“And humble too,” Harper adds, squeezing his arm.

“Yes, I’ll be there shortly,” I say.

They take off, daughter holding her father’s hand, son holding mom’s, while they stroll up the streets of New York on a summer day.

I turn to Truly, the Saturday morning crowds scurrying by. “He’s right.”

“I know.”

“Why don’t we try to talk to your brother later today? I know we haven’t entirely sorted out what this is, but I also think we both know it’s not stopping, and we ought to be honest with him.”

“Because of that whole ‘crazy for you’ thing?”

I smile. “Yes, because of that little part. I’ll invite him to lunch. And we’ll go together.”

But later that morning after we parted, a message from Truly arrives, asking me to meet her first.

43

From: Darren Whitcomb

To: Truly Goodman

Re: Your Proposal

Dear Ms. Goodman,

Thank you so much for the thoughtful and well-researched presentation. It’s clear you devoted a lot of time and insight to your proposal. I wholeheartedly believe your new pub concept will be a tremendous success.

That said, my partners aren’t ready to move forward yet, but we’ll be in touch down the road. Thank you again, and we wish you success in all your endeavors.

All the best,

Darren

From: MixologistExtraordinaire at gmail

To: MixologistExtraordinaire at gmail

Re: Disappointments

Dear Truly “Don’t Let This Get You Down” Goodman,

This is the e-mail I will save. This is what I want to remember. How it feels to try something different.

Because today goes like this:

After I cry pathetic rainfalls of tears that I collect in buckets of misery, I consider calling my brother. Then Charlotte.

They’ve always been my people. They’re the ones I’d turn to.

But it’s a Sunday morning, and Charlotte is with her kids and hubby. My brother is likely busy with Sloane.

I wipe my tears, wash my face, and draw a deep breath.

I review the facts.

So what if I wanted to do a Parisian-themed place more than an English one? So what if he doesn’t want either the English pub or the Paris-type bar? So what? So fucking what?

He’s not the key to my happiness.

I will do what I’ve always done. Solve the problem. Turn down another avenue.

But maybe I don’t have to do it alone. Maybe, just maybe, there’s someone who understands me who I can turn to now.

Yes, I think there is. Time to do things differently.

Xoxo

Truly

44

After softball practice, Malone tells me he’ll meet up with me in thirty minutes, after he runs a quick errand with Sloane. His fiancée waves goodbye and says she’ll see me again soon.

I leave Central Park and head to the diner, prepping along the way, as I do. Walking and thinking, running and thinking, practicing what to say. It’s like a best man’s speech. You put your best foot forward. Be self-deprecating, but also don’t take yourself too seriously. Be honest, but also fun.

I can do this. I can talk to my friend and sort out my feelings for his sister.

I’ll just say something like, I’m crazy for your sister. I’ll treat her well. We’ll make it work. That’s really all there is to it. With my plan ready, I check my phone to make sure there aren’t any last-minute issues with tonight’s wedding.

And nope, all is well.

Perhaps this is the winding down, the beginning of the exit plan.

I’ll finish out this wedding, serve as the groomsman for one of Josh’s skateboarding clients in a couple of weeks, then do one last job that came in a couple of days ago. With that, I should have almost everything I need for Abby. Then, I can devote all my energy to growing the Modern Gentleman.

I spot a message on my phone from Walker that he’ll be at the wedding tonight. That’s a surprise.

Walker: The DJ is sick, so I got the sub call. That’s why I say you should never eat sushi the night before a gig. Bad fish. It’s always the fish.

Jason: “Fish” is a suitable answer for whenever someone asks what went wrong.

Walker: True that. When I see you tonight, should I act like I don’t know you? :)

Jason: Just act like someone who refuses to play Coldplay, and we’ll be all good.