Hayes: If I were Jewish and had a Bubbie, this would be my life. Oh wait. It already is.
Roman: Then why. The fuck. Are you. Marrying HER?!
Hayes: Because she is all the things I love. Obviously. I’m marrying her because she’s perfect for me and my life and my situation. You know this.
Me: So Paris in the fall is magical, is what you’re saying. When do we get to meet the devil, I mean, princess?
Hayes: I’m being an asshole. She’s not that bad. She’s not.
Roman: Who are you trying to convince?
Hayes: I love her.
Braelyn: You love her what?
Hayes: Everything. I’m sure I love her everything. You know, when I think about it, I really like all the things she is. Especially after a vat of alcohol. I’m venting. Can’t a guy be allowed to vent?!
Forest: I’m just going to be factual and not sugarcoat anything. You’re the worst motherfucking liar in the history of liars. And I repeat what Roman said, so reread his text.
Hayes: I’m sure you married assholes all had moments of doubt like this.
Aston: Nope
Skylar: Totally
Roman: Zero.
Braelyn: Maybe.
Hayes: You see?! It’s not all “La Vie En Rose”. It’s normal to feel this way before you marry someone. Right?
Forest: Never been married but…
Aston: …
Skylar: …
Braelyn: …
Roman: …
Hayes: Fuck all of you.
Me: People, do you realize I’m footballing and not supposed to text?
Skylar: More like watching it. And you’re at practice.
Me: It’s the same thing. Oh! Shit. No. Gotta go!
Skylar: What happened?
Braelyn: Yikes. Everyone okay?
Roman: Quinn?
Hayes: Quinn? Is Crew okay? Mason?
I run onto the field and slide through the grass until I come up on the player who is on his butt holding his shin with an expression that tells me he heard a bad crack.