He snapped his wrist again and whipped the second photo at the floor. Picking up another, he flung them one by one to the ground with each staccato word he spoke.
“Not.” Toss.
“My.” Toss.
“Girl.” Toss.
“Or.” Toss
“My.” Toss.
“Best.” Toss.
“Friend.” Toss.
There were three photos left on the counter. He picked one up and waved it around.
“Then I got to this one. A photo of my best friend with a shit ton of snow in the background. It hasn’t snowed more than a few flurries in New York this year, at least that I’m aware of. But again, I assumed I must be wrong. There had to be some big pile of snow in a parking lot somewhere that I’m not remembering.” Brady flicked his wrist and added the image to the pile on the floor.
“Then I came to this one.” He held up the second-to-last photo from the counter and showed it to me before staring down at it himself. “Here’s my buddy wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and he’s standing in front of what looks like some sort of southern mansion or something.” Brady turned the photo to show it to me again. “This doesn’t look like New York City, does it, Hazel?”
I shook my head.
Brady tossed it to the floor and picked up the last photo. “But even then, after a dozen pictures staring me straight in the face, I still refused to believe it. There had to be some logical explanation as to why my girl would have all of these pictures of my best friend in her camera from what seemed like places that are not New York. So I kept going, in oblivious denial, until I got to this one.”
The photo was a selfie I’d taken of Matteo and me on the day before we left New Orleans. I was smiling broadly for the camera, and Matteo had his lips pressed to my cheek.
“Tell me, Hazel. How was I going to explain this one to myself?” He paused and laughed. “I’m seriously such a dumb fuck. A part of me was still holding on to hope that there was some reasonable explanation for all of this. It wasn’t until I saw you walk in the front door with guilt written all over your face that I actually knew.” Brady walked over to my suitcase and lifted the airline’s luggage tag, which I hadn’t thought to detach before wheeling it inside.
“SEA? If I’m not mistaken, that’s the airport code for Seattle.” His voice cracked as he continued, “How was your trip to fuck my best friend, Hazel?”
Tears streamed down my face. “Brady…” I shook my head. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”
He tossed the last photo onto the floor, and his shoulders slumped. His anger seemed to dissipate into sadness, and that broke my heart. I took a few steps toward him and reached out, but Brady held his hands up and stepped back.
“Don’t. Don’t touch me.”
I shook my head. “We didn’t mean for this to happen, Brady.”
“How long? How long have you been screwing my best friend?”
I looked down. “We met when I went to Vail.”
He scoffed. “That’s perfect. Did you fuck him in the honeymoon suite I’d booked us?”
I shook my head again. “That’s not how it was. You have to believe me.”
“Oh I do, do I? Why is that? Because you’ve been so honest with me lately? I spent time with the two of you together. You guys must’ve had a good laugh at my expense. What a dope he is for not catching on.”
“Brady, I swear, we randomly met in Vail at a hotel, and neither of us had a clue that we had a connection to each other. We had absolutely no idea until Matteo walked in the door at that bar you and I met at for a drink a few weeks ago.”
“Yeah, that sounds believable. The two of you meet in Vail, where you were both supposed to be for our wedding, and with totally common names like Hazel and Matteo, and it never dawned on either of you.”
“We…we weren’t using our real names.”
Brady’s eyebrows jumped. “Oh! Right. Everything makes a lot of sense now. Thanks for filling me in. I understand completely how that could happen. It’s crystal clear.”
The fact that Matteo and I had used fake names for two full weeks, and we’d never figured out the reason we were both in Vail, were the same reasons it really did seem ludicrous right about now. The story sounded so far-fetched, it was almost unbelievable to me.
Brady and I stood in silence for a long time. He stared at the ground, at the pictures of Matteo spread all over the floor, and shook his head.
When he looked up, his eyes were rimmed with tears. “Do you love him?”