We're in a bar celebrating with friends. He's my friend now, too. Well, we've only been just friends. Friends who kiss, sleep together, and hold hands. It's four days before my wedding. I am at the bar ordering a drink for my fiance. He's ordering too even though he probably shouldn't be. That was always his problem. He smells of Jameson and cigarettes. He leans over and whispers. "Why didn't I marry you. I'm sorry. So sorry." I have tears in my eyes. He had eleven years to say that, and he chooses this moment. He didn't come to the ceremony. I don't think he could watch.