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 me 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 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 wishes I hadn’t deleted every text without reading it or every voicemail without listening to it. I miss his voice, and I hate myself for it. I miss his words even more, and that makes 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 is mainly because her wedding is quickly approaching and she’s had a lot of shit to take care of. And Ian knows 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 goddamned 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 who 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.
“All right, 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 toward 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 anyway? 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. 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 can’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 muffle my laugh. “Whatever you’re having sounds good.”
“No,” Joey and Juls say together quickly.
“Oh. Uh, okay, glass of Pinot then?”