I laughed. “Well. That pretty much covers it.”
“Sure. Except…” His gaze narrowed on me. “You said holiday attire. Formal, yes. But that dress is like…” He shook his head, looking thoroughly confused. And in awe. “Are we going to be on TV or something?”
He had a natural way of cutting the tension. I adored that. Yet I still had a very uncomfortable conversation with him ahead of me.
“Kyle, there’s something I didn’t tell you about this little get-together.”
I took his hand and dragged him into Dane’s office, closing the door behind us.
“I know this is going to take you by surprise”—hit him like a ton of bricks was more like it—“but this evening is incredibly special to me.”
“Ari.” He eyed me skeptically. “What the hell is going on?”
“Don’t freak, okay. I know what I’m doing. And I know this is going to throw you for a huge loop, but I needed you to be here tonight. As my best friend. As my best … man.”
I held my breath as he gaped.
Many, many seconds inched by. Before I passed out from lack of oxygen, I pulled in a gulp of air, then blurted, “Say something!”
He seemed to try to speak. He just wasn’t successful at it.
I told him, “I understand this is a shock. But Dane proposed last night and so here we all are—”
“Last night?” he suddenly demanded, coming around quickly. “As in … last night?” He shook his head, started to do some pacing of his own.
I’d never seen so much tension from so many people over an impending marriage. Even the Delfinos hadn’t worn out the rug when they’d learned twenty-year-old Meg was pregnant and her father, Anthony Delfino, had issued the shotgun-wedding scenario to Sean.
“Take a few deep breaths,” I said. “You’ll feel better.”
He halted abruptly, spun around, and glared at me. “Are you out of your mind?”
“First … don’t yell at me on my wedding day. Second … no, I am not.” I grabbed his hand again and said, “I invited you here for a reason. There are only a few people who will know about this, and I want you to be one of them. Dane approved—”
“Oh, he approved, did he? As if you need his permission—”
“He knows you will keep our secret,” I insisted.
Ripping his hand from mine, Kyle threw his arms up in the air and, in an exasperated voice, asked, “Aren’t you tired yet of all the secrecy, Ari? What is it about him that makes you think it’s okay to keep everything about your relationship under wraps? Normal people don’t do that, you know?”
I remained calm, because he deserved to have this outburst. I’d done favors for Kyle, such as getting him the job at the Lux. He’d done favors for me, like staying with me after I’d been roughed up by Vale.
Kyle and I truly did banter like siblings, even though he took it in a different light—more of a flirtation. I’d always been clear on my intentions. He knew Dane was it for me. End of story.
And Kyle had chosen to stay friends, to stay my closest friend. As much as I’d suffer if he walked away, the choice had always been—and always would be—up to him.
“I want you here,” I said. “It means the world to me. If you don’t want to be on my side with this, I’ll totally understand. But I always fight for you, Kyle. Because that’s what best friends do.”
He grunted. “Fuck it all, Ari. I swear, I will never figure out what the hell goes on inside your head.”
His pacing resumed. I knew this would be difficult for him to reconcile. And he’d never, ever get a real handle on it. Not as long as he held out hope that I might someday “come to my senses” and choose him instead.
That would never happen. I knew exactly what I wanted—who I wanted.
“Kyle, I’m getting married whether you stick around or not. Though I’d really prefer that you stay.”
He glowered at me.
I gave him a smile. Crooked a suggestive brow at him, and said, “There’s food and champagne.…” Hoping to tempt him.