Part IV / Brian

9/7/13: 4 p.m.

The hotel stationery stared up at me, blank, taunting. I could not fill it to save my life. It wasn’t for lack of inspiration, nor words bouncing around in my head. But this felt like one of the most important things I ever wrote, and nothing seemed right.

Of course, it’s not like I had any peace and quiet to consider these things.

Among the video game noises from the other room, there came a loud thunk, followed by Nick shouting, “Son of a bitch!” and the song of Baylee’s cackling laughter. I hauled myself up from the bed and picked my way through the disaster of bedclothes, dude clothes, beer cans and food wrappers that littered the suite.

“Would it kill you not to cuss in front of my son?” I said as I walked into the sitting area, where Baylee and Nick, a mismatched pair of groomsmen if two ever walked the earth, were sitting on the couch, playing Epic Mickey. Halo was sitting discarded on the floor, next to a couple of abandoned headsets and a half-full pizza box. The coffee table sat at an odd, abused angle, and I knew Nick had kicked it.

Nick looked up at me, his face very pink. “It might, dude. It might.”

Baylee was grinning from ear to ear. “Uncle Nick’s getting his butt handed to him,” he informed me.

I winked at him. Like father, like son. “Uncle Nick’s a sore, sore loser. He wasn’t that much older than you when I was beating him at Super Mario 3.”

The door opened as I spoke, and A.J. walked in, babyless once more, holding a Red Bull. “You lettin’ the kid beat you, Nick?”

Nick was beet-red by now. “It’s not my fault he’s a fu—friggin’…video game savant.”

I snickered. “All right, Carter, take five.”

As Nick got up, A.J. plopped down in his spot and picked up the controller. “Come on, short man,” he said. “I’ll give you a real challenge.”

Nick and I picked our way back through the labyrinth of filth. We were going to have to pick up all this crap before we left for the ceremony. Housekeeping was going to tan our hides. Not booking a separate room for tonight was one of the dumbest things I’d done this year, and that’s saying a lot, as you no doubt know if you’ve read this far. I thought about calling downstairs to book another room. I didn’t care if it was a suite. Hell, all we needed was a bed.

Shut up.

The suite had a tiny balcony that faced into the hotel’s courtyard, seven stories down, and Nick and I both leaned over the railing. It was quiet, cool, shaded from the late afternoon sun. An older couple ambled across the red bricks, each dragging a suitcase. A young woman sat on the edge of one of the planters, phone to her ear.

“You know, Brian,” Nick said with sudden earnestness, “from this height, you could really hock a loogie on someone.”

I snorted with laughter, but it was all I could manage. Any other day of the year, I could do Wayne’s World quotes with Nick until we were blue in the face. But not today. My mind was a million miles away.

Well, to be more accurate, about five miles away, at my house. I wished I’d asked A.J. how things were going over there. I was itching to text Meg and tell her just one of the stupid jokes from last night, or one of the memories spinning through my head today, or how much I couldn’t wait to see her walking down the aisle. I wanted to hear her voice, her laugh. But noooooo. My phone was down the hall in Kevin’s pocket, and no one else would give me theirs for even a minute. What was so bad about helping a groom out? Why even have phones in the first place?

I studied Nick. My best man. He was a whole different person from last time, visibly and invisibly. Last time, he’d avoided me like the plague all day. Last time, I would have avoided me like the plague, too. Strangely, I couldn’t remember how I’d felt then. Surely I’d been a ball of nerves then, too. But I couldn’t remember what kind of nerves. Had they been anticipation? Had they been cold feet?

Nick glanced over at me. He raised an eyebrow. “Take a picture, dude. That’s how rumors start.”

“I’m glad you’re here, man,” I said.

Nick sort of laughed. “Well, yeah. Where else would I be?”

“No, I mean…being my best man and all that.” I reached up and clapped Nick on the shoulder. “It really means a lot. It wasn’t…” I cleared my throat, which suddenly tickled. “Wasn’t like this last time, y’know?”

Nick shrugged. “I was a dumb fucking kid. And I didn’t like your last wife. But mostly, I was a dumb fucking kid.”

”We both had a lot of crap to work through. I’m glad we did.” I cracked my knuckles, studied the red bricks below. We were both a lot better off than we had been three or four years ago. I’d reached out after my divorce, which, in a million different ways, had been a blunt pipe to the back of the head if there ever was one. We hadn’t been Frick and Frack in a long time, and getting back there hadn’t been easy. But it had been worth it.

Getting back to being me hadn’t been easy. But it had been worth it. Getting back to being able to love someone hadn’t been easy. But that had been worth it, too, and the payoff was beautiful.

“Man, I’m just glad you’re actually happy,” Nick said. “Glad to be a part of it.”

I couldn’t keep a smile from spreading across my face. “She’s, uh, she’s pretty great.”

“She’s good for you, dude. Dorks of a feather flock together.” Nick was silent for a long moment. He kicked the railing lightly, and I felt the vibration in my elbows. “Can I ask you a lame question?”

“Is there any other kind with you?’

Nick ignored my crack. “When’d you know?”

“Know?” I echoed.

“You know. That this shit was happening.”

I blew out a breath. It depended on what his definition of “this shit” was.

When had I known I was attracted to her? The minute I saw her, standing in front of the stage in Miami, with her curves and her smile and her crazy, gorgeous hair. She was like no woman I’d ever given the time of day, and it had actually hurt to look at her, knowing she was everything I hated, obviously mean and ruthless behind that easy smile. I’d called that one all wrong. She’d been honest and fun and sarcastic and so good at breaking down my defenses, so hard to resist liking.

When had I known I was in love with her? The first time I’d kissed her, in that hotel hallway in Nashville, with those sexy curves pressed against me. Right up until that moment, that night had felt like leaving it all on the field, like there was nothing left to lose after a week of flirting with her and fighting with myself. But the second her lips had touched mine, I’d known exactly what I had to lose, that I’d never get enough of her sweetness, that, damn it, love had hunted me down after all. I still felt that way every time I kissed her.

But when had I known for absolute sure I was going to marry her? Not just talking out of my ass?

“You remember when we were, I guess, sorta broken up?” I said. Nick nodded. “One of y’all asked me what I’d do without her. I couldn’t even make myself think about it.” I chewed my lip, looking back down at the courtyard. Talking about it now felt like a betrayal of my own feelings, like flipping on the light to watch the roaches scatter. “You don’t really know who you can’t live without until it actually seems possible.”

“Couldn’t’ve been me.” Nick grinned. “I was too busy punching you in the face for being a dumb-ass.”

I snickered. “Yeah, thanks for that. My face was still, like, green when she showed up.”

“’Swhat I’m here for.”

I studied the bricks in the courtyard, my eyes finding imaginary patterns. There were a million things I could say about her. There were no words to truly describe how I felt about her. She’d pulled me out of darkness, and she made every day feel like a win, without even trying.

“She really is the best thing that’ll ever happen to me,” I said at last, just as the silence was getting awkward. “I love the hell out of her.”

It was Nick’s turn to clap me on the shoulder. “And she loves you, dude.”

I turned my back on the courtyard. I could see that stationery sitting on the bed. I had to write something sometime. I could feel the words crystallizing. I had to get them out before they disappeared. On a more practical note, I had to get them into her wedding present, which Howie’s wife had agreed to wrap, because come on, who ever heard of a guy who could wrap a present?

And we had to clean up this shitshow of a hotel room before I brought my wife back here. My wife. Meg was going to be my wife, my partner for life. It was the best news I could think of.

“Come on, broseph. We got stuff to do.” I pushed back from the railing and opened the door.

“What ‘we,’ kemosabe?” Nick said as he followed me inside.

“We really oughta get this room cleaned up.” I smiled. “And I gotta write a letter to my girl.”

The minutes were slipping away, and I wanted nothing but to urge them on, with less than two and a half hours until I married Meg Michaels.