Chapter 2
Ricky
My smile twitches as Marilyn walks toward the front of the church, the eyes of many Riverbend residents shifting between her and those of us already at the altar. No doubt, many of the people sitting in the pews are thinking what I thought the day my little sister informed me she was dating my best friend. While my first reaction was disbelief, which morphed into shock and anger, I slowly realized what Devan obviously knew. Justin Sheers is a good guy. As he’s my best friend since childhood, I couldn’t come up with a better person for my sister to share the rest of her life with.
It is funny how the significance represented by the numbers associated with our ages diminishes as we grow older. The gaps shrink as the years multiply.
Five years ago, when Devan graduated from high school, she and her friends seemed so much younger. I suppose that makes me an asshole for hooking up with Marilyn during that graduation party. We couldn’t blame alcohol. It was something more basic, something that has existed since the beginning of time—desire, continuing from generation to generation and populating the earth.
After Marilyn and I did what we did, I was an ass. It hadn’t occurred to me that I was Marilyn’s first. The moment I realized that I was, I froze. Sure, she was beautiful and legal, but taking her virginity was more responsibility than I was prepared to accept. We agreed to keep what happened our secret—no strings attached.
I wasn’t ready for the hostile aftermath. I suppose I should have been. What can I say? I’m a guy, and admitting feelings for my little sister’s best friend was a hard no. Hurting her was never my intention. Due to our connection—Devan—avoiding each other was impossible. Over the years, we settled into an adversarial relationship. She never missed an opportunity to snap some smartass response whenever we were together. The thing is, I’ve grown not only to expect her zingers, but to look forward to them.
Last night at the rehearsal, I played along with her complaints about being paired with me. After all, I’m the best man and she’s the maid of honor. The coupling should have been assumed before we listened to the minister’s instructions.
For the sake of Justin and Devan, we agreed to play nice.
As she glides up the aisle, I can’t help but scan from her dark hair, pulled up in a twist with glittery accessories, to her pleasing face and the way her pouty lips purse when she glances my way. My focus continues down her slender neck and to the way the clinginess of her long dress showcases her curves—curves that have grown over the last five years.
My circulation warms thinking about her aversion to me. For this one evening, she has no choice but to accept her role and mine. I nod slightly with a grin as she takes one last look in my direction and scrunches her adorable nose. If the congregation wasn’t oohing and aahing over the flower girl, Justin’s niece, I could laugh out loud.
The guests stand as the music changes.
Dad and Devin appear at the end of the aisle.
The happiness on my sister’s face tells me what I knew as soon as I quit sulking over my best friend finding what I haven’t—love. Devan glows as she holds on to Dad’s arm and comes forward in her long white bridal gown.
The wedding occurs in a blur as I bear witness to the marriage of my sister to my best friend. Before I know it, the minister declares them husband and wife. The church erupts in applause as they kiss. My smile returns as the bride and groom walk down the aisle, I bend my right arm, and grin down at my partner for the night.
Marilyn’s smile is forced as she places her hand on my arm, and she tips her chin higher.
“Maybe we should kiss, you know, see if they applaud again?” I whisper low into her ear.
Her face snaps toward mine. “Please don’t make me sick. I’ve already had too much champagne.”
My laugh comes from deep in my throat as we walk toward the back of the church. As soon as we cross the threshold, Marilyn lets go of my arm and hurries to Devan, wrapping her friend in a hug. My hand goes out to Justin. “It’s official, asshole. You better treat my sister right.”
His shoulders broaden and his neck straightens. “You know I will.”
“I know.” I pat his shoulder. “I’m still uncomfortable with it, but I know.”
Our talk is cut short as Jill and Dax arrive—the last couple from the wedding party. They’re followed by my parents and Justin’s. Soon, we fall into line, Devan on my left and Marilyn on my right. One by one, the guests walk by. All the women hug my sister, and the men shake Justin’s hand. The rest of us are met with the obligatory comments: beautiful wedding, you look nice, you clean up well. To hear the people of Riverbend, they aren’t used to seeing me as anything other than Jack Dunn’s son, a farmer.
That is changing.
I’m also not living in Riverbend any longer.
Since Mom and Dad sold our land to the Sheers, farming is no longer my livelihood; it’s my hobby. I’m a semester into my bachelor’s studies at Indiana University in Bloomington, majoring in economics and finance. With my associate’s degree as a starting point, I’m over a decade older than many of my classmates, but I don’t care. In two more years, I’ll have my degree. Now that I’m knee-deep in classes, reading, and homework, I know this is the path I’ve always wanted.
As the guests make their way to the reception, the wedding party is herded back into the chapel for photographs. The photographer barks out orders, telling us where to stand.
“Ladies, place your hand on the shoulder of your partner. Devan and Justin, you’re in the middle.”
Craning my neck, I smirk toward Marilyn. “You can touch me. I won’t bite.”
“Don’t get too comfortable,” she says without a grin. “I may.”
“Oh, interesting. I could be persuaded.”
“Shut up and look at the camera.”
Nearly an hour later, we pile into the back of a long limousine. Marilyn quickly sits at Devan’s side and pulls Jill into her other side, leaving me sitting between Justin and Dax. Molly sits next to her dad.
The MC at the reception announces Molly first. Dax and Jill are the next to enter, hand in hand, Jill holding her bouquet high. I offer my hand to Marilyn, who looks away, pastes a smile on her lips, and walks at my side. The room cheers. The accolades grow louder as Devan and Justin enter to a chant of “Kiss, kiss.”
“Too bad they didn’t yell that for us,” I say to Marilyn.
“That’s not happening.”
I’m not sure what makes me continue to tease—maybe it isn’t teasing. I see her pouty lips and feel the fire beneath her soft skin. Marilyn has grown up since our one time together, and there is part of me that wants to investigate the woman she’s become. It’s the part of me that reacts to her smart comebacks. It’s the part of me that literally screwed up five years ago.
Telling my body to forget this fiery brunette with the mesmerizing blue eyes is like telling my lips I no longer like ice cream.
That’s it. I’m on a lactose-free diet.
Before the dinner, I stand and give my speech. The guests laugh as I give Justin the hundredth warning to take care of my little sister. Marilyn’s speech is next, recounting Devan’s and her friendship over the years. When she mentions their young childhood, I can’t for the life of me remember Devan, Jill, or especially Marilyn as children.
Hell no.
When I wasn’t looking and when I was, the three of them grew up.
My sister is no longer a kid. And without a doubt, Marilyn is definitely a woman.
Later that night, during the wedding party dance, I take Marilyn’s hand and place my other one on her hip. The material of her dress is soft and shiny beneath my touch. “I’m living in Bloomington now.”
Marilyn’s blue eyes come in my direction and narrow, yet she doesn’t respond.
“You’re there, right?” I ask.
“I was. I’m doing my internship in Indianapolis.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Internship, with who?”
“Parker and Stevens.”
“No shit?” I say, genuinely impressed. “They’re one of the top wealth management firms in the country.”
Marilyn’s shoulders straighten. “You’ve heard of them?”
“As part of an assignment, I did research on different financial institutions in the state and beyond. Parker and Stevens was ranked highest for assets under management, individual client count, and clients per adviser.”
Her cheeks rise as she grins. “They’ve also been in business for over seventy-five years.”
“Maybe one day you can put in a good word for me.”
Marilyn tilts her head. “Why would I do that?”
“Because you like me.”
“Oh, is this more of the act we’re doing for Devan and Justin?”
It is my turn to smile. “No, it’s because we’re both adults, and we can look beyond the past into the future.”
She shakes her head. “If you want a good word before the clock strikes midnight, I might be able to help you out. After that, I’d say, remember me? I’m one of the no-strings girls from your past. If you wanted strings, you wouldn’t have treated me the way you did.”
One of…no, she isn’t one of a long list.
Marilyn is the one I regret, not because she isn’t everything I would want. Because she is the one I shouldn’t want—the too-young friend of my little sister. Marilyn is the one I never should have touched and definitely never should have taken from what I did.
I notice the music has changed and others are joining us on the dance floor as Marilyn begins to back away,
I hold tight to her hand, stopping her escape. “Maybe it’s not too late for strings.”
Before I can make a convincing argument, she flashes her biggest and most insincere smile. “It’s too late, Ricky. It was too late the morning you walked into your house and ignored me.” She pulls her hand away and disappears into the sea of dancers.