Love Her Wilde

Lattes and Ultimatums: Asher

"I can't believe you're doing this to me."

My best friend, Ryder, rolled his eyes. "No one's doing anything TO you, ya fuckin' drama queen. Believe it or not, my wedding isn't about YOU."

"Couldn't I pair off with someone else?"

"You're the Best Man. Dylan is the Maid of Honor. You're stuck. Deal with it."

"I'll take a demotion."

"Jesus, dude. What's your problem?" Ryder asked, his annoyance at my questioning just barely bubbling beneath the surface. "Dylan is a sweet girl. I don't know why you're being such a prick about this."

"Because my girlfriend is going to kill me."

Boy, if I thought Ryder had rolled his eyes before, this one about took those peepers right out of his head. "Tell ol' Bridget to get fucked."

"Yeah, I don't think that's a great idea."

"Okay, Ash, it's my turn to be a prick," Ryder began sinking back into the cushy coffee shop chair and crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. "Your girlfriend? Little Miss Silver Spoon up on her high horse? She's a fucking asshole. Literally no her likes her except you."

I just stared at him, eyes wide, for a moment. "That's not exactly the world's best kept secret, Ry. You and Lita have never been particularly nice to her."

Ryder glared at me with the fire of a thousand suns. "Are you fucking kidding me right now? Li and I have spent the last fucking... year and a half trying with her. Every time we invite her somewhere, she doesn't want to go. Every time we plan a trip for all of us to be a part of, she bails last minute, half the time getting you to back out with her. I'M not being nice to her, Asher? SHE'S not trying with any of US."

"I don't think..."

"She couldn't even get the weekend off for your best friend's wedding, Ash. I somehow doubt she even really tried. How are you so fucking blinded? Is the pussy that good?"

My brows cinched together, nearly covering my eyes entirely. "There's no reason to be vulgar."

Ryder's eyes once again rolled back in his skull. I was beginning to think it was his permanent state, at least toward me. "Dude... I don't even know what to do any more. I guess... I guess if you have a problem having to hang out with Dylan, then... then maybe you just shouldn't come."

I felt like I'd been slapped in the face as I watched Ryder stand and collect his jacket and mostly finished latte. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying this is my wedding. Mine and Lita's. Dylan is her best friend and I'm not going to ask my fiancée to boot her. If you can't figure out how to make this work, then I'll find a new best man."

"Ryder..."

"I'm serious, Ash. Bridget's bullshit attitude that everyone who doesn't have a trust fund is somehow beneath her, is rubbing off on you. And it's not flattering." He polished off his likely lukewarm drink and gave me a hard stare. "Figure out how to get onboard or don't bother getting on the plane next weekend."

"Ryder, come on..."

"I'm sorry, Ash, but it's you causing all the problems right now. Not Dylan. None of this has anything to do with Dylan. You just don't approve of her job, and it's kind of gross."

He chucked his empty paper cup into a nearby trash bin and headed for the door, leaving me stunned, jaw dropped low enough it was practically dragging on the table in front of me.

This... this was not how I anticipated my morning starting.

I was still kind of reeling when I walked into the firm about an hour later. Ryder and I had been friends since birth. We grew up together, graduated together, went to college together. The only time we separated was when I went to law school, and he got drafted to the NHL. Even then, we were still best friends. Still both in Chicago, still playing street hockey together when we could both fit it in. Now he was getting married and I... I was practically blacklisted.