Table for Two Read Online Free PDF

asks, without looking up from building his
pepperoni tower. “Dude, forget it. That’s not happening for like, a very long
time.”
    Sometimes I wonder if Martin and
Henry watched too much Beavis
and Butthead (or Ren and Stimpy, or The Itchy and Scratchy Show— or any other idiotic onscreen duo you can come up
with) as kids. But then I realize that’s giving television too much credit.
    “We’re not letting this wedding
happen,” I tell them.
    “We’re not?” Martin takes the
pizza crust and tries to stuff it into his mouth. Horizontally.
    “We’re not,” I repeat firmly.
    “Carl, I really think it’s about
time you got over Blake,” Henry says, laughing at a joke that has been running
since we were in high school. “You’ll be fine. There are lots of other boys out
there.”
    “Or girls,” Martin pipes in. “I
bet you could go back to liking girls if you only set your mind to it. Remember
Tin from grade school? You used to have the biggest crush on her. She had
impressive boom-boom-pows when everyone else had tiny twelve-year-old...”
    “Cut it out,” I tell them. For the
record, I have a lovely girlfriend, Kim, and we’ve been together for seven
years. She is perfect. We are perfect. And I want nothing
but this kind of perfection for my friends. “Blake has been my best friend
since prep, and I can’t just sit around and watch him make the biggest mistake
of his life.”
    “Oooh, biggest mistake of his
life,” Henry mimics me. “How dramatic. I told you to quit all this
freelance-wedding-photography-apprenticeship-whatever nonsense. It’s making you
too girly.”
    “Not that you weren’t girly
before,” Martin clarifies. I scowl at him, and he adds, “Not that it’s a bad
thing.” And then he shakes his head, like he’s the one who’s exasperated with
me. “Carl, just let him do what he wants to do. He’s a big guy.”
    “Literally,” Henry says. Blake is
almost six feet tall, and has towered over all of us for as long as we can
remember.
    “I can’t just let him do what he
wants to do,” I say. “I need to step in. We need to step in. He’s counting on
us.” I am aware that I sound like I’m in a Mighty Ducks movie.
    Martin and Henry look at each
other, their noses wrinkling identically in confused hesitation. “No, thanks,”
Henry decides. “We’ll stay out of this.”
    “Yes,” Martin agrees. “It’s none
of our beeswax. None of yours either, actually.” He’s been saying beeswax since he was eight, and he still seems to find it
funny.
    I stand up. “Okay. Suit yourself.”
    “Let me get mine dry-cleaned,”
Henry says.
    “Let me go find my tie,” Martin
says.
    “What?”
    Henry grins, looking terribly
pleased with himself. “You said, suit yourself . So I said, let
me get mine dry-cleaned , and Martin
said, let me
go find —”
    “Never mind,” I cut him off,
wishing I hadn’t asked. “Don’t blame me if Blake ends up miserable.”
    “Of course we won’t,” Martin
replies. “We’ll blame Blake.”
    “He’s
responsible for his own misery,” Henry says.
    “That’s very comforting,” I tell
them, stuffing my keys and my phone into my pocket. “I have to go. Kim’s
waiting for me at her place. I need to see her before I face Blake and Vicky
tonight. She promised to distract me, at least for a few hours.”
    “Sexy time!” they chorus, and I
walk out of the room to unsolicited advice like, “Stay safe!” and “Use
protection!” I call back, just before the door closes, “Yeah well, you should
have reminded Blake about that.”
     
    “I’m not pregnant, Carl,” Vicky says pointedly. She glares at me, then takes a deep breath and
closes her eyes. When she opens them again, she is calm and collected, and she
looks at me with pity rather than anger. She is wearing a necklace of pearls
with matching earrings, and her conservative powder blue polo is neatly tucked
into her jeans and made of some shiny fabric that reflects light at