Page 61 of Big D!ck Energy

“Wait, Davina Lawson from the Big Girl Panties Podcast?” I nodded. “The same woman who called you a walking mid-life crisis?”

Austin choked on his beer. “She said that? On air?”

I nodded again. “Among other things.”

“And you married her?” He looked genuinely impressed. “Damn, bro. I didn't know you were into being roasted.”

Karen chose that moment to knock my fruit bowl off the counter. It shattered on the floor with a crash that made Ricky resume his yapping. The cat just sat there, tail twitching, looking directly at me.

“I should clean that up,” I said, grateful for the distraction.

“You should explain why you got married without telling us,” Cheyanne countered, but she was already grabbing the broom from my utility closet. She knew my house almost as well as I did. “Mom's going to murder you, by the way.”

“I know.”

“No, I don't think you do.” She swept the broken ceramic into a pile. “When are you telling them?” Cheyanne asked, dumping the broken bowl in the trash. “And don't say you were hoping to avoid it because…” She stopped, eyes widening. “Oh my God. You're getting divorced, aren't you? This is some weird PR thing.”

“No,” I said quickly. “We're not getting divorced.”

Not for six months minimum, anyway.

She studied my face with an uncomfortable intensity. “Dallas Dodger.”

“We got married because we wanted to get married,” I said, which was technically true at the time, even if we were blackout drunk. “It's real.”

Real enough, anyway.

Ricky had apparently decided Austin was acceptable and curled up on his foot. Austin looked down at him with a mixture of confusion and delight. “Can I pet him?”

“He'll probably allow it,” I said. “He's deemed you worthy.”

“Unlike you,” Cheyanne pointed out. “Your wife's dog hates you.”

“He doesn't hate me. He's just... adjusting.”

Karen meowed from her perch on the island, and I could have sworn it sounded sarcastic.

“Your whole life is adjusting,” Cheyanne said. “Are you happy?”

The question caught me off guard. Was I happy? I was stressed, confused, a little terrified, and covered in cat hair. My perfectly ordered life had been turned upside down in less than twenty-four hours.

But thinking about Davina coming home, to me, later, setting up her stuff in my space, probably arguing with me about where to put her coffee maker…

“Yeah,” I said, surprised to find it wasn't a lie. “I am.”

Cheyanne's expression softened. “Then I'm happy for you. Even if you did rob me of the chance to be a bridesmaid.”

“Elvis was the only witness.”

“I'm sorry, what?”

“Nothing.” I shook my head, trying to dislodge the mental image of Elvis's polyester jumpsuit. “Listen, give us a few days to get settled, figure things out, and then we'll have a party for both sides of the family.”

Austin was still petting Ricky, who'd now rolled over for belly rubs.

“Perfect.” She smiled. “Let's go, Austin. Leave the man to his... adjusting.”

They left, the door closing behind them. Karen resumed her position on the island, and Ricky sat by the door, presumably waiting for Davina.