“Good touch or bad touch?” I asked, struggling in Colton’s arms.
“Safe to assume, it was probably all bad touch.” Jason nodded knowingly like he was an authority on the topic. “By the looks of the marks on his arms, there was an obvious struggle.”
Max nodded.
“Yeah.” Colton released me and went over to Max’s side. “A few pieces of hair missing—catfight?”
He nodded again as Colton leaned in and sniffed.
“They marked you.”
He whispered. “At first it was fun—”
“Always is.” Jason whistled.
“And then . . .” Max swallowed. “They all wanted to hang out and I couldn’t keep their names straight, and then I was hit with this wall of expensive perfume, and someone put something in my drink, I swear I’m not making this up! I swear they drugged me. The room started spinning, they all wanted to talk, and then a few of them started asking me why men were stupid, and then they said we hate men . . .” His lower lip trembled as he repeated in a weak voice, “We hate men.”
“Dude, you don’t have to keep going,” Colton said tenderly. “We got you.”
“No.” Max stumbled away. “This needs to be said, damn it!”
Colton held up his hands in defeat.
“Then they . . .” Max rubbed his arms. “They touched me, ripped my shirt open, said that I was the only one who understood them, that I wasn’t like those other men and then . . .” His eyes found mine. “They kissed me, like seven of them, all bridesmaids. A few were married. I tried to pull away but they have claws masquerading as acrylic nails. They dug into my skin, and the crazy part, when I tried to run—they liked it!”
“They do, man, they always do. It’s like getting attacked by a bear, you just cover your head and pray it will be over soon.”
I raised my hand. “Hate to break up whatever this is, but I gotta know, did Jayne own up to it?”
All eyes flashed to my face like I’d just told Max to go back to the women and offer himself up as a male sacrifice.
“No.” Max’s shoulders slumped. “Every time I tried to get her alone, another girl would follow. Jayne just wasn’t into the whole scene. She was on her phone half the time talking to some chick about the bachelorette party.” He rolled his eyes and mimicked her voice. “ ‘Oh, it will be so fun, shooters! I can’t wait for shooters.’ ”
I jumped into Max’s arms in excitement.
He dropped me and started screaming, “Get away, get away!”
“She’s not pregnant!” I yelled.
“How do you figure?” Colton pulled me away from a shaking Max.
“Would you be excited about shooters if you couldn’t actually drink them?”
“No,” the guys said in unison.
“So it wasn’t all for nothing!” I said in a chipper voice, then added more solemnly, “You’ll be honored for what you did, Max.”
He closed his eyes and nodded.
“So.” I clapped my hands. “Who’s going to infiltrate the bachelorette party?”
All the men pointed at me.
Yeah, no way was I getting out of that one.
CHAPTER TWENTY
MILO
Two shots of vodka, a strong cup of coffee, and a shower seemed to bring Max out of his crazy mood, though he was still pretty jumpy. When I handed him the coffee he hissed.
I smacked him and told him to behave, and then he looked like he was ready to cry. What the hell did those women do to him?
“You sure you’re going to be okay?” I took a sip of my own coffee.
“Of course,” he said smoothly. “But, er, the only way I was able to actually leave was because I told them I was gay.”
The coffee spewed out of my mouth directly onto his face and crisp white shirt.
“Worst. Day. Ever.” He reached for a towel and wiped the coffee dripping from his chin. “And now I have to change.”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. “So now not only are we hopelessly in love, but engaged, and you’re gay? How does that work?”
“Oh, no worries.” He set the towel down. “I was gay until I met you—then I fell in love and decided to try to be straight.”
“Try?” I repeated. “Can’t we change the story to something like you play both fields but mine is more fun?”
“Hmm.” He rubbed his chin and considered it for a moment, then nodded. “That works too.”
“My mom’s going to freak out.” I pressed my hands to my temples and pushed away the beginning of a headache.
“Chill, it’s not like anyone’s going to say anything. Besides, they were drinking so much wine it’ll be a shock if half the bridesmaids even make it to the rehearsal dinner. You’ll see.”
An hour later the entire wedding party—including both families and the nice pastor—were seated at the table.
I kept getting looks of pity from the bridesmaids, as if they knew my dirty secret.
Max mouthed, “Sorry” as he took a sip of wine and then dug into his salad.
Honestly, things had progressed pretty well; everyone was getting along. Jayne was doting on my brother enough to make me want to puke up shrimp cocktail and Colton was sitting on my right.
Our arms kept brushing.
I swear I only contemplated throwing him onto the table and having my way with him like three times. Maybe four. Or five. Or six.
“Milo?” Colton nudged me. “You okay?”
“Yeah, why?”
“You were counting out loud and gripping your fork like you wanted to impale someone.”
“Stress,” I said through clenched teeth.
His eyebrows drew together in concern. “Drink more wine.”
“Good advice.”
We tapped glasses just as my mom stood at the head of the table and clinked her crystal water goblet with her fork. “I just wanted to take some time to say thank you to everyone who helped us set up today.”
Everyone being the three of us. But whatever.
“And, I’m so . . . glad.” She totally choked on the word glad. “That Jason has found someone worthy of spending his life with.”
I grinned at Jayne: ah, true love.
She wiped a few honest-to-God tears and stood up to give my mom a hug. The same woman she’d bitched out a few hours ago.
Her parents hugged my parents.
Let’s just say there was a lot of hugging.
“I have something to say . . .” I pushed out of my seat and stood.
Jayne smirked in my direction. I smiled politely back. “Jason, I’m so glad that after all those years getting high in the garage, you finally saw the light, and instead of growing pot, like you originally intended, went to college and came back a better man. It honestly”—I wiped my own fake tears—“makes a sister so proud to know that you chose to be drug-free and dumped that really pretty Victoria’s Secret model in pursuit of more homegrown”—I sighed—“options.” I looked around. “Because let’s be honest, that girl would have led you back down that rabbit hole. Instead of the high life, you’re here. In the suburbs with Jayne. It sounds so idyllic, don’t you think? At any rate.” I lifted my glass. “I’m just proud of you for pulling your life together and marrying such a winner!”
I sat.
Nobody raised their glasses.
Finally Max stood and said, “Cheers.”
Everyone drank while Colton pinched me under the table.
Jayne was seething; I could practically see smoke billowing out of her ears as she glared at me from across the table.
As Max opened his mouth to speak, one of the drunken bridesmaids sputtered out, “Aw, I wish you weren’t gay, Max.”
My mom dropped her wineglass and gasped as my dad swore graphically in front of the pastor.
The pastor held up his hands and said something about how all God’s children were welcome at the table.
Max’s wide eyes found mine.
I pinched Colton. “Make it better!”
&n
bsp; His chair tipped over as he stood and shouted, “I kissed Milo!”
And silence.
“That was making it better?” I whispered.
“You bastard!” Jason yelled.
“Oh dear, oh dear.” The pastor reached for his wine, then made the sign of a cross in front of his chest as my mom reached for my dad’s shoulder and gripped his tie instead, which formed a noose around his neck.
I think he wanted her to pull.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
COLTON
“Jason!” I held up my hands. “Calm down!”
Wrong thing to say. Milo tried to stand in front of me, but Jason easily moved her out of the way.
I should have run.
Instead I faced him like a man.
And got punched in the face.
Yeah, the wedding pics were going to hell in a handbasket.
“Damn it!” I fell over my chair and continued swearing until I made eye contact with the pale pastor across the table. “Sorry, uh, sir.”
He shook his head and took a substantial drink of wine.
“Mom, we’ll be right back,” Jason yelled as he grabbed me by the collar of my shirt and booted me out the door. Once we were in the yard, I turned to face him only to receive another punch in the face.
“What the hell, man?” I tasted blood in my mouth.
“You kiss her after she’s engaged?”
“Wait!” I held up my hands. “What?”
“You waited until she was taken before you kissed her, you bastard!”
I backed up and shook my head. “I’m confused.”
“Why couldn’t you have realized you loved her before she got engaged? She’s probably confused as hell and it’s all your fault! And she doesn’t deserve that and neither does Max, and you’re a bastard for waiting twenty-three years to finally see what the hell was in front of you all along.”
“Holy shit,” I whispered. “You knew?”
“Dude.” He shook out the hand he’d used to punch me. “I thought you were going to cry when she left for college, and then all those other chicks you were trying to date . . . I bet they paled in comparison. Then, when you knew she was coming back for the wedding, you wouldn’t leave me alone! You kept asking if you looked okay, was your hair too long? When was Milo coming? Was she bringing anyone? Hell, you’re a wreck.”
“I love her,” I blurted.
“No shit.”
“She’s marrying the wrong guy.”
“Well, apparently he’s gay, so at least you got that going for you.”
I laughed. Like really laughed. How the hell had things gotten so screwed up? Jason joined in until we were almost rolling on the ground.
“I thought it was one of those unspoken rules,” I finally said. “I thought you’d be pissed.”
Jason folded his arms across his chest. “It’s my job to be protective—which I was—but I trust you, man. If I was really against you guys hooking up—do you think I would have left you alone as much as I did? I swear I gave you so many chances to tell her and every single time you punked out.”
“Yeah,” I said, irritated as hell with myself. “I did.”
“So.” Jason shrugged. “Now what? Are you going to pull your head out of your ass or are you going to let her marry Max? Because frankly, they don’t act like they’re in love, and let’s be honest, that guy is as metrosexual as they come. Don’t get me wrong, he’s nice, but . . . I always pictured her with a homegrown guy, not a city one.”
“He likes nice clothes.” Why the hell was I defending him?
“He was also taken advantage of by women today—women!” Jason laughed. “If he can go into the lion’s den and come out alive—you can admit to Milo you have feelings. Hell, you don’t even have to drop the L-word.”
“And if she rejects me? And I ruin our friendship?”
Jason was silent for a minute.
I waited.
“Love is never a sure thing, man. You’re never going to be totally certain that the person you offer your heart to will accept it with open hands, but if you don’t take that risk you’ll never reap the benefits of what it has to offer. If she rejects you, at least you can move on with your life. Because right now you’re in a hell of your own making. Any movement on your part, whether it’s towards her or away, is better than staying where you’re at.”
“Hell,” I mumbled. “That was a lot of wisdom you just spouted right there.”
“Yeah, well.” Jason laughed. “Clearly that weed I used to smoke didn’t kill all my brain cells.”
We burst out laughing.
Jason sobered first, his eyes flickering to the ground as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I screwed up.”
“No.”
“Yeah.” He rolled his eyes. “I dated her because I was bored, screwed her because she was hot, and proposed because I was trapped. So much for love, huh?”
“We’ll figure it out.” I tried to sound convincing even though I knew the odds were stacked against him. “You ready to head back in?”
“You go.” Jason turned away and started walking toward the end of the backyard, where the swing set stood. “I need a few minutes.”
“All right.” I walked back toward the house. Instead of going in the back door I went around the front, with the idea of avoiding the watchful eyes of the wedding party. Hopefully the rehearsal dinner was winding down—I’d rather set myself on fire than sit one more minute at that table.
The bachelor party couldn’t come soon enough. Jason had one best friend, me, and a dozen other friends we all hung out with regularly. He’d picked six of the closest ones to stand with him at the wedding. The ones not in the wedding would all be at the bachelor party, which meant I could get away from Milo for a few hours and try to figure out what to do. Being next to her was too distracting . . . and I was pretty sure if I tried to kiss her again she was going to knee me in the balls. I needed a better plan of action.
“Max!” Milo whispered. “What are we going to do now?”
“I want to go home,” he said in a low voice. “Bitches be crazy and I don’t have enough strength to say no. I don’t have it in me, I’m juiced out, my number’s been called, Milo. Shit, the things I do for my best friend.”
Milo clapped her hands. “Focus, Max. What’s the story?”
“I love you,” he said in a bored voice.
Curious, I stepped around the corner. No chance in hell I was sticking around to watch them make out. But they were by the bathroom under the stairs, apparently strategizing, so I paused, remaining hidden in the entry. Seemed I wasn’t moving any time soon after all, especially considering I’d heard Milo say, “What’s the story?” Indeed. What was the story? My ears strained to hear their conversation.
“Make it sound more convincing.”
“My heart,” he drawled. “Oh, how it beats for you. Thump, thump, thumpity thump—”
“I’m not Bambi!”
“Aw, Thumper, what a guy, I used to love that rabbit—”
“Max!” she snapped.
“Fine. You’re beautiful, I want to screw your brains out and—oh, look, cake.”
“No cake until you make it more convincing.”
“Remind me of this moment,” Max said in a lofty voice, “when I ask you for a favor, and trust me, it’s going to be huge. I mean I’m pretending to be your fiancé.”
“Your fault,” she said in an irritated voice. “You were only supposed to be the boyfriend.”
“And now I’m gay . . .” he continued.
“Again, your fault.”
“And now they want to hear our engagement story.”
“Again,” Milo snapped, “your fault!”
“I panicked!” he said in a strained voice. “I’m still not myself . . .”
She groaned and reached for his hand. “Fine, we’ll just say we met at school, fell in love, and you proposed under the stars.”
He scoffed, “Please, I have more romance
than that in my pinky finger.”
“You proposed during poetry class?”
“No.” He released her hand and tapped his chin. “They’ll never believe I would be so unoriginal.”
“Need I remind you . . . They. Don’t. Know. You.”
“A concert.” He snapped his fingers. “A concert I put on for the homeless—”
“Oh, hell.”
“—and I wrote a song for you. The last song, and I asked you to come onstage. You cried. People in the audience wept, I mean full-on wept when I told them the story about how you rescued me from my nasty drug addiction and involvement in the Mafia.”
“You’re Canadian.”
“And then.” He snapped his fingers again. “As I held your face, like a mother holds her newborn babe close to her teat . . .” He nodded. “You whispered, ‘Max is the love of my life. I’d die for him, and yes, yes I’ll marry you, and bear you seven children to fill the house with laughter. Yes, I’ll sleep with you every night—naked, because you hate clothes—and I swear, nay, I vow . . . ’ ”
Holy shit! Were his lips trembling?
“ ‘To make dinner for you. Every. Damn. Night.’ ” He lowered his head. “Yes, it’s perfect. All right. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
“If I could go back in time, I’d burn down that theater camp.”
“Wasted opportunities.” The guy winked. “Besides, you freaking love me. I saved your ass from a boring existence pining away after Colton these last four years.”
“Yeah.” She nodded sadly. “That’s true.”
My entire body froze, my heart shattered in my chest. She was sad. I’d made her sad. She’d done this because I was too afraid to speak up. Then again, Milo had really outdone herself to convince me she didn’t want me, but that didn’t matter. Her face fell as Max wrapped his arms around her in a gesture of comfort.
Screw that. Dragon slayer was back, and look, I actually had one to slay now—his name? Max.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
COLTON
No, flipping, freaking, bloody, damn way!
Hell.
Hell.
Hell.
That little brat!
It was a tie between wanting to strangle her with my bare hands and wanting to swat that tight little ass for putting me through twelve hours of hell. There I was, hiding beneath the stairs like some lovesick bastard and she’d been playing me the whole damn time! While I was elated that Max was nothing more than a friend, my fingers itched to do something violent as they shared an easy smile with one another and a parting hug. I’d been ready to go to PRISON over their kissing. I could have been someone’s bitch for no reason.