Chapter 32
“Fucking hell,” I hear Jasper mutter under his breath.
I think he was caught so completely off guard he has no idea what to do now, so he just stands there, frozen, not even looking away from me. Trying, I’m sure, to keep his distance.
And if time seems to have stopped for everyone at the party, there’s a moment where it feels like it’s stopped for me too, because I remain perfectly still long enough for one of the waiters to reach us with a tray of Champagne.
I guess he can tell how desperately we need alcohol.
I take a glass immediately, but Jasper ignores him completely and heads straight to some oil magnate’s table, where a waiter is serving the expensive single malt. His steps are way too unsteady for someone usually so controlled.
He snatches the glass from the waiter’s hand before he’s even finished pouring and downs it as he walks. Straight past the guests, past the cheese and charcuterie table, disappearing through one of the flower arches and leaving me alone to face the carnage.
I lift my chin and meet every shocked stare pointed my way.
Gus and Lianne Carnegie.
Sara Gusman and her pet Chihuahua.
The bridesmaids and groomsmen. Which includes Connor. And Suzi.
Then Mila.
I can’t even explain the expression on Mila’s face right now.
So I raise my glass. Then lift it in the air, like an invisible toast, before drinking.
I take a sip that’s too big for a toast and too small to numb me. There isn’t enough Champagne in the world to numb me after today.
All the alcohol does is blend with the bitter taste of humiliation, which has already been mixing with the bitter taste of disappointment for a while now.
Uncle Henry clears his throat and, to my surprise, he’s the one who steps in to rescue me, “Now, putting the lovers’ quarrel aside and getting back to what matters… Did I ever tell you about the day I met Robbie?”
He goes back to his speech and slowly the guests’ attention finally begins to drift, in the most painfully awkward way imaginable, as people check their phones, sip their wine, and stare at the appetizers on their plates as if nothing had happened.
And what else can I do now?
I walk straight past them, my glass nearly empty – thank God another waiter catches me midway and hands me a refill – and sit down exactly in front of the little name card that reads: Julie Sawyer. My shrimp tacos untouched, getting cold next to the ceviche.
I grab a tiny piece of toast and just start eating.
No one.
And I mean no one, not even Connor, who is literally eight inches away, has the courage to say a word.
That’s how royally screwed we are.
The silence lasts until the end of Uncle Henry’s speech, which took way longer than scheduled, and he gets replaced onstage by Robbie’s mother.
Mila spent a good five minutes looking at me with the saddest puppy-dog eyes, until she finally gave up and accepted that she couldn’t get up to talk to me right now.
She’s the bride, after all. Every speech, every toast is supposed to be about her. You can’t just walk away to ask your best friend what the hell she was thinking when she decided to sleep with Jasper Hassmann.
Not when we’re all desperately pretending the incident wasn’t broadcast through the entire venue’s speakers.
So all I did was smile at her, mouth that everything was fine, and then add one more silent word: Later.
After Lianne’s speech and another round of delicious food delivered to our plates.
After a series of toasts popping up from all the tables around us.
After my speech.
And after the best man’s speech.
Which – great! – is up next.
Jasper came back to his seat about ten minutes after the disaster. Quiet, serious. Sitting next to Suzi and directly across from me and Connor, but it doesn’t matter, because no one has the guts to talk to him either.
I don’t even know if that’s good or bad.
It feels like everyone’s just waiting for the formalities to end so they can tear us apart limb by limb.
And now we’re at the second-to-last course of the night: grilled sea bass in banana leaf with creamy pepper risotto. Jasper has the schedule. He knows what comes after this. So he gets up, still holding his whiskey, and walks – stumbles – toward the stage.
I immediately feel like I’m going to throw up.
With all the intelligence I didn’t have, he clips the microphone onto his jacket lapel with Catrina’s help, and then they press the button. Blue is recording, red is off, for fuck’s sake.
“Good evening, everyone,” he begins, his voice stiff like he’s announcing a funeral.
Silence drops instantly.
Of course. Everyone wants to know what he’s going to say now.
Jasper inhales deeply, his fingers gripping the glass so hard the skin around his knuckles turns white.
“For those who don’t know me, thank God, my name is Jasper, and I am the best man.” A few laughs ripple through the crowd. He gives a half-smile, but he’s nowhere near relaxed. Jasper always looked relaxed. “For those who heard me being a complete asshole a few moments ago, my sincerest apologies.”
My heart squeezes painfully. I know public speaking is second nature to him, and yet his voice comes out accompanied by a nervous laugh.
I don’t even want to imagine what it’ll be like when it’s my turn to speak.
“As best man and Robbie’s best friend, I should be making some poetic, inspirational speech about love and all that, but… what the hell do I know about that? Nothing.”
He pauses. His eyes drop to his glass, then circle the whole place before landing on mine. His expression is almost… almost like he’s fighting his own body, like one of the two doesn’t want to admit something but is going to say it anyway.
“Ten years ago, in a filthy, loud bar, I met the most beautiful woman I had ever seen,” he says, voice heavy with regret, and my heart sinks.
I feel every set of eyes turn toward me. Jesus Christ! My insurance does not cover this level of emotional trauma. I’m going to drop dead. Drop dead in a ditch of heartbreak.
“To make it worse, she was also smart and fearless and furious, and the first thing I told myself was: Jasper, don’t do this. You can’t risk falling in love. Love is messy and chaotic and terrifying, and you cannot handle any of that right now. So I screwed everything up.”
He keeps looking at me. Serious, which he can be very easily, but also sad. He’s never sad. He always seemed like a heartless jerk and that’s it.
“I screwed it up because I was afraid of what could happen if I took the risk. But Robbie wasn’t,” he says, and suddenly it’s like he snaps out of a trance and comes back to himself.
Charming, composed, focused on what matters: the groom. The wedding. Nothing else.
“Robbie wasn’t afraid. There wasn’t a single cell of fear in that man’s body that night, while he watched a drunk blonde throw up on her own shoes and told me, I’m gonna marry this woman!”
The crowd bursts out laughing.
I laugh too, a soft, bittersweet laugh, remembering that night. The good and the bad.
“Sure, he did end up getting a lap dance at the strip club we went to after bailing Tony out of jail, but those were the last boobs Robbie ever saw that didn’t belong to Mila.”
More laughter erupts, accompanied by Mila’s disapproving glare and Robbie’s embarrassed chuckle, which, of course, is the perfect combo for a best man speech.
Jasper raises his glass in a toast to his friend, and honestly, I can’t complain. He and Robbie have been inseparable since college the same way Mila and I have been. I can hate him all I want, it won’t change how adorable their friendship is.
“And I get it, Robbie, look at her. She’s stunning, thoughtful, and so tough I’m convinced you only chose me as best man because you were afraid I’d take her side and destroy you in case of a divorce.
But hey, if you ever screw her over, you’ll deserve every horrible thing that comes your way, man. ”
Mila claps approvingly, and Robbie just rolls his eyes.
“But you’re not going to, right?” Jasper continues, looking at Robbie like they’re the only two people in the room.
“You’d never hurt anyone because you’re the best friend, best son, best boyfriend, and now the best husband.
Robbie, I wish I were as brave and loyal and smart and kind – not as handsome, because, look at me…
” More laughter. Even I laugh, as sad and pissed off as I am.
“…but everything else, I wish I were like you.”
He lifts his whiskey, encouraging everyone to join.
“I hope you have all the happiness in the world, and I’ll always have your back. Now, if anyone asks whether I ever said this kind of sentimental crap, I’ll deny it till I die. I Love you, man.”
Everyone toasts. And I sink in my seat thinking about how unfortunate it is that my speech is right after his.
I always considered myself good with words, great with conversations, great with interviews, great with a mic, but I'm not some filthy rich Stanford lawyer or anything even close.
Jasper steps down and hugs the couple. Greets Mr. and Mrs. Carnegie. Kisses Mrs. Bassett on the cheek. Then the mariachi band starts playing again and the waiters begin pouring the red wine for the final dish of the evening.
Thirty minutes later, it’s my turn to go up. Hands shaking. Heart pounding.
And I absolutely hate this lapel mic. Holding a microphone gives me a familiar sense of control. The illusion that I know what I’m doing.
This? It’s gotten me completely off my game.
I clear my throat and nearly choke in front of everyone. The spotlight hits me, hot and blinding, and I just take a deep breath.
There’s no backing out now.
Let’s do this.
“Well, thanks a lot, Jasper, for choosing this exact speech to finally do something right. Now I have to kill myself trying to get anywhere close. No pressure.”
A nervous laugh escapes me as I face everyone – silent, attentive. I know Mila and Robbie should be the stars of the night, but after everything that happened, it’s painfully obvious Jasper and I are top two.
So, trying to break the ice and shift the focus back to the couple, I start with, “About the elephant in the courtyard, let’s just get that out of the way: yes, I did sleep with the best man! And yes, things did get a little emotional after a while…”
My voice fades slightly, because there’s a lot I want to say but absolutely can’t. All I can do is pretend to be calm and make jokes.
“But honestly, can you really blame me?”
I gesture around us, showing off the whole scene. Strings of yellow lights, massive tropical leaves mixed with white tulips in the arrangements, the ocean breeze drifting in…
“Look at this place!” I say, then point at Mila.
“Look at all the care and dedication this woman put into every detail to make today perfect. Look at this cinematic Caribbean paradise! Look at this gorgeous, glowing bride! Of course I, as the maid of honor, was going to end up feeling lonely and drunk, very drunk, and doing something stupid at some point. So please, be understanding.”
A few guests let out shocked little laughs; others glance at Mila, nodding vigorously.
“Be like Mila, the most thoughtful person I know. She’s so thoughtful she’s probably worried about me right now after everything that happened.
But make no mistake, Camila, this is one of the happiest days I’ve ever had.
I’m watching you marry the love of your life, and you have no idea how long I’ve waited to see it happen. ”
I pause. Laugh softly. Shrug. Admit, “Well… not that long. Ten years ago I never would’ve imagined this was how things were going to turn out!
” More laughter. I keep going. “Mila was in her frat-boy gym-bro era back then, but I guess she was smarter than we all thought, because the man she chose to spend the rest of her life with couldn’t run a mile without throwing up and didn’t mind singing Ricky Martin at a karaoke bar on the first date with his nerdy friends, but turned out to be the sweetest, most kind man I’ve ever met. ”
I give Robbie a goofy smile, then keep talking about how amazing he is, how amazing they are, and how I hope one day I find something like what they have, because that kind of unconditional, effortless partnership is exactly what everyone should want in life.
It’s the speech I planned for days, maybe weeks. I know exactly where every comma and period goes.
But this time, saying it out loud feels different.
The words come with a bitter twinge in my chest.
Not because I don’t believe what I’m saying. Not because I changed my mind. But because, at some point this week, I honestly thought it might be possible for me too.
To have something like that. Something extraordinary.
But then Jasper and I went and ruined everything.