Page 7 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Four

Harper

Details for Tomorrow Night Fellas…

I never sleep well with someone new in my bed.

It’s unsettling and I don’t know why. Maybe because I’m worried they’ll post up and never leave.

Looks like my concerns weren’t that far off today…

Bailey isn’t “new” but she’s not Robyn…no one is Robyn.

We always slept well together. Even before we were married.

breathing patterns, rhythms…funny how that works…

It had been a mistake to let things linger all day with Bailey, and it would have been a mistake to try to fit another square peg into the round hole of his life.

Now he faced another life event with the entire crew—alone.

Candace’s fiftieth birthday dinner would be sure to draw them out in loving pairs: Murch and Candace, Shelby and Quentin, Lance and Jasmine.

Harper didn’t like being an appendage on a symmetrical gathering.

Work would be as good of an excuse as any to sit this one out.

Harper’s fingers hovered over the screen of his phone as he watched the text conversation unfold before him.

Eventually, he’d be expected to chime in.

But the reply in his mind wasn’t likely to be the one the others were expecting of him.

The text from Quentin appeared next.

Shelby’s been buggin’ me about it all week. We’ll be there.

Then Lance.

You know it. Me and Jas will be there!

Lance and his Caribbean Queen, Jasmine, married and happy. Since tragically losing the love of his life, Mia Morgan, to cancer a dozen years prior, Lance had recovered from tragedy and found a new mate, a great partner and someone the entire crew respected.

And, as Harper expected, less than a minute later came the text from Murch.

Harp??

Damn. It was almost as if they knew his exact stance, phone in hand, fingers hovering, ready to deliver an expertly crafted excuse.

After all, Candace had always been closest to Robyn.

Sure, she was part of the crew and Murch’s wife, but what did Harper know about Candace, really?

What was it for him to be there, without Robyn, and in the middle of an important deadline?

Plus, where were they going? Tatiana? That place wasn’t cheap.

If Murch was footing the bill he could save a few dollars by taking Harper off the list.

Harper began to type, carefully considering each word . I will. No, he deleted “will.” I intend to be there. Harper hit send.

Awww shit, Harp is trying to jump ship. Lance’s reply appeared immediately.

Then Quentin’s. Yeah nigga, come up for air. You been swimming in that ass for a minute.

Um, fellas, I’m in the car with Candace, Murch wrote.

Damn, now she’s seen my reply. Already, things weren’t as simple as he would have preferred.

Man, detach from the car! Get off the Bluetooth, Quentin replied. Moments later Murch responded.

Fine, I’m off. Harper, Candace says she wants to see you.

Harper had a good reason to hang back, to pass on the festivities.

Especially since things had gone so far left earlier.

Would Bailey have been his date? Probably not.

He’d tried before to introduce new “friends” to his old ones.

None of that worked. It was like an incongruous note in the right song.

Maybe they all had too much history together.

But Lance had found Jasmine. So there was reason to hope, but reality hadn’t been particularly kind.

Today didn’t go so well. Harper decided to reply. He wouldn’t make an excuse so much as he would just be transparent. The fellas would getit.

Great night, bad morning with Bailey. A brotha’s got a deadline. I tried to be nice and do brunch, but that turned into a walking tour of Brooklyn. And when I tried to head back to the crib to hit this work shit, she got pissed.

Harper hesitated. Then he spelled out the rest because these were his boys, and good or bad, it was true.

So she called me a fuck boy and bounced.

Dots appeared immediately; replies were about to flyin.

LOL!! came from Quentin. And then, Aye joe, if I was you, I’d be that.

Murch wrote, “Fuck boy.” It’s ironic how women were slut-shamed and now this is our scarlet letter. I’m sorry, Harp. But Fuck Boy or not, we still want to see you tomorrow night.

Lance added: Yeah, fuck-boi! Come on out! LOL!!

As Harper smiled and shook his head, contemplating the text and how to respond, Quentin’s face appeared on the full screen, an incoming call. He answered.

“What’s with this ‘intend to be there’ bullshit, man?

” Quentin came into view, poised against black leather cushioning, appearing to jostle gently in the back seat of a chauffeured car in the city.

“These times are sacred. We don’t know how many days we’re gonna get.

You gotta mark these milestones, joe.” Even since their high school time together, Q was always a voice of conscience, of reason.

He wasn’t about to let Harper get away with some weak excuse to bail on a chance for fellowship with the crew.

Harper knew Quentin was correct. He’d made a bad choice earlier, not setting a firmer boundary with Bailey.

He didn’t know how to keep it casual. It was never just sex, even when it should have been.

So now when he should be there for his friends, he’d blown his schedule.

Even if Candace wasn’t so much his friend, her milestone birthday meant that all his friends would be gathered in one place, an important convergence of schedules, priorities, and other obligations that far too often kept them apart.

There was plenty of reason to be there, of this Harper was sure.

“I know, Q,” Harper admitted. “I really do have this deadline, though…and plus what do I look like being a third wheel? I should probably just sit this one out.”

“Nigga, you’d be a seventh wheel, but who cares? Stop with the excuses, Harp. When have you ever not gotten your work done? Call homegirl, invite her to come with you…” Quentin said.

Harper scoffed. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen—”

“Look…” Quentin continued, “Call her up, invite her tonight. She’ll take it like an apology.

Sometimes you just gotta fall on the sword.

Plus, we’re used to you bringing a sidepiece.

We already takin’ bets on how the wives are gonna react.

And she can’t be worse than the last one.

” He chuckled. Suddenly, like a shadow, Shelby’s stunningly crafted face slid over Quentin’s and into Harper’s view.

“Nope. No random bitches, Harper!” She looked at him with wide eyes, all long lashes and eyeliner, waiting for his confirmation.

He had to laugh. “Hi to you too, Shelby.” Harper greeted her with a good-natured smile. Clearly, she’d been sitting next to Quentin in the car, listening the whole time. “Thanks for the heads up, Q.” Harper could hear him snickering behind Shelby’s head before she slid back out of view.

“Hey, I don’t keep no secrets from my wife…

.” His look in the direction of Shelby’s seat made it clear who that comment was for.

Harper shook his head while Quentin slid over for an audible kiss.

These two…not in a million years did I imagine this was possible, Harper reflected.

Quentin and Shelby once hated each other.

Like feral animals. And now they played, laughed, and joked like they had always been made for one another.

With the ease that he’d only known once for himself… with Jordan.

“Okay, I’ll be there. Tomorrow night. No random acquaintances, Shelby,” Harper confirmed.

“Excellent. See you there!” Shelby said.

“Later, joe,” Quentin added before he hung up.

At the end of the call, Harper set his timer.

Ninety minutes, no distractions, no email, no internet, no porn.

It would be just him and his words, writing in one of the leather journals, or even his voice recorder would suffice.

In times like these, a good idea was nothing to waste.

And the time was right, at the end of the day, with the sun setting, ducking down below the Manhattan skyline just beyond his wraparound balcony.

Stepping outside, he took a deep breath of the crisp air that lingers in March.

Spring was being elusive thus far. Hence the rut in which he found himself.

The seasonal transition, the reinvigoration of coming change, was energy he thrived off of, but it was in a holding pattern.

Back inside, after finding his thinking chair, Harper sat with his journal folded in his lap and willed the ideas to come. He set a guided meditation to play, and the soothing voice immediately filled the room.

“Let’s take a full inhale for five counts.”

Yes, inhale.

“And exhale for five…” Harper released the air in his lungs and tried again to focus.

But instead of new ideas, he kept thinking of old ones.

His mind showed him a string of images, each an example of why he’d rather be a seventh wheel at dinner the next evening, than endure another painful attempt of trying to mesh his dating companions with the crew.

His day with Bailey had already been painful enough, and worse, distracting.

“Fill the belly,” the recorded voice continued.

“Be present in this moment…” But again, his mind only showed him the past. With his eyes closed, a smile crossed his face.

He was thinking of Jordan now. Jordan again…

She’d think the “fuck-boy” experience was hilarious.

She’d probably even agree. But she had a way of telling him about himself, of showing him the truth without the harshness of Shelby.

In a way they could both laugh, but still pulling no punches.

Boy did he miss her; their communication had slowed.

I’ll hit her up… he resolved. But only after I knock out these ten pages.