Chapter 277: Best Man or Babysitter?

By the time I left St. Jude University, I spent most of my day listening to people explaining their confusion.

Apparently, that’s what being a lecturer is all about.

You stand in front of a room full of young adults, explain something three ways, answer a million questions, and then watch someone raise their hand at the end to ask if the assignment is due on the date boldly printed at the top of the course page.

I was starting to get why professors relied so much on coffee for survival more than water itself.

As I drove to Joey’s, I had the windows cracked, letting the warm afternoon air in while some random song played softly on the radio.

Traffic wasn’t too bad, which I figured was the universe’s way of giving me a false sense of security before I faced whatever disaster Joey had cooked up.

He’d called me that morning sounding like he’d just received some terrible news or being kidnapped.

The news, as far as I could gather, involved marriage. But I still hadn’t gotten the full story.

I pulled into his driveway just before six, sat in the car for a moment, and stared at his house.

Joey had moved in with Natasha almost two years ago, and every time I saw their place, I was reminded that my best friend had somehow become a responsible adult while I felt stuck somewhere between having a job and eating cereal for dinner because of how lazy as hell I was.

The house wasn’t huge, but it was cozy and definitely felt like theirs.

There were flowerpots on the front steps, a little wooden bench by the entrance, and an utterly ridiculous welcome mat Natasha must have bought because it said, Home is where the snacks are.

Joey had once complained that it lacked romance. Natasha had probably told him off for that.

I knocked once. No answer. I knocked again. Still nothing, then I heard shouting from inside.

"WHAT IF I FORGET THE VOWS?!"

I shut my eyes, there it was again. I opened the door because after knowing Joey for so long, I accepted that knocking was more of a suggestion.

"Joey? I’m coming in."

"I CAN’T GET MARRIED!"

I stepped into the living room. Joey was right in the middle, dressed in dress pants, one sock, a white undershirt, and suspenders that weren’t even fastened properly.

His hair was a mess, sticking up everywhere, and he held a crumpled piece of paper that was probably his wedding vows.

He looked like a man who had just lost a battle with a tuxedo.

I stared at him, and he stared back. "I need help."

I snorted, "Yeah I can see that, man."

"I’m serious, Oliver!"

"So am I."

He started pacing, his socked foot making soft slaps against the hardwood floor. "What if I mess up tomorrow?"

"You probably will."

He stopped. "What?"

"I mean, not necessarily."

"That sounded very confident."

"I was just being honest." I said with a shrug.

"You’re supposed to support me!"

"I am supporting you. Emotionally. Not necessarily when it comes to memorizing words."

He groaned and dragged his hands down his face. "What if I forget my vows?"

"Then read them."

"What if I drop them?"

"Pick them up."

"What if my hands shake?"

"Hold the paper with both hands."

"What if my voice cracks?"

"People will think you’re emotional."

"What if I cry?"

"People will definitely think you’re emotional."

"What if I cry so hard I can’t speak?!"

"Then Natasha will probably kiss you until you calm down."

He stared at me, and I shrugged. "She’s your fiancée. I’m sure she has her methods."

"That’s not helping! Oh my God! I haven’t even started." He continued pacing, the vows crinkling even more in his grasp. "What if my vows aren’t romantic enough?"

"How romantic are they?"

He shoved the crumpled paper at me. I unfolded it and read the first few lines, then looked up. "These are actually good."

"Really?"

"Yeah." His shoulders relaxed a little. I continued reading, then reached a bit that made me pause. "Though I’m not sure about this part."

"What part?"

I pointed. "I promise to love you even when you steal all my hoodies and pretend you don’t."

"That’s a fact."

"It’s also a bit of an accusation."

"She does steal them!"

"Joey, you’re getting married tomorrow. Maybe starting with evidence against your future wife isn’t the best strategy."

He snatched the paper back like it was a precious artifact. "You’re not taking this seriously."

"I am taking it seriously! I’m just also aware that you’re only wearing one sock."

He glanced down, looking genuinely baffled by his sock situation, as if his bare foot had betrayed him.

Then he sighed. "Shit."

I walked over and gave his face a light smack. Not hard, just enough to get his attention. "Snap out of it, dude."

Joey’s eyes widened. "You just hit me."

"Yes."

"Domestic abuse!"

"You’re being ridiculous."

"I’m calling someone."

"Call Natasha. I can’t wait for her to hear you’re accusing your best man of assault instead of getting dressed for your wedding fittings."

He pointed at me. "You’re supposed to be nice to me, you’re my best man for fuck’s sake."

"I am being nice. If I weren’t, I’d let you keep spiraling." That shut him up.

He dropped down onto the couch, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

For the first time since I came in, he looked genuinely scared rather than just theatrically terrified. "I love her, man."

His voice was suddenly quiet. I sat next to him. "Yeah I know."

He glanced my way. "I really love her." He stared down at his hands. "What if I mess everything up?"

I nudged his knee with mine. "You won’t."

"How can you be sure?"

"Because you’re a fucking goof, but you’re not a clueless one."

He chuckled softly. "Awwn that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me in years."

"Yeah, don’t get used to it." I said.

He smiled. I leaned back against the couch. "You love Natasha. She loves you. You’ve been together for years and survived living together, which honestly is a bigger test than marriage."

"True."

"You’ve fought over money, dishes, whose turn it was to cook, even whether you could buy a third TV."

"That TV was necessary."

"You don’t need a TV in the bathroom, Joey."

"What if I want to watch something while I brush my teeth?"

I looked at him. "See? This is exactly why Natasha deserves a medal. Putting up with your dumb ass."

He laughed again, and the tension finally started to leave his shoulders.

"You’ll be fine," I said. "Tomorrow, just stand there, look at her, and say what you mean. You don’t need perfect words or some dramatic speech. Just tell her you love her."

Joey stared at the paper. "And if I forget everything?"

"Just look at her."

He met my gaze. "That’s it?"

"That’s it." I smiled. "You’re marrying the person you love, not giving a presentation to the UN."

He chuckled. "You’re right."

"I usually am."

"Don’t ruin the moment."

"Sorry."

Then, out of nowhere, he pulled me into a hug. I barely had time to react before his arms were around me.

"You’re a real one, dude."

I laughed into his shoulder. "Get off me!"