The best man

Chapter 3

I'm nervous. My foot taps uncontrollably under my desk as I try to focus, but the closer it gets to meeting Conor, the more my chest tightens. I can feel a panic attack building—my heart races, and my hands are clammy. *Why am I doing this?*

I feel scared. Hurt. Frustrated. I want to prove I'm fine, that I'm okay without him. But deep down, I know this might be a terrible idea. *Maybe I should message him, tell him something came up... that I'm too busy?* But no, it would be rude to cancel at the last minute. What if he's already there?

The decision is made for me when my phone buzzes.

"I'm at the café!" his message reads.

I swallow hard. *I can't do this...* My mind says no, but my body moves toward the door on autopilot, as if I don't even have a choice in the matter. Before I know it, I'm outside, walking toward the café, my legs moving faster than my thoughts.

There he is. He's sitting outside, casually scrolling through his phone. The sight of him stops me in my tracks. When he spots me, he waves with that familiar smile, glasses perched on his nose. He stands up as I approach, maybe to give me a hug.

*God, he's handsome.* The thought catches me off guard, and I instantly hate myself for it. I don't want to feel this way about him anymore. But when he wraps his arms around me in a big, warm hug, I can't help but notice how good he smells. It's infuriating.

*Focus, Lily. Focus.*

I sit down, trying to pull myself together as he starts talking.

"How are you? You look tired," he says, his voice light, almost teasing.

Of course I look tired. The thought of seeing him has been gnawing at me for the last 24 hours, keeping me up all night and making today unbearable. But I don't say that. I just plaster on a smile.

"I'm fine," I reply, my voice a little too bright.

The server arrives quickly, asking for our orders. I'm not hungry, so I settle on a cup of tea. Conor, always so casual, orders a chicken salad and an iced coffee like this is just another day, like we're just two old friends catching up.

We sit in silence for a few moments, and I focus on my tea, trying to ignore the awkwardness hanging in the air. I know he feels it too, but he's always been better at pretending things are fine.

"Not very talkative today," he says, breaking the silence. There's a smile in his voice, like he's trying to coax me into the light.

I pause, rubbing my arms, feeling frustration bubble up. "Not much to talk about, honestly."

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not expecting that. "You would usually initiate conversation, but today you're very calm," he says with a grin. "You seem distant."

His words hit a nerve. Distant? He has the nerve to call *me* distant?

I finally glance up at him, my eyes narrowing slightly. "You ignored me when you were with your fiancée at the wedding planning meeting, acting like I wasn't even there. And then, after the fitting, you told me you saw me when you came to pick her up. You didn't even acknowledge me." My voice is calm, but there's an edge to it.

I watch as his smile fades, replaced by something more serious. I keep going. "So, if you want to talk about being distant, Conor, trust me, the list is long."