May the Best Man Win by Mira Lyn Kelly

friendly shoulder bump that should have had steam shooting from her ears.
    But they were on good behavior so she capped it, offering him a smarting pinch on the cheek and a singsong, “That’s what I like to hear.”
    Yeah, that was his girl.
    By the time his pork chop arrived, the booth was straining to accommodate a wedding party of ten, the now-defunct wedding binder, the post-baby-bombshell replacement binder, and Peg’s newly fractured fibula—which was expected to be healed in time for the maid of honor to wear matching heels at the wedding—kicked out at an angle so no one would bump it.
    He might have been more relieved if he wasn’t so aware of Emily beside him, her thigh touching his every time someone at the table jostled or needed to reach across for a bite of whatever plate everyone else was moaning over.
    To her credit, Emily didn’t seem fazed. If anything, she appeared to be enjoying her opportunity to exchange a few barbs beneath the din of Sally’s chatter about the seasonal merits of one flower over another.
    And, okay, maybe some sick part of him was getting off on it too. Hell, they’d spent the better part of a decade without an outlet for their mutual hostilities.
    A decade. Could that be right?
    He turned, propping his arm on the booth back behind her so he was angled in a way where his words would be for her and her alone.
    â€œWhat?” she asked, giving him her profile.
    â€œOut of curiosity, when did you actually start to hate me?”
    The question caught her by surprise, earning him a startled look from those big, brown eyes. But then he could see the wheels turning as she debated a response.
    Would she be thorny because it had become almost a sport between them, or would she give him a straight answer?
    A put-upon breath was the compromise, and then she leaned in closer to his ear to answer. “Eight years ago. After the accident.”
    Right. But Eddie flooring the gas and driving into that concrete train support hadn’t been any kind of accident at all.
    He turned, brushing a bit of her hair from her face. “Just then? I would have thought longer.”
    Her posture became somehow more relaxed, and her brow furrowed slightly in consideration. She licked at the soft, pink bed of her lower lip.
    â€œNo. Before that, it was more disappointment. Frustration. Maybe even a little confusion. I don’t know. But after the accident, it matured.”
    He pulled back and nodded. “Into this white-hot loathing we have today.”
    â€œJust,” she said with a smile he couldn’t help but return, and maybe even got a little caught up in.
    And then Sally was leaning in his direction. Okay, his and Emily’s.
    â€œYou know how much I want this to work. And you guys probably have more weddings between you than the lot of us combined. So let’s talk reception ideas. The church is secured, but the reception… We need venues. A list of what’s available, capacities, whether they will let us cater or bring in our own cake. You guys know what works and what doesn’t, so I’m hoping you can scout a few locations.”
    Scouting. She didn’t want him to just do a quick Internet search.
    â€œHonestly, if you two go together, we’ll have the best feedback and”—Sally smiled, but there was an alarming glossiness in her eyes—“I just want it to be special, you know?”
    Damn.
    Jase turned to Emily just as she faced him. Their eyes met in dismay. Because there was no cool way to turn down a pregnant woman on the brink of tears.
    â€œI can’t wait,” Jase said, almost choking on the words.
    â€œWe’ve got you covered.” Emily reached past him to give Sally’s hand a squeeze. “Me more than Jase, but he’ll be a help too.”
    * * *
    Outside the restaurant, Emily was on her phone, her gaze trained on the sidewalk in front of her toes. She’d gotten a call