Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

10. Mont

Chapter ten

Mont

“ M arriage is a time-honored institution. It’s a great agreement between two people, and it doesn’t always have to involve emotions. Oftentimes, it’s best when it doesn’t. Happiness can still be achieved with an acceptable amount of risk. There are more benefits than drawbacks all around when done correctly.”

Two minutes into dinner, and I already regret bringing Connor with me. He’s one of my best friends, but he’s from a different kind of family. My parents are exceptionally normal for rich people, while his parents were the triple D kind. Distant, dysfunctional, and desensitized. They treated Connor like he was more of an object—an heir to the family fortune—than a kid. He didn’t get sent to boarding school, but he was in private schools, and he hung out with other kids who weren’t getting what they needed at home. They formed a sort of pack. I’ve met his friends from high school, and they’re all kind of emotionally detached from the world. Another good D word. They’re good at running their own empires, and they have great business sense. But emotions? They don’t do emotions.

It’s different from how I don’t do them. I do emotions. Just not well. And that’s not even true. I’m honestly great at some of them.

I feel like they’re just a different brand of being lost when compared to me. They don’t believe in love in any sort of capacity. Marriage and children? Yes. They’re on board. Just not the way I would want to be.

My parents are still in love. They have their quirks, but they respect each other, and they’ve made a thirty-five-year marriage seem like it was easy when I know it wasn’t. Connor’s parents, on the other hand? They might be married, but I know neither his mom nor his dad has been faithful to the marriage. They care a lot about what their standing in society looks like, so on the surface, they’re the perfect kind of family, but underneath, it’s all rot and sadness.

I met Connor in my first year of college, and it didn’t take long for him to confess everything. Basically, on day one, over the first beer. He just looked at me, and with that strange frankness I’ve always admired, he told me about what a fucked up childhood he had and how his family was a hot mess on the underbelly.

Usually, he doesn’t get into it with strangers, but after our crab appetizers arrived, I admitted how Evilla and I met. She and Genevieve shared a few guilty looks about that, but then they started laughing, and I joined in. Any hard feelings I had about the switch-up have been lost. I needed to learn a few things, and laughing at myself was one of them. I’ve never been able to do that. Since I then had to admit the rest of what I did, I suppose it opened up a door for Connor to expound on his theories about relationships.

The real Genevieve sits next to the window and across from me, on the same side of the booth with Evilla. This was the only booth open, and the fact that it was the same one as last time seemed a little bit funny and odd to me, but what did I really know about these things? Well, just that Evilla and I shared a look about it when we got here. Connor and I had waited outside for the women to arrive, and we all went in together and sat down.

The real Genevieve is a tall, blonde bombshell. Now that they’re together, it’s easy to see that they look nothing alike, though they’re both lovely in different ways. Alright, if I’m honest, Genevieve is pretty, and anyone could see that, but Evilla is captivating.

Genevieve snorts, and she makes a face like she’s auditioning for a role in a movie exclusively about pulling funny faces. “Jesus, that’s quite a dismal attitude.”

Connor shakes his head. “I don’t think looking at marriage like a business agreement is wrong. The marriages that involve the careful planning and assessment of two different people’s characters to determine compatibility and workability, those are the ones that last.”

I’ve had a crab cheese stick paused halfway to my mouth for the past two minutes, so I take a bite, letting the juicy crab flavors roll over my tongue. I can’t believe Connor put this out there. I always thought he didn’t want to be anything like his parents.

“I think you’re crazy if you’re getting married with that kind of attitude,” Genevieve tosses back, but he keeps it light.

She and Evilla are both wearing green. Evilla’s dress is emerald with lime green flowers all over it, and if it’s not vintage, then I’m a coconut tree. Genevieve’s is probably designer and much more modern. It’s strapless and streamlined, and when I walked in, I noticed her designer bag and heels. Evilla’s heels, however, are funky and fun in contrast. They aren’t nearly so high, and they’re bright purple like she doesn’t give two flying figs on foxes about blending in. At work, she might dress in a more understated way, but I like this wild side of her.

Evilla’s smile matches her fun outfit. She’s not going to get too serious, either. She and Genevieve might not look all that similar, but I can see they have the same sassy spirit. “I think I’m too old-fashioned for that. I’d like some emotional investment to play into the mix, but I think that, on some level, being rational about things isn’t so bad as well. People should be compatible, even if they’re opposites. They don’t have to come from the same place or like the same things or be the same age to want something similar.”

Genevieve picks up from there, waving a crab stick with marinara sauce at Connor in mock disapproval. “I think it’s more important how people grow over the years and react to different circumstances that life throws at them. You both can be the most compatible people on earth when you get married, and you can think you want something. You can also think you can make it with or without emotion, but things change. People change.”

“Maybe marriage just isn’t for everyone, and it’s the way society pushes us into thinking we have to conform and do it; otherwise, there’s something wrong with us as basic-level human beings. That. That makes the whole thing go so wrong,” I volunteer. I should probably just eat the crab stick and stop pretending I know what I’m talking about.

Evilla is frowning, but she reaches for a nacho and dips it in the spicy crab and cheese sauce in the middle of the tray. “You’re probably right. Marriage is a lot of work, and it’s a lot of pressure from society, from family, from friends. It’s hard being the one inside it. A lot of marriages that end seemed perfectly happy to everyone else.”

“It’s probably better not to get married until you’re fifty,” Genevieve says before having a nice laugh. She doesn’t seem like someone who takes herself too seriously. She probably thought Evilla’s date from hell with me was hilarious. After she sympathized and extrapolated about how sorry she was for the whole thing.

I can laugh about it now.

But the light obsession that led to buying the company? That one’s a little bit harder to admit to.

I just couldn’t handle the thought of letting Evilla be out there in the universe and never seeing her again. Isn’t that exactly what I’m contemplating now if I leave the company in someone else’s capable hands? It’s surprising how it only takes a few weeks to go on quite a journey of self-discovery, though I haven’t yet. I’m giving myself too much credit. I’ve just realized I need to go down that path.

Should self-discovery be done alone? Or can one discover oneself by surrounding said self with other people? Or maybe just one particular person? Does that still count, or does it then become less about the discovery of self for self’s sake and more for the sake of losing oneself?

“You’ll be pushed into it sooner or later,” Connor says with more conviction than he should. Genevieve and Evilla share a discreet look, and I want to elbow Connor. We’re both wearing jeans, but he’s rocking a mint green polo, and I’m in a henley. We both probably look like assholes.

“No one is going to push anyone into marriage,” I try and say by way of apology.

Connor isn’t going to let me speak for him, and he’s sure as hell not going to let me apologize for him, either. “When you live in this income bracket, parents push for marriage. That’s what they do. They want a suitable suitor that ticks all their boxes. You learn to live with that, and you learn to be happy because you know it’s always coming. But you can always do what most people do, and even if you hate your life and your partner, you can always live for your children. Wait, I guess most people don’t do that. Most people just pretend their kids don’t exist until they have to get real about their own mortality, and then they get worried about where all their money and their empire is going to end up.”

“Ouch,” Genevieve hisses. “That’s bleak.”

“The fact that you don’t think so makes you either a total dreamer unwilling to face reality, or it makes you a spoiled little socialite who’s given everything by mommy and daddy.”

“Mmm, no. I’ve never been pushed into being anything other than who I am. Would they have liked me to be a doctor? Yes. But are they perfectly fine with me having a huge passion for nursing and loving my job even though I was initially going to be a surgeon? Yes. Do they want me to find someone and be happy on my own terms? Maybe I do get a gentle push from them every now and then, but we did talk about that, and they understand that even trying to set me up isn’t okay. My parents are different from yours. We have money, but my dad is first-generation rich.”

“Ahh.” Connor’s eyes track to Evilla. “That explains the friendship then. It was the one thing I couldn’t figure out. I get it now. Remnants from an old world.”

“Connor.” I scrub a hand over my face, wishing it could erase the embarrassment. “I wouldn’t have brought you if I knew you were going to be not-so-positive. This crab place is special. It’s not where we go to insult the way other people live their lives.” The instinct I have to beat him upside the head with a crab leg that hasn’t even arrived yet since that’s the main course is so strong that I’m barely able to repress it.

“Old world remnants isn’t an acceptable term for people?” Evilla is all her usual sass. I can’t believe she’s not mad since I’m more than offended on her behalf. I’ve never heard Connor say anything like that before. He doesn’t say things like that. I wish I could privately ask him what the hell is going on.

“We should just face it.” Connor isn’t at all deterred. “We’re only here right now, enjoying the fine crab accouterments of this place because the lady Genevieve’s parents and your parents, Mont, tried to match you both up in exactly the way I stated. They wanted you to have a lovely society marriage. They were ticking boxes, and it seemed like you’d both be a good fit. But then, panic ensued, and chaos happened, and you met Evilla through duplicitous means. It wasn’t real. You, Mont, were half darn well pissed and half intrigued, so you did the first rational thing you could think of doing. You tried to ruin her life. You wanted to make her pay. But you also couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing her again.

“This lovely flower, one that doesn’t grow in the gardens you’re accustomed to. It was like finding that flower in the wild, in a dream. You wanted so badly to pluck the flower and study it, to have it for yourself. The rebel in you said no to the society bullshit, and now you’re lost. You’re wandering around, completely out of touch. You’ve decided that nothing in your life will satisfy you other than becoming a man and manning up, manning down, and manning all over the world in a mad search to find your man self, all while what you really want is right here. You just can’t admit it because it’s not supposed to be real. You’re making a good game of it, but we all see right through you. You didn’t have the slightest interest in pudding. What you really wanted is that rare dream flower, but said flower couldn’t be bought. Not for all the money in the world. There.” Then, Connor sits back, looking rather pleased with himself. “I’ve saved you all a great deal of time and trouble. How hard was it to just put it out there? We were all thinking it.”

I can’t deal with this. I can’t look anywhere. I can feel the heat of three different sets of eyes on me, and I want to disappear into a mash of crab stews and legs, and oh my fucking god, this was the worst idea of any ideas I ever conceived. I mean the whole of it.

Having it all put out there like that, in the glaring light of day, makes me sound like a villain. And not the hot, shady kind everyone secretly or not-so-secretly pines for.

“Umm…” Genevieve is a rockstar. She hasn’t lost her composure in the least. “I say we eat more crab and talk less crabby nonsense, and then we should all go for a walk on the beach. Evilla and Mont can pair off because they obviously like each other, and you and I can have a long discussion about the finer points of subtlety, which can then branch off into a discussion of whose ass I have to kick because someone obviously hurt you, and that’s not okay. The start will be rocky, but we’ll figure out that we can be friends. You’ll find that I’m a great listener, I promise.”

“Alright, my adorable, brave snake charmer. I’ll take you up on that walk. But not the beach because it’s so unbelievably token and sappy. If you want to listen to my brand of poison, you’ll have to do it somewhere much more metropolitan.”

“Oh, good. I can hardly wait,” Genevieve responds.

“Why wait? We could go now. We wouldn’t even have to pretend to like crabs when, secretly, we detest them and all they stand for.”

Genevieve shoots Evilla a look that asks if she’ll be okay if she takes one for the team and leaves with my incredibly toxic friend right now just to spare everyone else another dumpster fire and a burning heap of humiliation. And then she gives Evilla a look within a look that seems to say she doesn’t feel like she’s taking one for the team at all. Does she secretly enjoy rude people?

“By all means, I’ll just bail on my bestie here to satisfy your timeline.”

Ha. Good for her. I like that sass runs in the friendship.

Evilla reaches over and sets her hand on top of Genevieve’s. A look passes between them, one that’s all secret best friend code that I can’t crack.

“Alright then.” Genevieve leans against Evilla, who slides out of the booth to let her out. “I guess we’re going now.” She picks through the tray of appetizers and takes a few crab sticks, a crab leg, a mysterious ball I haven’t tried, as well as a stuffed hot pepper with crab meat and cheese. “But you owe me a crab milkshake.”

“It’s a crab banana split,” Evilla corrects as she arranges herself back into the booth. Her face says you don’t have to do this since the guy is probably a sociopath.

But Genevieve’s face says, I’m doing this, and you’re going to be fine. I care about you, I want you to be happy, and things will work out for all of us, I promise. Also, she gives a nose wrinkle that seems to confirm she can handle herself, sociopath or not.

Connor isn’t a sociopath. Most of the time, he’s perfectly nice. Something must have happened. Something huge. He’s brutally honest, but generally, he cloaks it in a funny way that’s manageable. There’s nothing wrong with telling things the way you see it. The world needs more honesty and less fluff unless the fluff comes in the form of whipped cream. I have a secret weakness for real whipped cream with the perfect amount of powdered sugar added and the smallest splash of vanilla.

“Alright.” Genevieve’s hands are full, kind of like Evilla’s purse on our first date disaster. I can see that Evilla notices, and she’s trying not to laugh. I don’t know how she can even smile right now. “Come on, future lover, let’s go angry talk and see where it leads.”

Evilla’s hands shoot to her mouth, and I watch her shake as Connor exits the booth, but I can see that it’s silent laughter. She doesn’t stop until Genevieve and Connor are gone, and even then, she waves her hand at her eyes. “Holy ravioli. I’ve never seen a better match.”

My mouth drops, and I quickly say, “I’m so sorry about all this.”

“Gen finds it supremely entertaining. Can’t you tell?”

I can tell that you’re beautiful. That you’re brilliant. You have this unbreakable spirit, you don’t get mad about the small things, you’re generous to a fault, and you want the world to be a better place, but you do it instead of just talking about it.

“She was my ride. I knew I should have driven, but she told me she’d pick me up. Would you be able to drop me off? If not, I can call for a taxi.”

“You live close by?” I don’t know why I said that or how I’m even having a borderline normal conversation right now. I do know where she lives because I looked her up. I have the address bouncing in my brain, but I can’t make the location stick or compute the distance between there and here at the moment.

“Not at all.”

“A taxi would cost a fortune. I can give you a ride if you want to take one from me. If you’d…if that would be okay. After we finish eating. Or not. I can understand if you want to leave immediately. I truly didn’t mean to sabotage this. Connor is really a great guy. He’s just had a rough go of it with his family. He normally doesn’t talk about that, so something extreme must have happened. I can only imagine.”

She tries a crab quiche while she’s thinking. I wish I knew what was going through her mind. I wish I could apologize again. More profusely. All night. “I think there was some truth in what he said.”

“Not all of it,” I counter.

“Not all of it. But some of it.”

I don’t know if we’re on the same page about the some of it part. I just know I’m not brave enough to confess that I haven’t stopped thinking about her. That I’ve had zero peace since I first met her, and my whole life has been upended in a number of weeks, and the only thing I would do differently is everything. I would be kinder, and I would try to hurt her less.

Fuck, I would do everything differently.

But if I had, we wouldn’t be here right now.

“As cheesy as it is, I think a beach walk might be nice. We could get the crabanana splits to go,” she says.

“Or come back for them another time.”

I expect anything from a very direct stare to her telling me there won’t be another time because this was supposed to pretty much be a final hurrah sort of deal before we each go off and live our respective lives that don’t involve each other.

“Do you like sunset walks on the beach with possible crab breath?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I’ve never done one,” I reply with a shrug.

“With the crab breath?”

“With or without crab breath.”

Her smile reminds me why my life has turned into a living hell. If I was just brave enough to ask her on a real date…but no. That would be a wrench in her life that she doesn’t want. You only have one chance to make a first impression, and I made such a terrible one that it’s going to linger like a bad crab stench for a lifetime. Dead crab. Hot sun. That kind of stench. The best we could ever be is friends, and even that might be a stretch.

“We definitely should, then.”

“To wash the bad taste of this whole experience out of your mouth?”

She laughs. “No, we should go because the beach is nice. Plus, I have gum, so no need to worry about crab breath or any other slightly dubious aftertastes.”