Two Best Men

TWO BEST MEN A NOVEL JUNE HARDING Copyright © 2023, June Harding All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. This is a fictional work, and any similarities to names, places, or events is purely coincidental. Cover art by BooksAndMoods.com Formatting by BooksAndMoods.com Edited by Christine Tourigny ISBN: 978-1-7781736-3-9 CONTENTS Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Epilogue Acknowledgments More books by June Harding PROLOGUE PRESENT CAMERON The screaming rain was pelting against the hotel lobby window, obscuring my view of the parking lot. A sudden burst of lightning etched across the sky, giving me a split second glimpse of the palm trees lining the freeway, bent nearly in half in the torrid winds. I took another sip of my scotch, allowing the smooth burn to melt away some of my nerves. The storm was worse than predicted, but all the weather networks agreed; tomorrow was going to be clear and sunny. I smirked to myself, actually putting stock in something a weather man said. Only weathermen and politicians could stand on TV spouting lies, and still keep their jobs. But I’d have to have faith that tomorrow would be beautiful, and my best friend’s wedding would be everything he deserved. “Cam!” a panicked voice said behind me. Rhett was jogging down the hotel hallway looking a little worse for wear. The suit jacket and the tie were long gone, and his dress shirt was completely untucked. “Cam, you left your phone on the table.” He had it stretched out to me, and there’s a look on his face, a panicked, shocked expression. I immediately tensed. “Your phone keeps going off, and, well…look.” I took the phone from him, scrolling down the missed calls and messages. “Oh, fuck.” “Yeah,” he whispered. “Oh, fuck is right.” CHAPTER 1 POPPING THE QUESTION CAMERON Three months earlier I pulled up in front of Mike’s house half an hour late and grabbed the six-pack sitting in the passenger seat as I hoofed it to his front door. I hated being late, even if it’s just to hang out with the guys. We’d had a long-standing poker night on the first Friday of every month, and they wouldn’t have dealt until I was there. I rang the bell, and waited impatiently for someone to answer. In our college days, I would have just burst in and made my way down to the basement. But when Mike’s girlfriend Melody moved in two years ago, the ‘guys’ vibe at the house made a quick about-face and now we rang doorbells. “Hi Cameron,” Melody smiled as she opened the door. There was something about her, an extra little pink in her cheeks as she greeted me tonight. “Hi Mel.” I planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Beer?” “Nah, I’m working on a Chardonnay. Good luck,” She chipped, as she headed upstairs. I made my way towards the basement. “Don’t know why you’d want me to drain your boyfriend’s wallet, but thank you!” I headed down the lopsided wooden stairs into the basement. Mike’s grandmother had left him the house when she passed away, and back in college we had the run of the place. But since he started dating Melody, the house started to look more like a home. There was a drawer in the kitchen just for dish towels now, and plants all around the house. Though Mike’s space was now confined to the basement, even that had drastic improvements. She convinced him to put in carpeting and proper lighting, and instead of the rickety folding table we used to play on, she’d bought him a real poker table for his birthday last year. Things in the house had changed for the better, and Melody was definitely the reason. The basement smelled like wings and beer as I descended the steps, and I heard boisterous laughter over the grungy punk music we used to listen to twenty years ago. “Hey, you made it!” Jesse shouted. I shot him a glare, not looking to come across any of his smartass remarks tonight. “Sorry guys, had a really picky client and I just wanted to finish his fucking project.” I ran a hand over the stubble lining my chin. It had been a long week. “No worries, grab a seat,” Mike offered, ever the diplomatic one. I set one of my beers on the table and popped the rest in the mini fridge. I took my spot between Jesse and Shaan, and fished out a ten dollar bill from my wallet. Shaan held out the boob mug, a hideous mug with enormous tits we’d been using to collect the cash in at the beginning of each game. No one really knows where it came from, but the boob mug was sacred to us. I stuffed my bill into the mug and Shaan set it aside as Mike started to deal. We shot the shit like it was any other Friday night, talking about work, or Shaan telling us the latest about his kids. He was the only one that had taken that plunge, and while the idea of being responsible for a whole human being terrified me to my core, Shaan absolutely adored being a Dad. Pretty-boy Jesse on the other hand, probably couldn’t keep a hamster alive. As we played, the first two hands went down pretty normally, but by the third, I started getting suspicious, and by the fifth I knew something was downright wrong. “Mike,” I barked as Jesse scooped the stack of