Well Played
her marrying her college sweetheart and moving to Colorado. Thanks to the internet and social media we’d stayed in each other’s lives, as much as we could, by clicking “like” on photos and tossing down witty comments. But that wasn’t really “bestie” status anymore, was it? I’d become nothing more than a Facebook friend with my best friend. That . . . didn’t feel good.Enough. Time to go out.
I fastened the dragonfly necklace around my neck—the one bit of Faire I decided to keep as part of my daily life. All ready to go now, I took a selfie and put it up on Instagram: Someone told me recently that dragonflies mean change. So here I go doing something different tonight! JK I’m going to Jackson’s as per usual. #FridayNight
A couple likes popped up pretty quickly, but I examined the pic with a critical eye. My roots were due for a touch-up: the brown was really coming in, almost as dark as my eyes. My eyebrows made it clear that I wasn’t a natural blonde, but there was no need to be this blatant about it. The necklace looked nice, though, and so did my smile. I’d always been known for my smile, wide and open and happy, first in high school and then later in college. It was a part of me, something I wore like a favorite pair of jeans. Even though sometimes it felt as false as a push-up bra. Tonight it felt especially padded, but I kept it on anyway. That was the Stacey everyone wanted to see, after all. Ennui-filled Stacey was no fun, so I left her at home.
Jackson’s was our local dive bar/hangout, the only real hangout in Willow Creek, actually, so I was guaranteed to see some friends there. Sure enough, I found myself in a booth with my Ren Faire compatriots, celebrating the end of another successful season.
“Fine.” Simon raised a bottle of beer to his lips. “I’ll admit it. Shortening the season from six weeks to four was a good idea.”
“Told you.” Emily nestled into his side and took a smug swig of her own beer. “Fewer man-hours are required, we saved money on the acts, and that cash goes right back in our pockets for next year. That’s what it’s all about, remember?”
His brows drew together. “I’ve been doing this Faire since day one. I think I know what it’s all about.”
I caught my breath. This was a touchy subject. Simon Graham had started this Faire over a decade ago with his older brother, Sean. We’d lost Sean to cancer a few years back, and ever since then Simon had grown more and more protective of everything having to do with Faire. Emily had shaken him out of that when they met last year. And while he’d finally been a little more open to change this year, to call Simon a micromanager was an understatement.
So my eyes darted from Simon over to Mitch Malone sitting next to me, who met my look and answered it with a roll of his eyes. Mitch had never had the patience for Simon and his darker moods, even when we were kids. He and Simon weren’t the closest of friends, for all that they’d been working together for years to put on this Faire. In fact, the four of us represented most of the Faire’s organizational committee.
I decided to venture a reply. “I think what Emily meant was—”
But Emily came to her own defense, lightly whacking Simon on the chest with the back of her hand before grinning at me. “He knows exactly what I meant.”
“Wait a second.” I put down my wineglass—I was the only one at the table not drinking beer, what a rebel—and reached across the booth for Emily’s hand. When she’d smacked Simon, the light had flashed off a diamond ring I’d never seen her wear before. A diamond ring on her left hand. “What the hell is this?”
My voice came out a little shriller than I’d intended, and more than a few heads turned at the sound of me yelling at Emily. But I didn’t care. I glared at her first, then Simon. I probably shouldn’t glare at the thought of two of my closest friends getting engaged, but too bad. “Is this what I think it is?”
Emily’s only reply was a giggle, and Simon’s stern expression melted into a smile as he looked at Emily’s hand in mine. “It is,” he replied, and his smile widened, something I didn’t think was physically possible. Simon didn’t smile like that when he wasn’t a pirate. “Emily agreed to marry me.”
I squealed, and only the fact that I was sitting on the inside of the booth kept me from running around to hug them both. Launching myself across the table crossed my mind, but I managed to restrain myself.
“Well, hot damn! That’s great, you two!” Mitch put down his beer bottle and stretched his arm across the table, offering Simon a fist bump. Simon was not a fist-bump guy, but he returned the gesture anyway.
Me, I stayed on topic. “When did this happen?” I examined her ring. It was a tidy, perfect diamond, nothing showy. Much like the man who had given it to her.
“Um . . .” Emily chewed on her bottom lip. “Monday afternoon.”
“Monday?!” My response was practically a shriek. “That was four days ago!” I dropped her hand and sat back in the booth. “Were you planning on telling anyone?” It was inconvenient that I was so happy, because I really wanted to be mad at her for keeping this news from me. From all of us.
“Of course!” Emily looked chastened. “We were going to tell y’all tonight, actually. We . . . well . . .” She looked up at Simon, and they did that thing that couples do: communicating without words, just via facial expressions and a raised eyebrow. They looked married already.
“We were hoping we could ask the both of you for a huge favor.” Simon cleared his throat, and Emily picked up on his train