The Bellamy Brothers group chat lit up before I almost typedCome over. Let’s talk…
Tucker: How’s your ticker?
Me: Still ticking.
Tucker: Sending my hockey groin-rehab routine. Might work for hearts.
Brooks: Please don’t.
Tucker: Too late. Zip file incoming.
Me: Willing to try anything.
Tucker: Pelvic thrusts on ice are amazing. Whitney loves what they do for our sex life.
Me: No ice. No sex life.
Tucker: What happened to Penny?
Me: Small hiatus.
Brooks: Can we go back to discussing Arch’s recovery?
Good to know they cared—in their own warped way.
I sorted the deck of cards again, when a red-foiled envelope fell out. I opened it and read:
You’re invited to the wedding of Brier & Westley
Valentine’s Day • Las Vegas
Inside, a note appeared on the RSVP card:
Penny would love to have you there, as would I.
Brier
Typical Brier. Professional meddler with a heart of gold.
I snapped a picture of the invite and texted Penny.
Me: Guess what hit my mailbox.
Penny: A wedding invite?
Me: Yep.
Penny: I’m helping her plan it. The house looks like a craft store exploded. She’s bedazzling her gown and making diamond art favors.
Me: I’d help, but I’m two left hands with that stuff.
Penny: Stick to naps and vegetables. Doctor’s orders.
Me: Congratulate her for me.
Penny: I will. She’s speaking with a real estate agent right now to list this house and her doggie daycare. She wants to move in with Westley by the wedding, so I’ll be apartment hunting after the holidays.
Me: I see. Lots of change on the horizon.
