Brad regarded me with bloodshot eyes. "Well, just look at Positive Suzy over here. Everything is just flowers and rainbows for you, isn't it?"
I fingered my cold glass of Sprite, wishing it was something stronger. "You called me here to give you support. I'm giving it, but if you want, I can tell you how stupid you are and how your life is over instead."
Brad shook his head. "Nah, nah. You're right. I should stop being such a little bitch. It's just that . . .” He groaned. "Katie won’t stop talking about babies! I mean, what's wrong with her? I’m just getting going with my career, and she literally wants to conceive on our honeymoon.” Brad signaled the waitress to bring him another glass and promptly turned it up as soon as it arrived. "Fuck, man."
Babies. Just even thinking about the concept felt alien to me. I'd never really given much thought to the idea, never really wanted a kid except for maybe when my youth was gone and I was too old to do all the things I loved to do.
For some reason, the thought of babies brought Victoria to my mind. Her pretty smile. Her stubborn personality. I could totally see us having . . .
In panic, I pushed the troublesome thoughts away. I must be getting old, I thought.
"You need to put your foot down," I told him. "Now instead of later. Have a talk before the wedding. Come to an understanding."
"Ugh," Brad groaned. "I don't know."
I placed a hand on Brad's shoulder. "Look, a healthy relationship is based on equal partnership, not a dictatorship. A considerate and loving partner will listen to your wants and needs and take them into consideration when they come into conflict with their own. You should be able to tell Katie yours, and then you guys should be able to discuss things and find a happy medium. I mean, come on. If you guys can't see eye to eye now, how do you expect to remain married? Why get married in the first place?"
Look at me sounding like I'm some sort of therapist, I thought. For some reason, being without Victoria had made me become all preachy.
Brad stared at me for an entire minute before he spoke. I wondered if he could even comprehend what I was saying. “Who the fuck are you? I mean, you look like Tyler. At least I think you do. I’m pretty drunk, after all. But you know what?” he asked. “Whoever you are, you're right. I should have a talk with her, let her know who’s boss."
"There you go," I said. "Grow some balls."
Brad snorted. "I've always had balls. Katie's just had a grip on them for the longest time. A sharp, nail-filled grip."
I winced at the image his words summoned.
"But now she's talking about buying a house as soon as we’re back from the honeymoon—you know—a place to put said babies in," he moaned, looking like he was about to fall apart.
I tightened my grip on his shoulder. "Remember what I said," I reasoned. "Talk it out like two adults. Everything will be fine."
Or run now while you still can, I thought. Run far, far, away. Save your sanity.
I didn't bother saying what I was thinking. I knew that Brad was dead set on marrying her, despite all of his complaining. He loved Katie more than life itself.
"I hope so."
"Trust me, it will."
I'll be surprised if he even attempts to talk to her, I thought. And if he does, the conversation probably won’t last but a minute before he just caves into whatever she wants.
“Enough of me; have you heard anything from Victoria?" Brad asked.
A sharp pain stabbed through my chest. "We haven’t seen each other for a while now.”
"I'm sorry, man," Brad slurred. "She was a pretty girl.
Pretty wasn't the start of it.
"It's alright," I lied. "I've had worse happen to me."
Our conversation drifted to more mundane matters, Brad talking about his law firm and the raise he was looking forward to, while I talked about how much better Armex was doing now that I had my shit together.
"You're still on to be my best man, right?" Brad slurred as his head seemed to be bouncing around like a bobblehead.
To be honest, I really didn't want to go to the wedding. I was just getting over my depression, and a cheery celebration would only make it worse. I felt like it would remind me of what I lost . . .
"You are coming, right?" Brad persisted. "After you spent all that money on those high-fashioned outfits, it would be a shame if you didn't."
A jolt of lightning went through me.
Fashion! That's it!
"Fuck, Brad,” I said, clapping him hard on the back. “You’re a genius.”
Brad peered at me stupidly. “Tell me something I don’t know, will ya?”
I gulped down my entire glass of Sprite and grinned. “Never mind.”
“Shit. You’re acting more hammered than I am and you haven’t taken one sip.”
“Must be the those flowers you were talking about earlier.”
Brad groaned, grabbing at his temples. “Whatever, man. My fucking head hurts. I know I’m going to wake up to a disgusting hangover tomorrow.” He paused to stare at me. “You are coming to the wedding, though, right?”
Adopting an assuring smile, I draped an arm over Brad and signaled the waitress. Maybe I'd have a drink after all.
"I'll be there, buddy.”