Daisy takesone for the team by going in to pick up JD’s tux at our first stop of the morning, and my dad brings his out to the car next. He doesn’t say much, of course, only asks if I’m proud of myself after the way I behaved last night.
“Of course not,” I tell him with a sigh. “I’m on my way to apologize to Loren.” Then he grunts and walks away.
I received similar messages from both my mom and Lilley this morning, though my mom at least cared enough to ask how I was feeling before she recommended that I check in with my sister. Lilley’s message, however, sounded more like “I hope you woke up feeling shittier than our new brother-in-law did during your toast last night, asshole.”
It’s nothing I don’t deserve, I know. And once I got Daisy to reenact my big speech, I actually wished my hangover had been worse.
Now I’m sitting here in Blake’s driveway, staring at the front door.
“Good luck,” Daisy says, reaching over to pat my thigh.
“You’re not coming in with me?” I whine. “You know I’m not good at apologies.”
She shakes her head. “I think you need to handle this one on your own, big boy. Especially if you want to continue playingN’oncleLan to those baby girls.”
I take a deep, fortifying inhale. “You’re right. I just wish I knew what to say to make up for this.”
“Be honest, speak from your heart,” she says plainly.
“And never get to see my nieces again?” I reply, smirking.
“Come on, Landry. You’re obviously sorry for what you said. So tell her that, nothing more and nothing less. She doesn’t need to know why you said it, only that you know it was wrong and you’re sorry for hurting them.”
“But I didn’t mean to hurt them. I was trying to be nice, and it came out wrong.”
“Stop worrying about being misunderstood. This is about making Loren and Blake feel better.” I furrow a brow at her, and she sighs, shifting her position in the passenger seat to face me. “Think of it as triage or first aid. You’re going in to stop the bleeding, and you can treat the minor scrapes and cuts later.”
I shake my head. “How do you do it? You always know the right thing to say.”
She blushes and smiles shyly, obviously pleased. “If only that were true.”
“Maybe you just speak my language, then,” I mumble, and she turns her eyes to mine. My chest warms, so I clear my throat and force myself to look away. “Okay. I’m going in. Wish me luck.”
I don’t wait for her to reply before I get out and walk up to the front door. I knock a few times, but there’s no answer, so I pull out my phone to text Loren. I’d sent her a message earlier saying I’d be there in a while to pick up Blake’s tuxedo, but she’d left me onread.
I knock one more time before I cross my arms and shift my weight, preparing to leave, but the door swings open to reveal my sister wearing a robe and looking disheveled.
“Um, hi. Good morning. I’m here for?—”
She glares and shoves a garment bag at my chest. I take it, and her eyes flutter, a momentary crack in her resolve to stay mad at me. Then she spins on her heels and swings the door closed behind her.
“Lo, wait,” I call out, stepping forward to hold it open. “Can we talk for a second?”
“I’m a little busy.” She crosses her arms and refuses to face me again.
“I know, but?—”
“Can’t keep my husband waiting,” she says as Blake rounds the corner in a pair of shorts. He ignores me and shoots Loren a secret smile that makes me want to gag, but I fight to keep my expression neutral.
“Coming back to bed, Agnes?” he asks in a sultry tone, tilting his head in an invitation.
I lift my sunglasses and cringe at the pain. “I won’t keep you long, I promise. I just want to apologize for last night. Then I’ll leave you to get back to …” I swallow hard and force myself to smile, “your honeymoon activities.”
Blake leans down for a kiss, sliding his hand around to cup Loren’s backside before he pulls away and shoots me a look. I expect to see his trademark cocky grin aimed my way, but I get a silent “hurt her and die” warning instead. It only adds to my overwhelming sense of guilt, and I lower my gaze as I agree to his unspoken terms with a nod.
“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me,” he says quietly before he saunters away.
Loren turns to face me again. “You’ve got thirty seconds.”
