Page 1 of Epilogue Legacy

Ares

“I don’t get it. Why aren’t you more nervous?”

I was sure Thatcher wasn’t trying to be fucking annoying with his question, but he was being, well, fucking annoying.

Thatcher frowned. He sat watching me get fitted for my tux. Our other friends and our dads were around here somewhere getting fitted, too. Thatch crossed his big arms. “I mean, like, what if the DJ plays shitty music, or I forget the ring?”

“You won’t.” I straightened my tie in the mirror. The Armani suit was form-fitting and pristinely tailored. I eyed Thatcher. “Right?”

All the other guys would be checking to make sure Thatcher didn’t forget the fucking wedding rings, and each of them would be checking on each other to make sure the other best men duties were covered. I had several best men because I had more than one best friend, so all the tasks required of the job were divided.

Thatcher’s grin was wiry. “Right, bro.”

I grunted. Thatcher had been doing nothing but this weird-ass questioning shit. His questions hadn’t surrounded cold feet but the logistics of it all. He was worried if everything would be okay; but that was Thatcher. The dude was an empath like that.

I think that was the only reason why I was entertaining his fucking questions.

Thatcher got up and came to stand beside me. He was a huge fucking dude, so he ate up most of the mirror. He huffed. “How are you staying so relaxed?”

“Because I know everything will be okay.”

“How?”

Lifting my eyes, I turned. I loved my best friend, but his anal shit was starting to get to me. I put my hands on his shoulders. “Because none of this wedding shit matters. Well, it does matter, but it’s not the ultimate thing that matters. You know?”

He looked real fucking confused. I guess my explanation could have been better.

Grinning, I wrapped an arm around him. “Say it was you and Aspen getting married today,” I said, and he blinked at me referencing his girl. I laughed. “Seriously, say it was you guys. What would you be thinking about that day?”

“If she was okay.”

“And…”

“Well, nothing besides that. I…” His eyes scanned the ground. “I wouldn’t, because nothing else matters but her. Her and her happiness, I mean.”

I patted his chest. “Exactly. All the other logistics don’t matter. Calm comes with knowing that she’s it. She’s all that matters, bro.”

“So no nerves.” Thatcher smiled, looking up at me. “Nothing else matters but you and her.”

“Correct.”

We were joined by my father, his friends, and the rest of my friends. I should have known it was weird that I was left with Thatch’s ass: the men came in with a huge display of cigars, champagne, and music. Wells, one of my buddies, literally had a boombox on his shoulder. It blasted hip-hop. I laughed. “What’s all this?”

“A celebratory cigar as we’re coming down to the final days before my son’s wedding,” Dad said. He handed me a lit cigar.

My old man looked fly as shit in his classic tux. He wrapped a long arm around me. “I’m so proud of you, kid. Fawn’s a great girl, and I know you two will be really happy together.”

I knew my dad was proud of me. He told me that all the time since I went away. In the few years since graduation, I’d moved to New York City. Fawn and I had a penthouse apartment there. She worked for the New York Times and I had a small studio where I worked when I wasn’t doing street art. Basically, I had a good fucking life. A great life.

I grinned. “Thanks, Dad.”

“We would have done this for my son,” Royal said. He was my buddy Dorian’s dad and the pair looked so much alike. They were both large blonds. This was fitting for Dorian since he’s a quarterback in the NFL. Royal nudged Dorian. “That is, if he would have given us the opportunity.”

Dorian and his wife, Sloane, had hopped off to Vegas, like, hours after college graduation. My guy just couldn’t wait, I guess. But Fawn and I hadn’t been in a rush. She wanted to establish her career a bit, and I’d wanted to get my studio going. We were forever, so we figured why rush?

I could tell my boy D was trying not to roll his eyes at his dad. It’d been years since Dorian’s shotgun wedding, and he still heard about it. He took it in good stride though and knew we all loved him.

Dorian raised his champagne glass. “To Wolf,” he said, using my college football nickname. Dorian smiled. “And to the greatest girl for him. You and Fawn are magic, and you create that for each other.”