Chapter 8

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Andrew

Tonight did not end the way I wanted it to at all. I wanted to take Sophie back to my room and finish what we'd started in the bar, not end up alone in my hotel room taking a cold shower. I hear my phone chime again and I reach for it with a smile on my face expecting it to be Sophie since we just said goodnight. Instead, it's a text from Evan.

Evan: I need to talk. Open your door.

Me: It's late.

Evan: Who cares? Opening your fucking door.

Me: Fine.

I throw back the covers and reach for a pair of shorts I have sitting on top of my bag. This better be important. I'm already pissed at him for the little show in the bar and I'm still not convinced he didn't have anything to do with the slumber party going on across the hall even though he swears it was all Rachel's idea.

"Come in." My voice sounds a little harsh so I try hard to tamp down some of the anger I feel towards him right now.

"Sorry. I'm just going fucking crazy and need to bounce my thoughts off someone. You're my best man. It's your duty to listen to me." He throws himself into the chair by the table and then leans forward, opening the minibar and scanning the alcohol for something to take the edge off. "What the hell? Where's the vodka?"

Shrugging, I sit back down on my bed and run a hand through my hair. "I don't know. What are you freaking out about?" His hands drop back to his lap and he leans back in the small chair.

"What if I'm making a mistake?" His words weigh my stomach down with a heavy feeling of panic.

"What do you mean?"

"What if I'm making a mistake marrying Rachel? What if I go through with this and then I'm miserable? Our parents have put a lot of money into this for us and I know they would not help me get out of it if I change my mind." He throws his head back and looks at the ceiling. His face is pinched in concentration. "I love her. I know that I love her, but I love Sophie too." His hand reaches up and rubs at his forehead like the thought is causing him physical pain.

"You don't love Sophie." I say, very certain I'm right.

"How the fuck would you know?" His head lifts up and his icy stare meets mine. "You aren't me, man. You have no idea what I'm feeling."

"I know because if you loved her you would've never hooked up with her best friend after she had only been gone a little while. She left, and you moved on like she never even mattered." I can see his jaw tick right before his face falls. I know that look. It's guilt. He tries to wipe it away with the palm of his hand but it's too late.

"Rachel was more than willing to help with the loneliness. What was I supposed to do? Sophie was in another state. I was an eighteen year-old boy. It had nothing to do with love." He pulls a small bottle of whiskey from the bar. "Don't judge me for banging her friend. You would have done the same thing if you were in my shoes."

"Fine. You were young. But now you aren't. You've been with Rachel for a long time now. Don't you think you should have figured your shit out before you asked her to marry you?" I have to tell myself this is just cold feet so I don't punch him in the face for dragging Sophie into this crazy last minute tailspin.

"I thought I was ready. I haven't cheated on her in six months. That sounds like I'm settling down right?" He's completely serious and I move to say something but he continues, "Now that I'm here and we're going out partying again I realize that maybe the last six months have just been too busy for me to try and get with other women. Tonight at the bar it felt so good to be out with the guys again. I want more nights like this. I need to be out where everyone is having fun. When Rachel and I get married, she's never going to be cool with me doing that without her."

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