Brady and Jake were totally on board with our plan to get blitzed. It never took much to convince them to tie one on. And with the added bonus of a reason to drink, it was on.

They even decided to pool their cash and head down the street to the liquor store and contribute a case or two of beer.

Why the hell not? I figured. It’s not like I had a lot of options at this point. I had to wait until Monday for the bank to open before I could even hope to get someone to help me with my accounts. I had no cash. I was totally dependent on my friends to even provide me with food for the weekend. Not that I’d need much food if the amount of beer Brady and Jake returned with was any indication.

Jake called Ashley and Mary, demanding they come home immediately and help us have a final roommate blowout misery party. Mary arrived first with a box of cheap wine hanging from each hand.

“Look, there was sale!” she announced. “Score!”

I raised my empty shot glass to her as I crammed a bite of pickle into my mouth as a chaser. It was actually a pretty good combination, vodka and pickles, I’d discovered. But there were only a few pickles left. “Welcome to the shit show!” I told her when my mouth was clear.

“Let me catch up.” Mary grabbed an Avengers 2 commemorative cup from the cabinet and filled it with the cheap rosé from one of her boxes of wine. The cup was easily a 32-ouncer, but I don’t think she filled the whole thing. Hard to be sure, though, as my vision was already getting a bit blurry from the number of icy cold vodka shots I’d chased with pickles.

“I like your style, Mary, you know that?” Brady asked cheerfully as he cracked the top off beer number…something.

Soon Ashley got home to join the fray. She was carrying a paper grocery bag that was obviously heavy.

“Hey guys!” she called as she came in. “I snagged the leftovers from tonight’s toast!” Ash worked for a catering company that did weddings, and sometimes she was able to bring home goodies for us. The spoils ranged from uneaten wedding cake, to a single plated steak dinner, to half-poured bottles of wine. She was particularly good at uncorking bottles near the end of dinner and making sure they didn’t get emptied.

“Got anything to eat in there?” Jake wondered.

“Nope, sorry. Tonight, the Brut’s on me, though.” Ash set her bag on the table and pulled out four partial bottles of champagne. They weren’t cold, or very fizzy after being open for a few hours, but we didn’t care.

“We’re gonna have to order pizza,” Jake decreed.

“Can anyone spot me?” I asked with a hiccup. “I’m not sure pickles are enough of a dinner.”

Mary patted my head and helped me get a long strand of my dark hair free from the corner of my lip where my clumsy fingers kept missing it.

“We got you,” Jake assured me.

I knew they did. And it broke my heart. Because these people had been my family for two years. They’d been with me after my mom died during my sophomore year. They’d been there for me every step of the way. And Ashley had been my roommate since our first year in the freshman dorms. This was my tribe. My college support system, and we were all going our separate ways in just a few days!

That realization brought on a fresh flood of emotion that was immediately backed up by a resurgence of the awfulness of my financial status. Less than zero. A police report that would probably never lead to a conviction. And nearly two days before I could begin the terrible process of trying to convince my bank that I needed them to restore my money.

So, I did the obvious thing, I started to cry.

“Oh no!” Ashley gushed, hurrying around the table to hug me. “Poor Emmy! Don’t cry!”

“Here,” Mary thrust one of the open bottles of champagne at me. “This is for happiness. Drink!”

Sniveling, I took a drink. It was so warm and so flat that I almost spit it out in protest, but Mary looked so pleased with having found a solution that I didn’t want to hurt her feelings. I forced down the swallow, and another one after that.

“There you go!” Mary cheered like a mother whose toddler just made tinkle on the potty for the first time. “I knew it would help!”

Mary became pretty motherly when she’s drinking. She could always be counted on to hold back someone’s hair if they were puking. Or to bring you a glass of water. Well, she’d try anyway. Sometimes she ended up setting the cup down on the floor and taking an impromptu nap before she made it back to you, but it was the thought that counted, don’t you think?

Ashley scooped up another bottle of the flat champagne and offered it up in toast. “To things only getting better from here.”

“God, they can’t get worse, can they?” I moaned.

“To dodging the marriage bullet,” Brady added, tipping the end of his beer bottle in Beckett's direction.

“Brady!” Mary chided, throwing a handy plastic spoon at him. The kitchen counter was a chaotic heap of things we had already finished from the refrigerator and plenty of things we hadn’t. There was a pattern of pale green rings from all the places we’d set the pickle jar. A spattering of red dots from the jar of maraschino cherries that had lingered in the back of the refrigerator since god knew when. We’d used the plastic spoon to fish out all the cherries. There was a half-empty bag of baby carrots that had gone white with dehydration and an open tub of French onion dip that none of us had bothered to check was still within its freshness date. And there were condiments by the dozen. Mustards, ketchup, ranch dressing, dipping sauces in little plastic containers sent over by the local pizza delivery place.

At one point, Brady had asked how much we would pay him to drink all the garlic butter sauce straight from the small cups, but no one took the bet—it was pretty obvious he’d do it for free if he had a few more beers.

“Hey!” Brady protested. “You said yourself they were rushing into this!” He picked up the spoon and pointed it at Mary.

“I nev—I didn’t!” Mary’s face turned pink with humiliation as she turned to look at Beckett. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean it!”

Beckett looked at her carefully for a long moment. “You said that?”

Now Jake jumped to Mary’s defense. “We all did, dude. Don’t pick on Mary.”

“You all did?” Beckett looked around in surprise.

I wished with all my heart that I could say that I honestly hadn’t thought it. But I would have been lying. Even though I’d always believed that Beckett and Emily were the forever kind of couple, I had wondered if it was a little foolish to get married and move in together when they hadn’t even lived in the same state for so many years. Still, he was my friend, and I wanted to believe that he knew what was right for himself.

Beckett looked at each one of us in turn, silently demanding a response.

“Dude, I said it to your face,” Brady said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, man, you know we both thought you were giving in to her parents too easily,” Jake agreed.

This was a bit of a surprise to me. I mean, Brady and Jake had always razzed Beckett about getting hitched, but it all seemed good-natured. Kind of automatic. Like they were just doing what they were expected to do as his buddies.

Now Beckett turned his attention back to Mary. “I just want you to be happy,” she said sincerely, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

“Things could still work out with you guys,” Ashley offered lamely. “I mean, just because she needs some time doesn’t mean that she’s cutting you out of her life, does it?” My roommate turned to me expectantly.

I shook my head, making the room slosh unsteadily. “Don’t look at me. What the hell do I know about relationships?”

“So none of you thought this was a good idea,” Beckett clarified.

“That doesn’t mean we weren’t going to support you one-hundred percent!” Mary declared emphatically.

“What the hell, you guys?” he said. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We did,” Brady reminded him. “Remember? I said, 'Hey, man, don’t you think you should at least see if there’s anything there between you two before you go off and get married?'”

“I think you said, ‘What if she’s gone psycho since you last saw her?’” Jake supplied.

Now Mary grabbed the spoon from Brady’s hand and flung it at Jake.

“Hey! I didn’t say it, he did!” Jake pointed at Brady. “It was a quote, Mare!”

“Then throw it at him,” Mary instructed.

Jake did.

“None of you were going to try to stop me?” Beckett asked.

No one answered. My alcohol soaked brain told me that hours were passing in silence, though in retrospect, it had to be seconds at most.

“What? Like ‘I object!’ This is not a movie, Beck.” At least I think that’s what I said. That’s what I meant to say.

“Yeah, man,” Brady said. “Sometimes you gotta back your friend up, even if he’s being a dumbass.”

“Jesus. Thanks a lot, you guys.” Beckett slid off the high stool where he’d been perched for hours.

The rest of us exchanged glances as his heavy footsteps went up the stairs.

“Oops,” Brady said.

“No, forget that,” Jake said. “If he didn’t think this was a half-assed plan to begin with, there’s nothing any of us could have said that would have shown him the light.”

No one spoke for a second, then Mary added, “Maybe we should have tried.”

“Maybe,” Brady said.

“Should one of us check on him?” Ashley wondered, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’ll go.” I slid off my own stool, surprised by how unstable the floor felt with my feet on it. “Whoa.”

“Maybe I should go,” Ashley said. “I’m still sober.”

“That’s okay. I gotta pee like crazy.”

I wobbled my way through the living room to the stairs and held the railing with both hands. The steps looked like a mountain to me, but I hauled myself to the second floor. My instincts told me to look for Beckett, but my bladder had a simple majority, and I followed its vote to the bathroom. The neighboring bathroom door was already closed, making me think Beckett might have had the same problem I did.

I took care of business, not bothering to look at my reflection in the mirror over the sink as I washed my hands. It was too frightening a prospect.

Back out in the hall, I found the guy’s bathroom door still closed and I tapped on it a few times.

“Beck?”

There was no answer, and I thought I’d have to do my mountain-climbing routine to the third floor to check his bedroom, but then the door clicked open and Beckett was on the other side, looking about as drunk as I felt.

“Hey,” I said. “You shouldn’t listen to us. You do what you need to feel happy, okay?”

“I thought I was,” he said.

“Oh.” Yeah, not a whole lot more to say about that, was there? He’d just had the rug pulled out from under him as far as happiness.

“Fuck,” he muttered, slumping against the doorframe.

“Maybe she just has cold feet!” I said excitedly. “She’s just nervous.”

Beckett pulled his phone out of his pocket again and showed me a picture message from Emily. It was a screenshot of an email from the University of Arizona, showing her class list for the fall semester. “Pretty fucking nervous, wouldn’t you say?”

“Oh,” I said again.

“How long as she been planning to leave me?” he wondered.

I didn’t have an answer. It was hard enough to think normal thoughts right now, much less answer questions like that. Instead, I hiccuped once and a little burp escaped me. “Pickle.” I grimaced.

Beckett smiled, just a little. “Emmy, I’m sorry. You’ve got your own shit to deal with. I shouldn’t be acting like such a—”

I put my hand over his mouth. “You’re not.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled against my fingers.

With a little smile of my own, I let my hand fall away from his lips. “Mine is just money. It’s not the end of the world.” I could hardly believe the words were coming out of my mouth. Just hours before I’d thought it was literally the end of the world. I still didn’t have a plan. I didn’t know if I’d be able to get any of my money back. I didn’t know where I was going to live or if I’d be able to pay my fall tuition. But that felt small compared to what Beckett had lost.

“You’re a better friend than me.” He pushed off the doorframe and pulled me into a hug. “Thanks.”

Feeling emotional, I snuggled into his chest. Beckett was tall and broad-shouldered, which made me feel small and safe in his arms. He rubbed one hand over my back, then smoothed down my hair.

“Don’t take this this wrong way, but do you have any idea how long it’s been since I had sex?”

I giggled, easing back enough to look up at him. “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I don’t,” he said sternly. “It just…reminded me.”

“What did?”

He grinned, embarrassed. “You’re just…all girly.”

“I’m not having sex with you,” I told him.

“I’m not asking you to.”

“Good.” I disentangled myself from his embrace and gave him an appraising look. “Been that long, huh?”

“Last time I saw her was July 4^th weekend.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “And now…”

“You wanna go out and pick up some random girl tonight?” I suggested.

“No.”

“Oh come on. Could be just what you need. Get a little strange.”

“I’d be useless.”

“You’re just out of practice. You’d be fine. Nothing to it. It’s like riding a bike. A sexy bike.”

“Even if I wanted to, I don’t think I could.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t even see straight.”

“That’s the perfect amount of drunkeness for rebound sex.”

He leaned toward me, looking me in the eyes. “It’s not happening.”

“Oh!” I said with sudden understanding and held up one limp finger. “Whiskey dick?”

“Jesus, Em.” But he laughed. “No, okay? Whiskey brain maybe.”

I shook my head disapprovingly. “Suit yourself.”

“Thank you, I will.”

“You’re probably used to it by now, eh?” I teased with a grin and the barest darting glance toward the crotch of his shorts.

“Oh fuck you.”

“I already said no to that.”

“Just as well. You couldn’t handle me.”

I laughed. “Pretty sure you’ve got that backwards.”

“I guess we’ll never know.”

“Come on,” I tugged on his arm. “Let’s go back down and show the others you’re okay.”

“Okay-ish,” he agreed.

“That’ll do for now.”