“Hey, you are a real doctor.” Carly squeezed his hand. “A real and good one.”
Her words caught Andrew’s attention and he smiled at Brian. “You’re not going to fail this rotation. You aced the others, you’ll ace this.”
“No worries,” Elle added brightly.
The swarm of butterflies in Brian’s belly didn’t exactly settle with his friends’ reassurances but they did ease off a little. “Fingers crossed I don’t kill anyone, right?”
Elle rolled her eyes and said “As if,” and Carly gave him a light smack on the back of the head, but it was Andrew’s clear, “You won’t,” that Brian focused on. Andrew had never not believed Brian could do this.
“Okay, okay.” James lifted his voice to get their attention. “Time for another announcement.”
Elle pulled away from Andrew, settled back next to James and the smile they shared was almost too sappy. Brian looked away from it, that twist of near-jealousy turning into something closer to shame.
“Me first,” Elle said. “I mean, it’s not much of an announcement, but . . .” She turned a bright, hopeful smile on Carly. “Carls, you’re my best friend and, let’s face it, the only other person in this group who could pull off a sweetheart neckline, so babe, will you be my maid of—”
The rest of it was cut off in a squeal and flurry of pastel as Carly lunged across the table to hug Elle, very loudly accepting the role in the wedding party. Brian rescued his drink before it became a casualty. Quite apart from the lack of disposable funds, he’d limited himself to one drink tonight because he was expected at the hospital at six a.m. the following morning, so he wasn’t risking the remaining beer in his glass.
When Carly had climbed down off the table, Elle graciously gave James the floor.
“Right.” James ran a broad, thick-fingered hand through his sun-faded brown hair, then tugged awkwardly at the hem of his Rubens T-shirt. Elle rubbed his arm soothingly and he seemed to draw strength from the contact. “Right, you guys have got to know this wasn’t an easy choice to make. I mean, you’re all my best mates, and hey, you’ll all be up there with me, right? I can only have one best man, but I got two groomsmen spots open as well. So when you—”
“Dude!” Troy shoved James’s shoulder with a gentle fist. “Just say it.”
“Okay, okay! Andrew, will you be my best man?”
Brian knew he hadn’t really been in the running. Andrew had always had more in common with James than he did. They’d played sport together through high school and uni, they’d both gone to Griffith while Brian got into Bond. They’d both fallen in love with the same person . . .
Troy, however. He was clearly doing the friendship math as he looked between groom and maybe-best-man. Andrew had known James longer, minus James and Troy spent more time together now, plus Andrew just got over cancer, minus Andrew used to sex the bride. Sadly, it wasn’t enough to tip the equation in Troy’s favour. Brian patted Troy’s shoulder even as the skier mustered up a grin and congratulated Andrew.
“Thanks,” Andrew said to Troy, then turned to James. “Mate, it’s an honour, but . . .”
“No buts, man.” James shook his head. “Elle and I both want you as our best man.”
Elle gripped Andrew’s hand. “It would mean so much to us.”
Andrew just shrugged, muttered he’d think about it, then stood abruptly. “Next round’s on me.” He was gone before anyone could give him their drink order.
Silence coagulated around the table in his wake. Everyone very carefully avoided eye contact and concentrated on finishing their drinks. Then Elle turned to Brian.
“Will you . . .?” she asked hopefully.
That weird-arse jealousy thing happened again but he resisted flat out telling her it had been a shitty thing to ask of Andrew. “It’s his choice. I’m not going to convince him to do something he’s not comfortable doing.”
Elle looked like she was going to protest but James shook his head fractionally and Carly distracted her by shifting over to Andrew’s empty seat and asking about dresses.
Troy nudged James. “You got a backup best man right here.”
James thanked him with a nod and drank down the last of his beer.
Andrew returned with another tray of drinks and passed them around, setting a Coke No Sugar in front of Brian and keeping two shots and a beer for himself.
“What is that?” Brian asked as Andrew threw back one of the shots.
“Tequila.” He slammed the second one and followed it with a long drink of beer.
“Careful. You haven’t had booze in over two years.”
“Then it’s about time,” he muttered.
Over the next hour, Elle and James hammered out more wedding details with Carly and Troy’s help. Andrew was too busy mainlining alcohol to offer much advice and Brian was too concerned about Andrew’s mental state to care. When Andrew wobbled to his feet for his fifth and sixth shots, Brian got up as well.
“No way, mate. We’re going home.” He slung Andrew’s arm over his shoulder. “Guys, I’m taking this slob home. We’re still on for the weekend?”
James and Troy’s new ski stunt show was premiering on Sunday and they had free passes to go watch their friends battle it out on the water. Plans were confirmed with “hell yeahs” and well wishes given for Brian’s first week in A&E, then he was hauling a staggering Andrew down the narrow stairs and onto the street.
“I can’t believe Elle and James,” Brian grumbled as Andrew hung off his shoulders and hummed lazily. “Asking you like that.”
“Knew it was coming,” Andrew slurred.
“Yeah, but in front of everyone? They did it so you wouldn’t say no.”
“I wanna say no.”
“So you fucking should. I mean, you used to date her, and he’s the friend who dated your ex behind your back for a year before telling anyone.”
“Yeah.” Andrew pulled Brian closer and snorted against his cheek. “Not gonna though.”
“You should,” Brian reiterated firmly, digging in his pocket for his keys while Andrew blew hot breath on his neck. “Dude, either suck something or back off.”
Andrew staggered back and leaned against the side of Brian’s car. “Sorry.”
Brian shrugged and unlocked the passenger door. Sometimes he wished for a car with central locking, but mostly, he was insanely proud of his car.
The 1987 Jaguar XJ-S HE coupe had been his granddad’s, sitting in mothballs in his dad’s garage for fifteen years after granddad passed. The last thing Brian had expected was to find the clunky old car fully restored and sitting in his driveway his first day as an intern. Like calling himself a doctor, there were days when he couldn’t believe he got to say, “I drive a Jag.” Sadly, neither the line nor the car itself had been as magnificently attractive to the opposite sex as he’d hoped.
“Ella Bella’s gonna want this as her bridal car,” Andrew predicted gravely, running a hand over the pearlescent paint.
“Yeah. Come on, get in. I have to get to bed.”
Andrew nodded but didn’t move. “I should do it. I’m gonna do it.”