“So, Cassidy…you in?” Julie asked.
Everyone looked at him. He grinned. “Hell, yes, I’m in.”
Emma watched as Cassidy and Mitchell man-hugged and wondered how she felt about this little development.
She, Grace, and Riley were all bridesmaids in the wedding. Actually, Grace was maid of honor, thanks to a rousing round of rock-paper-scissors. And Jake and Sam were groomsmen, thanks to the fast friendship that had formed among the men, as well as Mitchell’s otherwise limited friend group.
Emma had never thought much about the fact that Cassidy hadn’t been asked before now. She knew that Mitchell was perhaps closer with Jake and Sam thanks to the “coupley” things they did with Grace and Riley.
But she also knew that Cassidy and Mitchell were running buddies, had been to a couple Yankees games, and had the same sort of quiet alpha vibe going on.
It made sense that he’d ask Cassidy, albeit a bit late in the game.
But it also meant that she and Cassidy would be standing up at the altar.
Together.
Something they’d never done on their own wedding day.
Emma swallowed.
She could do this.
She could stand next to her best friend on her special day without remembering that day.
Couldn’t she?
By the time everyone sat down to dinner, Emma had more or less pushed the thought out of her mind. Right up until the conversation came back to Julie’s wedding.
“Cassidy, do you own a tux? Or do want me to set you up at the same place I made an appointment for Sam and Jake?” Julie asked.
“I still can’t believe I have to wear a penguin suit,” Sam muttered around a piece of chicken.
Riley chucked him under the chin. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Jake turned toward Grace. “What about me? Will you make it worth my while?”
“Don’t even pretend that you mind wearing a tux,” Grace said, topping off her wineglass.
“Bond,” Jake said in a low voice. “James Bond.”
Sam paused in his chewing. “Okay. Okay, I think you’re on to something. I might be able to get excited about the tux. I’m going to 007 the shit out of this.”
Julie rolled her eyes. “Cassidy?”
“I do own a tux, actually,” he said, wiping his mouth neatly with his napkin.
Sam and Jake gaped. “You own one? What the hell for?”
“Hey, I own one,” Mitchell said from the head of the table, sounding indignant.
Jake waved a hand at him. “You have season tickets to the opera. You probably own two.”
Mitchell shrugged, completely unashamed.
“I’ve had it for awhile,” Cassidy said. “I’ll need to make sure it still fits, but it did last year when I wore it to my cousin’s wedding, so I should be good.”
Grace shook her head. “You men don’t understand how easy you have it. You buy one good tux in your life, and it never goes out of style. Can you imagine if we wore a dress from…Cassidy, how old is your tux?”
Emma was sitting next to Cassidy, so she didn’t have to see his face, but she could tell from the slightly stiff way he cut a piece of his chicken and deliberately took a bite that he did not want to answer that question.
And there could be only one reason why he wouldn’t want to explain.
Emma wasn’t the only one to figure it out.
Riley groaned. “It’s your wedding tux, isn’t it?”
“Awwwwkward,” Jake said, in a fake dramatic voice before giving Cassidy a shit-eating grin.
“What was I supposed to do, burn it?” Cassidy asked.
“Actually, yes,” Riley said, jabbing her fork at him. “It would serve you right for ditching our girl on your wedding day.”
Emma froze. Hell, everyone froze. Emma and Cassidy might have made peace with their past. They might be able to participate in the same wedding. They could sit beside each other at a dinner party.
But they never talked about that day. Not with each other. Not with their friends.