Page 11 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

When she did share her dreams with him, it always seemed like they landed in fertile ground for the seeds to grow.

She had the urge to call him. Being back in the Apple, it seemed like there were memories of him hidden around every corner.

Like that day he was being honored at Lincoln Center for Pieces Of Us —one of many accolades.

He looked like a man who had arrived then.

Confident, wise, gracious, and…sexy. That had been October 2024.

Just six months ago. Countless FaceTimes, texts, email, and phone conversations through the end of the year made it feel as if they had no lag time between their reconnections—despite her move to Malibu and his hermitting to write his masterwork for two years.

She was proud of him. The memories made her smile.

She picked up her phone. But— But I’m not fucking with Harper like that right now, she reminded herself, and motioned to put the phone away. But then it started ringing.

Shelby Taylor-Spivey’s fabulous profile picture in all its blond splendor appeared on Jordan’s screen, a video call request. Briefly, a spike of apprehension hit as she realized she’d told no one, not even Shelby, that she was doing this day of meetings in New York.

Her plan was to slip into the city and slip back out before anyone knew the difference.

Of course Shelby would hunt her down, her intuition on overdrive.

Jordan considered not accepting the call, letting it go to voicemail, but then Shelby would call back, and again, especially if she wanted something.

Might as well pick up. But she selected the option of voice only and left the camera off.

“Hey, Shelby,” Jordan said breezily into the receiver.

“You’re in town, aren’t you?” Shelby levied her good-natured accusation.

How did she know that? Jordan wondered, swiveling her head to look out of the tinted windows and into neighboring cars.

“And before you answer that,” Shelby continued, “I can hear the horns in the background. The sounds of New York traffic are like my lullaby. So, you might as well come clean and turn on the camera.” Reluctantly, Jordan hit the button to activate her camera, revealing a well-coiffed Shelby in the backdrop of her airy Manhattan penthouse living room.

“Um hum, I knew it,” Shelby said, barely cracking a smile.

“It was just a quick trip,” Jordan protested half-heartedly. “Just for a few meetings. I’m already headed back to the airport now.”

Shelby’s face crinkled. “You’re leaving ?! Why would you do that? Candace’s fiftieth birthday dinner is tomorrow.” And then, as if for emphasis, she added, “Everyone’s going.”

“Since when are you hyped to go to Candace’s birthday?”

“First, it’s not just any birthday. It’s her fiftieth. And…we’re close now. Of course we’re going. And you’re in town? So, you should be there too. I’m going to tell them to add one more…”

“Shelby, no, I have to get back.” Jordan knew that this wasn’t nearly enough to stop the tide.

“For what? Don’t act like you have to go to work. And if you did, you can move any meeting. You’re Jordan Motherfucking Armstrong. Tell them to turn the car around and head back uptown.”

Jordan sighed. “Shelby, we’re stuck in traffic, my flight is in less than two hours. I’m going back to Los Angeles.”

“Nonsense. Change your flight. The city isn’t the same without you.

Come on, Jordan. We want to see you. Stay here at the townhouse.

We just got back from Amagansett, but we still have plenty of room here.

” Jordan laughed a bit. Still have plenty of room?

Shelby and Quentin’s return to the city from their Hamptons palace probably did feel like downsizing.

And yet, their city home had more bedrooms than Shelby could enter in a week.

With just one child—who was in college— why did they need all that space? Jordan wondered.

Shelby continued her pitch. “We’re good for excellent wine and top-tier gummies. You can’t tell me you won’t have a good time.”

“Fine,” Jordan said. Shelby was unrelenting anyway. “Let me see if I can move some things around.”

“Really?” On the screen, Shelby’s face looked genuinely surprised.

“Yes, I will think about it.”

Shelby narrowed her eyes. “Hmm…you’re lying.

But I love you for humoring me.” She trailed off with a small giggle to herself.

Jordan could only smile. Shelby was a trip, always.

“Seriously though, I’d really like to see you.

I miss you all the way out there on the left coast. I want you here.

” Jordan was touched by Shelby’s rare showing of vulnerability.

She started to feel swayed. “And Harrrperrrr’s going to be there. ”

Jordan snapped back to attention. “Since when do I set my schedule around Harper?” she quipped.

“Oh, you are so full of shit.” Jordan could only laugh. Shelby knew her.

“Just think about it, okay? Ugh, I’m done being mushy and soft. It’s making my skin sag.”

“Okay, Shelby, I’m hanging up now.”

“Just do think about it, though, okay? Love you! K! Bye!”

Jordan managed to hang up with only a thin commitment.

And she was thinking, just as she said she would.

But she was thinking about Harper and how long it had been since they’d actually talked.

January? No, before the new year. Sooo, was that two, three months ago?

The last real conversation had been about some rando he was talking about taking to Lance’s New Year’s Eve party.

After that, their texting had slowed to one-to-two-word responses: Hit you back, TTYL, Happy New Year, check out this article…

Regardless, a real conversation had been a while ago.

Too long. Too long to know what to expect tomorrow evening.

What if he brings another rando date? Terrible.

And then being forced to sit next to him all night, or worse, across from him with…

whomever…That was something she was going to have to unpack, again, in therapy.

She looked at her calendar; her next appointment with Dr. Clark was scheduled for tomorrow.

“Still headed to JFK, Ms. Armstrong?” The driver turned back slightly, awaiting her response while the traffic light overhead burned red.