Who We Could Be - Chelsea M. Cameron Page 0,1

and I walked back across the street from the ice cream stand and up the road a little way to her apartment above the coffee shop. I was still broke as hell from three years of college and no degree, so I was crashing with my parents until I got married and moved in with Gus. I’d decided a long time ago that I didn’t want to live with him until we got married and I was sticking to that.

Monty’s place was tiny, but it was cozy, and I spent more time here than I did at my parent’s house most weeks. Even with my older three brothers moved out, it was still a lot being twenty-four and having to tell your mom when you were going to be home.

I flopped on Monty’s couch, which we’d found at a yard sale three years ago and was covered in dark green velvet.

“Are you still sure you don’t want to do the whole bachelorette thing?” I asked as she hung up her hat and curled her feet up in the giant armchair that my aunt and her wife had given her from their antique shop.

“Yes, I don’t know how much more clear I can be. I don’t want to do that shit, Tessa.”

I put my hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, I get it. I just didn’t want you to regret anything later. I’m just doing my duty as MOH and BFF.” There was no one else I would have allowed to be Monty’s Maid of Honor, even if she’d had someone else in mind.

“It’s fine. I’m just not into that,” she said, tracing a fabric bird printed on the chair.

“I know, I know.”

My phone buzzed with a text from Gus, just a funny meme. We had a date planned tonight, but all I wanted to do was sit on the couch and read or watch something.

Can we just chill at your place? I asked.

Yeah, no prob. See you at 8?

Yup, sounds good. I thought about it for a second and then added a heart emoji, but deleted it before I hit Send.

“You need to go?” she asked.

“Nope, just hanging out with Gus later, but I’m all yours for now.”

Then her phone made a sound and I waited as she read the message and typed out a response, her forehead contracting.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing, just TJ.”

“Has he apologized?”

Monty sighed and shook her head.

“Not yet. I told him that I’m not compromising on this and he can do what he wants with that.” Her fingers fluttered and she glanced down at her ring before snapping her eyes back up to meet mine.

“Are you sure you want to marry him?” It was a question I’d asked hundreds of times in hundreds of ways.

“Yes,” she said, her voice sharp. “Yes, I am marrying him.”

I wanted to argue with her, but we’d had this fight before and we never got anywhere.

“Please, can we not do this right now?” She pressed her fingers to her eyebrows, massaging, and I wondered if she was fighting a migraine.

“Yeah, okay,” I said, getting up. “Do you need some ice?” Often if she put an ice pack on the back of her neck, it would help.

“No, I’m fine. Just stressing about getting everything done.” Even throwing a small wedding was a monumental task, and it was almost here. She had a dress, we had a place, and in one month my best friend was going off into her new life.

I shoved those thoughts to the back of my mind and went to her cute kitchen to make her some tea.

A set of arms wound around me and a chin sat on my shoulder.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” I said, pulling away to turn off the kettle.

“You okay?” she asked. I poured the water into two mugs and added the bags of tea and turned to face her.

“Are you sure, Ford?” I’d read about a character in a book who called people by their last names when I was younger and thought it was cool, so I’d tried it out for Monty and it had just stuck. We’d been eight at the time.

She took the mug of tea from me.

“Yes, I’m sure. This is what I want.” The linoleum of the kitchen floor was cool under my feet and the tea was hot in my hands.

“I don’t believe you,” I said, voicing the words that I’d been thinking since she’d told me she was marrying TJ and that she was happy with him.

“I don’t need