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I leaned across the distance between us and slapped his arm. "Congratulations, man. You're gonna be a dad. That's awesome."
"Yeah, awesome," Ollie said in a tone that suggested the news was the opposite of awesome.
"What's wrong? You're head-over-heels in love with Mara, and you've both been talking about having kids practically since the day you met."
"I know, but…" He squirmed in his chair. "What if I screw up?"
"Come on, Ollie, that's nerves talking. Wedding jitters, isn't that what they call it?"
He shrugged. "I guess."
We both needed some booze. Yeah, that would help. Okay, maybe booze wasn't the smartest plan to help my best friend, but I couldn't think of anything better. Desperate times called for desperate measures, right?
That was probably one of the worst excuses for a bender ever invented.
I stood up and slapped his arm again. "Get your butt outta that chair, Ollie. We're going to the pantry."
"What?" Ollie compressed his lips and glared at me. "How is a visit to the food pantry going to make me feel better?"
"You'll see when we get there."
He grumbled, rolling his eyes.
I kicked his foot. "Up. Now."
Ollie grumbled again but pushed out of the chair.
And we trundled downstairs, through the kitchen, to the locked door at the back. I had a key, naturally, being the concierge, so I unlocked the door and swung it open.
"Computer nerds first," I said, hoping a friendly jibe might get a smile from Ollie. It didn't, so I walked into the pantry first. "What are you in the mood for this morning? Bourbon? Beer? Vodka?"
"Isn't it kind of early for drinking?"
"Not when the groom is having a panic attack."
Ollie scowled at me. "I am not having a panic attack."
"When sweet little Ollie gives me a dirty look, I know he's freaking out."
"I'm as tall as you are, which means I'm not little."
"Sensitive this morning, aren't you?" I started browsing the bottles on the shelves. "I noticed you didn't dispute the 'sweet' comment."
"Women like nice guys."
"Mara says you're a snuggly-wuggly wittle cuddle bear." If I couldn't tempt him to drink, maybe some ribbing would work.
Ollie came up beside me, arms locked over his chest. "When did Mara ever tell you that?"
"She didn't. I read between the lines." I threw him a sideways glance and couldn't resist smirking. "When she calls you a stud muffin, I translate that as 'soft and squishy snuggly-wuggly Awee the cuddle bear.' My Ludar lidar confirmed it."
"Maybe you shouldn't harass me when I'm panicking."
"Oh-ho," I said, pointing a finger at him, "you admitted you're freaking out."
"No, I—Well, it's—" He flung his hands up and snarled. "You are such an asshole, Damian."
"That's my job. To piss off the groom so he stops worrying about every little thing." I grabbed a bottle off the shelf. "Well, that and get booze for you."
