The Best Man Wins

"Michael, I love her," Mac said, trying to explain to me for thirteenth time why he was marrying my ex.

"What's love got to do with it?" Jules sang from the back of the van, until Mac gave him the Stare Of Doom in the rearview.

I scrunched further down in the passenger's seat, pressed my face against the glass of the window. Ventura highway sped by, for probably the fifteenth time since we'd become a touring band.

"Mike?"

I didn't turn around.

"I need you to be okay with this."

Jules cracked open a soda and reached up front to press it cold against my arm. I jumped slightly, but was grateful for the gestue as my mouth felt dry as cotton. I took the soda and had a long swig. "I'm fine," I muttered around the rim.

"You're not fine," Jules said from where he'd settled back into his place.

"You stay out of this," I snapped. I caught him flipping me off in the side view's reflection, so I shifted the other way to look at Mac. His face was set in a line of worry that made me regret calling him a girl-stealing-douchenugget the other night when I was wasted. "I'm fine," I repeated. "It's okay. It's not like.. hell, Jenny and I've been broke up long enough, right?" Three years without her had seemed an eterinity- and now it would stretch out into a lifetime of moments like this one. Moments where I felt my heart would sink straight through my toes from the hollow weight of loneliness.

"You're sure?" Mac asked, stealing a glance at me before turning down our exit.

"Yes," I lied.

"Good.. because I wanted to ask you a favor."

I took another sip of the soda and let that pass for a reply.

"Jenny and I have talked it over - and we both agreed. We'd like for you to be our best man."

"Oh snap," Jules called. I wanted to reach back there and slug him. My hands tightened around the can.

"Sure," I managed to choke out. "I'd be honored."