The Best Man's Mistake
"He's the best man at his brother's wedding. She's the maid of honor—Somali, stunning, and off-limits because she's his brother's wife's best friend. One dance leads to a hotel room, and suddenly the wedding party has a secret that could ruin everything."
Rule number one: don't sleep with the maid of honor.
It's in every best man handbook. It causes drama. It complicates friendships. It turns beautiful weddings into awkward nightmares.
I know the rule.
I break it anyway.
Her name is Yasmin.
Best friend of my new sister-in-law. We've been circling each other all day—through the ceremony, the photos, the speeches. Every time I look up, she's looking at me.
"Stop staring," my brother whispers during the first dance.
"I'm not staring."
"You're definitely staring." He grins. "She's off-limits, you know."
"I know."
"Good. Because Halima would kill you. And then kill me for being your brother."
"I'm not going to do anything."
Famous last words.
The reception winds down.
Most guests have left. The bride and groom disappeared an hour ago. But Yasmin is still at the bar, alone, nursing a drink.
I should go to my room.
I go to her instead.
"Best man." She raises her glass. "Shouldn't you be doing shots with the groomsmen?"
"They passed out an hour ago." I sit next to her. "Shouldn't you be guarding the bridal suite?"
"Halima kicked me out." She laughs. "Said she didn't need a chaperone anymore."
"So you're free?"
"Free as the wedding budget allows." She looks at me. "Why? Are you offering something?"
I'm offering a mistake.
We both know it. But she follows me to my room anyway, and I close the door on every rule I've ever had.
"This is a bad idea," she says.
"Terrible idea."
"Halima will kill us."
"She'll kill me first." I pull her closer. "You'll have time to run."
She laughs against my mouth.
Then she stops laughing.
We don't talk about tomorrow.
About the brunch where we'll sit across from each other pretending nothing happened. About the secret we'll carry into every family gathering for the rest of our lives.
Tonight, there's only this.
"Jamal—"
"Tell me to stop—"
"Don't you dare."
I undress her between the bed and the door. Her bridesmaid dress pools at her feet—deep purple, chosen to complement the bride. Now it's just an obstacle.
"You're beautiful—"
"You're trouble—"
"Same thing."
I take my time.
The wedding was rushed—ceremony, photos, speeches, everything on a schedule. This is different. This has no schedule.
"Jamal—please—"
"Patience." I kiss down her body. "We've been waiting all day."
"I've been waiting longer than that."
"How long?"
"Since the rehearsal dinner." She pulls my face up to hers. "When you caught me watching."
"I caught you?"
"You thought you caught me." She grins. "I wanted to be caught."
I taste her on hotel sheets.
The same hotel where my brother just married her best friend. The same hotel where everything proper is happening floors above us.
"Yes—there—"
I work her with my tongue until she's shaking, until she forgets about rules and friendships and everything except this.
"I'm going to—"
"Good." I add my fingers. "Let go, Yasmin."
She shatters.
Before she's recovered, I'm inside her.
"Finally—" she gasps.
"Finally what?"
"Finally something good at a wedding."
I laugh despite myself. Then her legs wrap around me, and laughter becomes something else.
"Jamal—yes—"
I move inside her while the reception music still plays faintly from somewhere. While my brother is upstairs with his new wife. While we build a secret neither of us planned.
"Faster—"
I give her faster.
"Yes—yes—I'm—"
"With me—"
We come together.
Fall into the ruined sheets.
Breathe.
"We can't tell anyone," she says.
"I know."
"This was a one-time thing."
"Of course."
"We'll pretend it never happened."
"Definitely."
She rolls to face me. "You don't believe any of that, do you?"
"Not a word." I trace her jaw. "When can I see you again?"
"After the brunch. After everyone leaves."
"And then?"
"Then we figure out how to do this without destroying everything."
We figure it out.
Carefully. Secretly. A relationship built in margins and shadows.
Until it can't be hidden anymore.
"You're seeing someone," Halima accuses me at a family dinner. "You have that look."
"What look?"
"The same look you had at my wedding." She narrows her eyes. "When you kept staring at—"
Her gaze drifts to Yasmin.
Yasmin's face goes red.
The table goes silent.
"Since the wedding?" Halima whispers later.
"Since the wedding."
"Six months. You've been hiding this for six months."
"I didn't want to cause drama."
"You're dating my best friend!" She throws her hands up. "How is that not drama?"
"Does it help that I love her?"
Halima stops. "What?"
"I love her." I look across the room where Yasmin is talking to my brother. "I've loved her since that night. Maybe before."
Halima is quiet for a long moment.
"If you hurt her, I'll kill you."
"I know."
"And you'll be at every family event together. Forever."
"I know."
"And—" She sighs. "And I'm actually happy for you. Both of you." She punches my arm. "But you owed me the truth."
"I owed Yasmin the time to be ready."
"Is she ready now?"
Yasmin looks up. Catches my eye. Smiles.
"I think we both are."
We marry two years later.
Same hotel as my brother's wedding. Same people in the crowd.
"You couldn't pick anywhere else?" my brother teases.
"This is where it started." I look at Yasmin, radiant in white. "This is where it should continue."
"That's disgustingly romantic."
"I learned from the best." I clap his shoulder. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a bride to kiss."
The best man becomes the groom.
And the mistake becomes the best thing I ever did.