The artist?!

“The artist?!”

“Uh-huh. Yeah, the artist I’ve been dating named Chelsea. Remember? She’s best friends with your wife.”

“I know who we’re talking about. I just can’t believe we’re talking about it! Are you serious, dude? You’re getting married?”

What kind of girl wants to marry a guy who knows the best place to go and get a spray tan? Who even wants to spend time with that guy besides me? Aiden was my best friend, practically the brother I never had. And now Ms. Bob Ross wants to come in and take away my one stable relationship? Not without a fight, people.

“Yeah, we are. And I’m really excited about it so don’t say anything negative, Ash. Do not!”

“Negative?”

“That’s right. I know you. And I know that right now you’re thinking this means you have to compete with her. But you don’t. Because there’s always going to be room for you in my life.”

“I love that you just became my suburban dad right there, you know? Who’s totally leaving my mom for the secretary at his used car lot and giving 8 year-old me the speech he practiced on how the divorce isn’t my fault. Bullshit, dude.”

“Ashley…”

“No, no, no. So like, all of a sudden you like this chick, huh? She’s the one?”

“Ashley…”

“No, that’s great. I’m thrilled for you. I really am. I hope you and Frida have a wonderful fucking existence together painting dolphins and butterflies or whatever the fuck you two do!” I yelled, standing up so I could pace the room properly.

“Ashley…”

“No, I’m serious. You don’t think I’m serious? Because I’m completely fucking serious!”

“Why are you screaming?”

“Because I can! Because this isn’t the goddamn library!”

“Ash, can I talk to you…maybe?” Spencer asked, catching my arm as I paced beside her.

“Spencer, I’m kind of in the middle of…”

But as usual, she disregarded my ranting and pulled me into the kitchen.

“We’ll be back!” she called once I was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for an explanation.

“What’s up?” I asked, casually.