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“You’re going to relegate me to the couch after not talking to me in forever and not telling me about your engagement yourself? Really?”
“Laying it on just a little thick with the guilt there, Annie.”
“Or maybe I’m letting you off easy. Have you ever tried to sleep on a couch?”
“I haven’t fit on a couch since I had a growth spurt at sixteen,” I say, and Annie presses her foot a little harder into mine under the table, opening her mouth to clap back when Bailey speaks from the doorway.
“I don’t mind sharing.”
I tilt my head back, looking at Bailey upside down. She’s just as adorable this way—hair sleep-messy and a little makeup smudged under her eyes. I like her short sleep shorts just a little too much.
“See?” Annie says. “Your almost-wife and my soon-to-be BFF doesn’t mind also being my bedfellow.”
“Bailey, you don’t have to?—”
“It’s fine,” she says with a little wave of her hand. As she takes the chair next to mine, Bailey drags soft fingers across myshoulders. A little shiver rolls over me, and I capture her hand, holding it on the table with my fingers loosely curved around her wrist where I can feel her pulse. She gives me a soft smile.
Annie holds up three fingers. “I hereby solemnly swear not to snore too loudly and only to steal the covers a little bit. Just enough to prepare you to share a bed with this brute.” She nods to me. “Think of it like spring training. You’ve got to be forewarned and fully ready to deal with an unrepentant sheet-stealer who has a deviated septum. Unless you’ve gotten that fixed since we last talked and it’s one more thing you didn’t feel like telling me?”
“I don’t snore.”
“He snores,” Annie says to Bailey, who’s biting back a smile, her teeth digging into her lip. “But he wouldn’t if he got his nose fixed. Maybe you can convince him.”
“You have a deviated septum?” Bailey asks, looking concerned. I like that look on her face. Makes my heart pick up into a hearty jog.
“I’ve had my nose broken a few times,” I tell her. “It’s fine.”
“Doesn’t sound fine when you’re sleeping, bro.”
“I think he’d actually do it if you asked, Bailey.” That’s Mom, who is now awake and turning this into a very clear three-against-one battle as she sits down in the last empty chair. “He’s a lovesick puppy and would do anything for you.”
“Awwww,” Annie says, a wicked grin stretching across her mouth. “Wittle Ewi in wuv.”
Bailey laughs, and my cheeks flame hot. “Is this how it’s gonna be?” I ask, looking at the three women.
And I’m somewhere between terrified and all kinds of sentimental when my mom, my sister, and my fiancée all respond as one: “Yes.”
I’m dragging the next morning at practice after so little sleep, and so of course, the guys bring the Speed Bump moniker back. Along with a lot of extra hits and comments, which I think have more to do with the fact that I’m refusing to have a stag night, aka a bachelor party.
For one—I’m not in the least interested in the typical things guys do for those events. I’ve never understood how getting wasted at strip clubs is considered a celebration of marriage. And while Felix offered to plan something more like just a guy hangout night, which I would be okay with, there simply isn’t time. As it is, I barely managed to throw together a non-courthouse wedding and am still not entirely sure something won’t fall through in the next two days. Mom delegated some tasks to her book club friends, but my teammates are handling the lion’s share.
In the locker room after practice, I pull up my checklist and start barking out questions. “Logan—you’re picking up the flowers?”
“For the seventh time, yes.”
“I’m a go on food,” Nathan offers before I can ask. He doesn’t sound happy about it but I also know he’ll do it if he says so.
“Camden—drinks?” When he nods, I point my pen at Wyatt, who’s only wearing a towel. “You’re still good picking up the cake?”
“On it. And I watched both videos on how to correctly transport a wedding cake in a vehicle, so thanks for sending those,” he says drily.
I ignore his tone. I’m not taking any chances after I read about how many cakes get damaged in transit.
“Gracie’s string quartet is all set for the ceremony,” Felix says, cutting me off before I can ask. “And I’ll be on duty with Bailey’s grandmother.”
“Perfect.” Bailey warned me that her gran is cantankerous (her word), but I decide not to warn Felix. He can handle one grumpy grandma.
“Why don’t we have jobs?” Tucker whines, rubbing a towel over his reddish-brown hair.
