Two days before the wedding.
“Oh for Christ’s sake, Juls. You need to decide on a cake flavor now or you’re not getting a fucking cake.” Good Lord. I get that the girl only cares about her sweet husband to be but shit. I’m in charge of providing something decadent and she’s only given me the type of flowers she wants on it. Juls just laughs at me as she flips through my design book in my kitchen bakery.
It’s been close to three months since I ended things with Reese. After he came home and found my note, my phone didn’t stop ringing for a week straight. I ignored all of his calls and texts, and I also ignored everything Juls would try to tell him about him. I didn’t want to know how upset he was or how bad he wanted to talk to me about things. I moved back into my loft after only spending a few days at Billy and Joey’s condo. They were very sweet to me and overly hands on with my healing process, but I knew that if I was going to move the fuck on, I needed to do it in my own place. The texts and calls from Reese stopped after a month and a part of me wished that I hadn’t deleted every text without reading it or every voicemail without listening to it. I missed his voice and I hated myself for it. I missed his words even more and that made me want to punch someone. But he got the hint and I haven’t seen my phone light up with his name in exactly fifty-four days. Juls got the hint also and stopped bringing him up, but I think that was mainly because her wedding was quickly approaching and she had a lot of shit to take care of. And Ian knew better than to talk about him around me. He’s been a witness to some of my verbal attacks on men.
I’ve seen her and Ian a lot in the past two months, helping them plan the wedding that my best friend basically put into her husband to be’s hands. He’s been amazing, like really amazing at handling everything except for the God damned cake selection. That he decided to leave up to Juls and I’m about to hit her upside her pretty little head with my design book if she doesn’t pick something out already. The fact that I have her cake to make isn’t the only thing stressing me out. Tomorrow night is the rehearsal dinner and I will be stuck in the same room with the man that broke me eighty-three days ago. I’ve been reassured that we won’t be sitting anywhere near each other but that doesn’t help much. I still have to rehearse the ceremony with him which means I’ll be standing directly across from him up on that stupid altar and my arm will be looped through his when we walk down the aisle. God I hate weddings.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” Juls says after thirty minutes of me tapping my fingers on my worktop at her. “I want a three-tiered almond lemon cake with lemon filling and a cream cheese frosting. There, that wasn’t so hard now was it?” Oh she’s gone mad. She slams the book shut and pushes it towards me, her glowing bride to be smile chipping away at my remaining patience. “Now, onto more pressing matters, the bachelorette party. I want to go dancing.”
I roll my eyes and laugh as I write down her wedding cake selection. About damned time too. “Sounds good to me. As long as the booze is flowing I’m all in. I plan on staying highly intoxicated for the next two days anyways.” I begin pulling the ingredients I need off the shelves to start her cake.
“Well you better not be drunk at the wedding. You are in charge of making sure everything runs smoothly and how the hell are you going to do that if your head is stuck in a toilet?”
“Oh relax, of course I won’t be plastered at the wedding. Just tipsy enough to tolerate the situation.” I pull out my mixer and set it aside. “Where do you want to go tonight anyways? I’m going to have to meet you there since I have a shit load of baking to do.” I glare at her at the end of my sentence and she gives me her goofy grin.
“I was thinking Clancy’s since we haven’t been there in forever. Oh shit. Remember the last time you, me, and Joey went there? Didn’t he end up hooking up with three different guys in one night?”
“Of course, in true Joey fashion. That definitely won’t be happening tonight considering he’s practically engaged as it is.” My face drops at the fact that I’m the only single friend in our circle and I shake my head at myself. No sulking. You don’t need a man. Men are dickheads.
“Dylan.” She reaches over and grabs my hand that’s on my mixer, pulling me close to her and gripping both of my shoulders. I brace myself for what’s coming. “I know the next two days are going to be hard for you, but you’re the strongest woman I know and have bigger balls than any man I know.” I let out a weak laugh. “If anyone can get through this, it’s you.” She pulls me in for a hug and I let her. At least she didn’t mention he who shall not be named. “He’s just as miserable as you are.” Damn it. So close.
“Juls, don’t.”
“Well at least he was. I haven’t heard anything for a while. Apparently he’s slammed at work.”
“I don’t give a shit!” I push away from her and begin ripping open my bags of flour. “He’s miserable? Doubt it. I’m sure he’s sticking his dick into every whore in the South Side zip code as we speak.” My voice breaks at the end and I struggle to hold back my tears, but they’ve been on reserve lately and are never far away. Her arms wrap around my back and she sighs heavily.
“I’m sorry, sweets. I’m gonna head out but will see you tonight at Clancy’s right?” I nod and sniff loudly as she plants a quick kiss on my back before she exits the shop.
I take a minute to dry my tears before I start mixing up the ingredients for the almond lemon cake. God I couldn’t wait to start drinking tonight. If I don’t show up hung-over to the rehearsal tomorrow, it will surely be a wedding miracle.
**
Clancy’s is packed but I manage to spot Joey, Juls, and Brooke propped up at a round table by the bar. I shimmy my way through the crowd and receive very alcohol induced greetings from all three of them.
“Dylan. Fuck yes! I’m heading to the bar. What do you want?” Brooke asks as she stumbles off her stool. “I’m good, I’m good. Good,” she turns and says to whoever is watching her. Well, drunken Brooke didn’t take long to come out and play.
I try to stiffen my laugh. “Whatever you’re having sounds good.”
“No.” Joey and Juls say together quickly.
“Oh. Uh okay, glass of Pinot then?”
Brooke spins towards the bar as I eye up the other two. “Why don’t I want to drink what she’s having?”
“Because I’m pretty sure she’s drinking straight jet fuel,” Joey barks around his beer. “She’s completely out of control and I’m in charge of babysitting her for some stupid reason.” He narrows his eyes at Juls. “I’m letting it slide this one time since you’re getting married in two days.”
“Love you,” she replies as she blows him a kiss. “After you get your drink, Dyl, we’re hitting the dance floor.” I nod and glance down at her phone that is lighting up on the table.
“Hey, husband to be. Oh just drinking and dancing. What are you boys doing? If you say strip club I’m finding myself another groom while I’m here.” She takes a sip of her drink and smiles around her straw as Brooke returns miraculously without spilling anything.
“Here you go, Dylan. By the way, the bartender asked for your number.” I glance around her as Joey whips his head in the same direction. The big bald bartender sends a wink my way.
“Uh, no thanks.” I take a generous sip of my wine.
“Seriously, like he’d ever stand a chance with you. He’s more your type isn’t he, Brooke?”
“Fuck you, Joey. You’ve been on my ass all night. What’s your problem? Billy holding out on you?”
“Please. I get laid way more than you do. Tell me, has your virginity grown back yet?”
“Jesus Christ, Joey,” I bark and try not to crack up laughing at poor Brooke’s expense. She isn’t the only person at this table not getting laid. He merely shrugs his shoulders and glances towards the dance floor.
“So, Dylan, isn’t tomorrow going to be insanely awkward for you?” I glare directly at her and suddenly wish I wouldn’t have just come to her defense. Brooke Wicks and alcohol do not mix well. She talks a lot of shit and then ends up passing out or throwing up all over the place. Not a good look for anybody.
I brush my hair off my shoulders. “No, Brooke, I’m not expecting it to be awkward at all. In fact, I can’t fucking wait to have a reunion with ex-fling. It’s not like things ended badly between us or anything.” My voice is thick with sarcasm but given her current state, she probably won’t pick it up. How much has she had to drink?
“Christ, Brooke. Don’t be so fucking rude,” Joey says as Juls turns her back away from the table and continues her phone call. She’s in blissful bride mode and I don’t blame her for avoiding this conversation.
“What? I’m just saying, I would feel awkward if I had to play nice with my ex. You should just hook up with someone else in the wedding party.”
“Jesus Christ, like that’s the answer to all the world’s problems. Just hook up with someone in the wedding party. For your information, the only two other men in the wedding party are gay or married and even if they weren’t, no. I’m not hooking up with anyone at the rehearsal dinner and definitely not at the wedding. That’s how this whole fucked up situation got started in the first place.” I glance over at Joey who is staring at me, wide-mouthed and stunned. “You remember right, Joey? ‘Go ahead Dylan. You know you want to slip off into some dark corner and do something else in that lap of his.’ This is all your fault.”
His eyebrows raise and he leans across the table towards me. “My fault? How is this my fault? I didn’t push you into his lap. I didn’t make you run off to the bathroom with him and tell him to fuck you. And I sure as hell didn’t put a gun to your head to continue being his casual fuck buddy.” His finger darts across the table and points directly at me. “That was all you, cupcake.”
Juls spins around and glares at both of us, phone still up to her ear. “Jesus Christ, you two. Keep it down before we get thrown out of here.”
I reach over and grab his finger, bending it a bit as he screeches and pulls it away from me. “All me? Are you fucking serious? You were the one that said to be his sexy little mistress when we thought he was married. And you were the one that kept trying to convince me that it was more than just casual sex. ‘Oh Dylan, the man sends you love letters and he’s so romantic.’ Remember that bullshit?” I point right back at him and he jerks back in his stool. “Don’t you dare tell me you didn’t have a part in this. I had you yapping in my ear all day about how what we were doing meant more to both of us when clearly, it only meant more to me.” I slam my hand down on the table and grab my drink, downing it quickly. My sparing partner’s face softens and he shakes his head.
“Fuck, Dylan. You’re right.” He throws his hands up in the air dramatically. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I really hate fighting with you. You scare the shit out of me.” We both burst out laughing and I feel a pair of eyes on me as I turn quickly to Brooke who looks confused.
“You two are fucking weird. And I don’t care if the other two groomsmen are gay, married, or prefemale to male transformation; I’m getting laid by someone.”
“Bitch, you better stay the hell away from Billy,” Joey says sternly. Juls quickly spins around and all arguments come to a halt at the sight of her beaming face. We all regain our composure and she’s none the wiser.
“Okay, baby, I love you too. Have fun.” She hangs up her phone and hops off her stool. “Alright, bitches, I believe it’s time for me to show your sorry asses up on the dance floor.” She does a quick spin and her black dress fans out around her knees.
“Ha!” I yell playfully as I get down and run over to her, putting her hand in mine. A clumsy Brooke follows while Joey quickly downs his beer.
“Let’s do this!” he yells.
We danced all night into the early morning hours, finally leaving Clancy’s at 2:00a.m. and all piling into the same cab. None of us drove which was a good thing because we are all rightly smashed and in zero condition to do anything but go to bed. We’re giggling like idiots in the back seat of the cab, throwing out our addresses and confusing the hell out of the driver.
“Christ, already. Who am I taking home first? I can’t understand four directions at once,” the driver yells back as we all fall into a fit of tearful chuckles.
“Brooke, oh my fucking God. That guy you were dancing with looked like Mr. T.” I laugh and she searches her brain for the image. “He even had all the gold chains.”
“But he could move. Whew.”
“Yeah he could. I’m pretty sure he had better moves than me which says a whole fucking lot,” Joey adds as Juls wipes the tears under her eyes.
The driver spins around to face us. “Ladies. Oh, and gentleman, sorry. Where the hell am I going?”
“I’m closest. Dylan’s Sweet Tooth on Fayette please.” I fall back against Joey. “Oh man, this was so fun. Juls, seriously, thanks for this.”
She winks at me as we pull away from the club. “So fun. I love you three. AND I’M GETTING MARRIED TOMORROW!” We all laugh and cheer as we drive off down the road, the petty arguments of the night left behind along with Brooke’s vomit that came shortly after we started out onto the dance floor. I called it though. The girl should really not be around hard liquor.
I’m dropped off a mere fifteen minutes later and say my quick goodbyes before I stumble inside and lock up behind me. After peeling out of my dress and removing my makeup, I open my dresser drawer and spot the University of Chicago T-shirt that I had stuffed into my duffle bag when I was packing up my stuff the day I ended things with Reese. I should have sent it back to him through Ian when I realized that I took it, but a part of me, a part of me that nobody knows about, likes wearing it to bed some nights when I want to smell him. I don’t wear it often for fear that my scent will overpower his. But I do decide on wearing it tonight. I slip it on and climb into bed, grabbing my phone and opening up my internet search.
While on the dance floor tonight, the Arctic Monkeys song pumped through the speakers and I let myself dance to it, not wanting to give away how badly it killed me to hear it. And as I moved my body to it, I remembered that I never looked up the lyrics and it’s been on my mind the entire evening. So now in the privacy of my dark bedroom, I’m finally looking up the lyrics to the song that reminded him of me.
“OhGod.” I read the lyrics again, and again, letting them sink into me and cursing myself for even looking them up in the first place and for the stupid club for playing this stupid song. “Fuck.” I shut down my phone and roll over, burying my head into the pillow to soften the cries that are coming from me now. Jesus, that song? Really? It’s a song about wanting to be with someone so badly, thinking about them all the time, wanting more with them. Dreaming about them. That song? How could that song remind me of him? I bury my face into his T-shirt and cry harder, trying to push the lyrics out of my head to give myself some relief. I inhale his scent, the scent that is slowly fading and I finally calm myself down enough to fall asleep. And sleep I am definitely going to need if I’m going to survive the next forty-eight hours.
