"Be my best man, Bodie?"

Choking on my beer, I can't think of a word to say.

"Sure, mate," I croak after a moment, and Doyle just releases a breath.

"Ta. Was hoping you would," he says, grinning. "But I know how much you hate weddings, too."

"Wouldn't miss this, would I?" I'm a great liar, but I hate lying to Doyle. "Who's the lucky girl, sunshine?"

Doyle snorts into his own drink. "Very funny. You know it's Ann."

He's only known her for three weeks and he wants to marry her? I tell him so.

"I love her," he says, indignant. "If you know what that means, mate."

Course, I do. I love him, don't I? I don't tell him that, though.

"I can always ask Murphy," he says, glaring. "If you've changed your mind."

I haven't. I just wish I could tell him the truth.

-- THE END --

July 2005