“Yeah, because that’s what I was going for,” I mutter, snatching the clothes from Chace’s hands before he can start critiquing my boxers next.
“Don’t forget the shoes and the jacket,” Chace calls after me as I disappear into the bathroom. “Mac said they were Italian leather!”
I shut the door just as his laughter rings out.
By the time I come back, dressed, they’re all staring. Even Logan sets his coffee down.
Chace’s eyebrows shoot up. “Well, holy shit. Look at you.”
Sam nods slowly. “You clean up nice, Baker. Who knew?”
I roll my shoulders, uncomfortable under the attention.
“I look like a fucking penguin.”
Loganloses it.
“Don’t make me start on you again,Logey Wogey,” I warn, pointing at him. That just makes him laugh harder—like, doubled over, wheezing kind of laughter
“What’s so funny!?” I demand, freaking out a little. I’ve seen Logan mad, drunk, heartbroken—but laughing like this? It’s unnerving.
He chokes out between laughs, “You…you’re both penguins.”
It takes me a second. Then it hits.Because sera is basically a fucking nun.And suddenly, I’m two seconds away from crying into this rented tux. Chace wipes at the corner of his eye, still grinning. “Penguins aside, I still think you need a boutonnière, bro. Maybe a pop of color—something that screams, ‘I’m domesticated now.’”
“What thefuckis a boo-tonny-air?” I ask.
“It’s a flower,” Sam says, deadpan. “You pin it to your lapel.”
“Oh. Wait—I thought that was a prom thing? The wrist flower? The… corsage?”
The room breaks into laughter again, the sound bouncing off the walls—loud, stupid, warm. The kind that makes you forget, just for a second, that the world outside is a mess.
When it dies down, Logan steps forward. Doesn’t say anything right away. Just studies me with that half-smirk of his that never gives anything away.
“Braden would’ve fucking loved this,” he says quietly. The laughter fades in an instant. My throat tightens before I can stop it.
“If I upset you earlier—with that shitty joke…”
He shakes his head. “We’re cool. I told you. He’d have found it funny.”
“Good,” I mutter, eyes dropping to the floor. Logan’s eyes stay locked on mine. “He’d be right next to Mac—telling her what color the flowers should be, making sure your shirt was ironed right. You know how he was. Everything had to be perfect.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. My chest aches in that old, familiar way—the space Braden left never quite filling, no matter how loud the world gets. “He’d probably be giving me shit about it too.”
Logan chuckles softly. “Definitely. He’d say you’re out of your damn mind, then hug you anyway.”
I look down at my hands, the tattoos that tell the story of who I’ve been and who I’m still trying to be. “He’d like her,” I murmur. “Seraphina. He’d see her the way he saw things. Like she was light, even when everything else was dark.”
Logan’s smirk softens, something like fondness flickering in his eyes. He claps a hand on my shoulder, firm but not heavy.
“Brother, he had a thing for redheads. He might’ve beaten you to it.”
For a second, the air catches in my chest. Then Chace lets out a low whistle, and Sam nods like a sage monk mid-breakfast.
“Yeah,” Sam says, voice full of quiet conviction. “We got you, Romeo.”
Chace stands and claps me on the shoulder. “Go be the hero, Baker. We’ve gotta get ready. Give us ten minutes then meet us downstairs, and Trey…Try not to trip walking down the aisle, yeah?”
