“You’re finally here,” she says and sets down her phone down long enough to pierce me with a glare.
I walk over to her station and bend down to give her a kiss on the cheek. She draws away. “Don’t touch. I’m getting my makeup done, which, by the way, you need to do. You can’t look like this for my pictures.”
I don’t ask like what, mostly because I don’t want to hear the answer. I just smile and nod. “Sure. It’s your day.”
“Mom texted to say Jack is your guest today.”
“He is.” I brace myself for questions about Brad.
“Who’s Jack?” asks Claire from across the room. Claire is my sister’s best friend and maid of honor.
My sister answers before I can. “He’s a hot cop friend of Daphne’s. If it doesn’t work out with Richard tonight, you should definitely go after Jack. He doesn’t have much money because he’s only a detective, but he’s probably good for a one-night ride.”
“Um, he’s my date,” I interject.
“He’s not really your date,” my sister replies. She twists in her chair and leans around me to address Claire. “The two have been actual friends for years and I’m sure that Jack agreed to be her date just so she doesn’t look bad.” She wags a finger in my face. “Aunt Cathy is going to be mad because if you hadn’t forced Jack to come and hang on your arm, Cousin Sara could’ve brought her boyfriend. I hear he plays a sport.”
“Oh, a professional athlete?” Claire’s excited. She twists to address me. “Why don’t you send your cop home so Sara can bring her boyfriend. I’ve never had a chance to meet a real professional athlete.”
“He doesn’t play any sports. He’s the announcer at the Southern Bank Arena,” I inform the two women.
Wendy scrunches her nose. “How do you know?”
“I represented a woman who had a discrimination lawsuit involving him.”
“Boring,” Claire says, although I’m not sure if she’s referring to the lawsuit or Cousin Sara’s boyfriend’s job. “Tell me more about your friend, Jack. So he’s single? How’s he look in a uniform?”
“He usually runs around in jeans and boots,” Wendy answers as if she has regular contact with Jack.
Before I can get in a word, the two begin to discuss Jack in uncomfortably familiar terms, speculating on his shoe size, hand size, and ultimately, jock size.
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I guess no one believes Jack could be my actual boyfriend—not even Claire who barely knows me. I wonder why that is? It can’t just be purely because he’s hot enough to fire a thousand fantasies and I look like a top-heavy brick. Claire wouldn’t be able to pick Jack out of a lineup. Frustrated by the conversation, I blurt out, “Why don’t you buy that Jack’s my actual date?”
Wendy stops talking immediately and blinks like a confused owl at my terse demand. “Haven’t you and Jack been friends since you were, like, five?”
“Yes. What’s that got to do with anything?”
“If you had any attraction to each other, you’d have slept together by now. You’re friends, which is cool, I guess. It’s nice having a male friend that isn’t trying to get in your pants all the time. ’Course, Jack’s going to end up with someone else at some point and she’s going to feel threatened by you.”
“It’s true,” Claire chimes in. “No woman is going to be okay with another woman being her husband’s best friend. You should enjoy his company while you can. Once he’s in a serious relationship, you’ll be punted to the side.”
“Jack’s been in a lot of relationships and we’re still friends,” I protest.
Wendy snorts. “Please. Jack hasn’t been in a serious relationship with anything but his badge since he made detective.”
“That’s not tru—” I cut myself off. Wendy’s right. If I think about it, the last time Jack had a girlfriend was right around the time he got his detective’s badge. He hasn’t had a girlfriend since. I’m sure he was getting laid. He’s too physical not to be celibate. I mean, the boy actually enjoys working out and generating a sweat, so he’s definitely getting sex regularly. I try not to think about it because it makes me sick to my stomach, but I force myself to do a mental review of Jack’s dating history and come up with a blank.
“See, I’m right,” my sister declares. “Claire, if you’re interested, it’s only going to be a one-time deal.”
“I’m fine with that. If he’s as hot as you say he is, it’ll be a good one night.” Claire dimples.
I want to object, but as Jack’s friend, I don’t have that right. Is being just the friend all that it’s cracked up to be? I’d convinced myself that in order to have Jack in my life forever, we would need to be friends. Wendy has presented an equally plausible, but supremely terrible alternative—that I could stand to lose Jack even as a friend.