In hindsight, the solution was obvious. It always was, that was the glory of hindsight. And it wasn't so bad when you didn't have someone crowing at you, not quite saying "I told you so" but thinking it very loudly indeed.
She wasn't sure why she put up with him. Twenty-something years they'd been friends. You got less for murder (she'd thought about it - not for long, but it had still crossed her mind). He was cocky and insufferable, and the best friend she'd ever had.
Very irritating, the way these things seemed to dovetail together so neatly.
They'd met in primary school, become best friends - the kind that fight and make up, the kind that are forever at loggerheads, more rivals than friends, thick as thieves. The pattern had continued through to high school, college - even during university.
It made sense that she'd be his best man at the wedding - hilarious and fitting, with his brother glowering at her in the wings (who needed a brother, he had her).
It was only when he leaned over and said very softly to her that he was the luckiest man alive, watching his bride walk down the aisle (his quiet, sweet, demure bride, who didn't argue) that she realised just what was happening, that she realised there was a problem in the first place.
He had never told her so.
But she wished he had.
OH! Wait... so... no! Am I right?
Explain to me what you mean and I'll tell you :3 (slow on the uptake today, alas)
Basically, yeah - I kinda like the idea that he never told her that she loved him, since she failed to notice it...then again, the story I was writing at the beginning of the six minutes and the one I ended up with are two very different beasts...!
First of all, I like their relationship better than the groom + bride. Second of all, what had he never told her? Did she just realize she should object to the wedding? (I've always wanted someone to.)
Ladygirl of a British persuasion; sometimes I actually write stories that aren't depressing (but not very often)
I write for the http://jupiter-palladium.com, which is a webcomic about superheroes. Interesting ones. Cute ones, too. Which is nice. (It's cheerier than most things I write. That's where the happy goes, guys.)
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In hindsight, the solution was obvious.