Married to my Dad’s Best Friend

I sigh, zip up my pants and wash my hands. Looking in the mirror, I don’t recognize myself. There’s something agonized about my expression. Am I really falling for this girl?

I adjust my tie and head out of the bathroom. I need to get back to work. Maybe if I can bury myself in work, I can get my focus back and stop thinking about Savanna for longer than five minutes.

As I walk back into my office, I notice someone sitting outside by the reception desk. I know I didn’t have any appointments for the day. I made sure of it so there would be plenty of time for Savanna to pick out her ring.

When I get closer, I realize it’s Stan. Shit. Does Savanna know her dad is here? She must have broken the news to him about the new job. My shoulders tense when I see my former best friend. He stands when our eyes meet. As I leave my office to greet him, he smooths his suit jacket and adjusts his cuffs. I reach out to shake his hand. We wear matching neutral expressions. Both the seasoned poker players that we need to be in court. It works well in this situation, too.

He reaches his hand out as well, but I’m not sure yet if he plans to shake my hand with it or punch me. I’m not sure he knows what he’s planning either at first. In the end, he shakes my hand, but with a grip firmer than necessary.

“I hear my daughter is working for you,” he says. His jaw clenches at the end of his words.

He cuts right to the point. Stan has never been the type to dance around an issue. It’s what makes him such a good lawyer.

“It’s true,” I say.

Stan takes a step back. There’s a quiet unease in the way he starts to pace the floor.

“My wife and I would like to invite you over for dinner,” he says.

Not Rina, but his wife, as if we haven’t known each other most of our lives. Like he hasn’t been my best friend since college.

The invitation is so sudden and out of nowhere, I find myself stammering. “I don’t know if my schedule—”

He cuts me off with a sigh. “Rina asked me to invite you. She misses you.” He hesitates. “I do too. Things ended poorly all those years ago.”

It’s my turn to cut him off. He’s clearly uncomfortable opening up. This is the first time the olive branch has been extended between us since we parted ways that day he and Rina asked me not to come around anymore.

I smile and say, “I’d love to come to dinner. Forget what happened in the past. It’s not important.”

Stan seems relieved. He steps forward with his arms extended and we hug briefly.

He tells me the time and date for dinner before he leaves my waiting room and I agree to be there. I wonder if Savanna will be at that dinner as well, but I don’t ask.

I watch as Stan walks toward Savanna’s office. The other offices in the suite are partitioned by glass, so I see everything. I watch her pale when she sees her dad. She’s doing everything she can to hide the ring on her hand. I can tell she’s freaked out. So am I. How would we even start to explain that situation? I want to know what Stan is saying because it’s impossible to read his lips from where I’m standing.

When Stan leaves, Savanna looks over at me like she could feel me watching her. She stands, all elegance and grace, even though I can tell she’s shaken. She walks out to meet me at reception.

“That was intense,” she says

“What did he say?”

“Not much, really. Which surprises the hell out of me. He just complimented my office and said he was proud of me for working so hard.”

My whole body sighs with relief. At least he didn’t notice the ring.

I take Savanna by the hand and go back to my office with its solid wood walls and plenty of privacy in case her dad shows up again. I close the door and immediately wrap my arms around her, slipping my hand in hers. I can feel the shape of the ring on her finger. She stops shaking the moment I press her body against mine.

“Everything is going to be fine,” I assure her.

We decide to go to lunch at a deli down the street so we can go over the details of the marriage before Mr. Sapline arrives. We need to make this relationship believable. He needs to have no doubts that we are husband and wife.

That’s how the conversation starts at first. It’s very formal, with bullet points and underlined words. Then I find myself forgetting to take notes and just enjoying all the little bits of information I learn about her. Her likes and dislikes. I learn that her favorite drink is a Long Island iced tea, her favorite food comes from a truck and is served on a stick. The furthest place she’s ever traveled is the Oregon coast. She likes buying makeup but doesn’t wear much of it. She loves dogs despite being allergic to them, and she’s been known to snuggle and pet random dogs on the street even though she breaks into hives moments later. “For the right dog,” she tells me, a brilliant smile breaking across her face, “it’s worth a dose of Benadryl.”