“Have you been to many weddings?” I asked, suddenly realizing that I didn’t know.
We’d briefly talked about being involved in the wedding party, but the conversation hadn’t addressed just attending weddings. There was a period in my life where it felt like someone was getting married every second month. I had no idea if that was the same for Sam. We lived in such different places, such different lives.
“I’ve been to a few,” Sam answered, not having any idea of all the thoughts spinning through my head. “The speeches have been... fine? I think I end up worrying so much that someone will mess up that I almost don’t hear the speeches,” he admitted. “Public speaking is stressful even when it’s not me doing it.”
Without pausing to think, I reached forward and rested my hand on Sam’s forearm. His skin was so smooth and warm, making my breath catch in my throat as heat poured through me. My grip tightened for an instant, then relaxed. Snatching my hand back seemed like it would just draw attention. Instead, I awkwardly patted Sam’s arm.
“You’ll be fine,” I promised. It was true, there was no doubt in my mind about that. But Sam still looked concerned. “It’s a lot of pressure,” I agreed. Knowing Sam as well as I did - or as well as I once had - I knew that he wanted to get it right for Pat. “But you’ve got time to practice. We’ll write a great speech together, and you can say it to yourself every night, until it feels natural.”
It was what I had done before my bar exams.
“So, what do you want to say about Pat?” I asked. “What kind of person do you want to tell people he is?” We could start there.
Sam’s eyes lingered on my hand. When I finally pulled it back, he shook his head before I could figure out what he was thinking. “Thanks, Helena,” he said, a gentle smile crossing his lips. “I knew you’d be the best person to come to about this.” That made my heart skip a beat. Thinking that Sam chose me over other options.
Pausing, Sam reached to take a sip of the wine. He seemed almost surprised by the taste. “This is nice,” he informed me absentmindedly. “Well, Pat is a great person, I want to say that. When we were kids, he always cried at things. This was before you and I met, like maybe when he was five? He’d cry at the wind blowing too hard, at mom making him tea, at dad being five minutes late from work. I used to think it was because he was just whiny, but now I see that it was...”
There was another pause. I could feel my anticipation build. This wasn’t something Sam had ever said before. It very well might have been because he hadn’t known he thought this.
“The wind sometimes ripped the branches from the trees in the garden and it made mom sad. I didn’t like tea but whenever Pat had to have some, I had to have some. Dad being late from work meant that we didn’t get as much time to hang out with him. I think Pat cried because he worried about other people,” Sam explained. “That’s... that’s just Pat, you know? He cares so much for everyone else.”
Nodding, I let my pen fly across my paper, barely even needing to look down as I took note of the different examples Sam had given. “Those are sweet memories,” I said, smiling. “I think they’ll make people laugh a little and make people smile. And Pat won’t be embarrassed.” It was hard to be truly embarrassed about things that had happened when you were as little as five.
I wondered if this was an aspect of Pat’s past that Charlotte even knew about. Part of me hoped not. I wanted Sam to be the one to tell her, to share these precious memories with her on her wedding day.
“Do you have examples of how he’s still like that now?” I asked. “Without the crying.”
“Oh, without the crying? I don’t know, I’ll have to think,” Sam joked, making me grin back at him. He nodded. “Yeah. I mean, Pat’s always calling me to check in. He probably calls me more than mom does. He also comes out to Salt Lake at least once a season so he can watch me play and we can hang out.”
The way Sam smiled when he was talking about it made it impossible not to smile back. Sam and Pat had always gotten on well enough, but Pat had seemed so much younger back when Sam and I had been together. Five years was a much bigger age gap when you were eighteen and the other person was thirteen.
Now, Pat was an adult just like we were. An adult marrying my best friend, no less!
“Pat’s just a caring person. I don’t think he’d be building Charlotte a house if he wasn’t,” Sam commented.
With a giggle, I nodded. “Yeah, but you can’t use that as your example at their wedding - it’s a secret,” I teased. We both knew that Charlotte knew about the house. Everyone knew about the house - even my dad, who paid about as much attention to the gossip mill as he did to the sports section of the newspaper.
“So, brothers hanging out together. That’s a good topic to talk about,” I agreed, adding it to my notes. “You probably want to say something about Pat meeting Charlotte?” Frowning, I realized that Sam hadn’t been here when Pat and Charlotte had
