Basically, Phoebe needs a man who’ll worship the ground she walks on and then go bust her brothers’ balls.
Good luck with that, pretty Phoebe.
Chuckling, I throw on a pair of comfortable jeans, a cotton T-shirt, and a cashmere crewneck sweater.I light the fire, run the coffee machine, and settle back into my leather Chesterfield sofa.Just as I raise my cup of home-brewed Italian espresso to my lips, there’s a loud banging on my front door.
Gee.I wonder who it could possibly be?
The door flings open, bringing a rush of frigid air into my house.
“Hay….bales.”
It’s Cal.The two words come out as a sinister hiss behind my back.
“Fuckin’ hay bales, man,” Declan adds.
I take a sip of espresso, enjoying as much of the hot elixir as I can before I’m dragged into the wedding chaos.
Dreamily, I wonder if it would have been better if my plane had ditched into the North Atlantic that morning.I imagine clinging to a jagged piece of crash debris while bobbing in the Newfoundland Basin.Anything would be better than whatever this fresh hell is.
Cal and Declan circle around the sofa and stand between me and the fire.Both look defeated and deflated.They’re empty shells of the men they once were.
I try not to laugh, but I can’t help myself.I snort into my espresso cup.
My brothers do the “I see you” thing in unison, pointing two fingers to their eyes and then to mine.
“Get up,” Cal barks.
“He wants the hay bales arranged in a decorative pattern.”Declan’s eyes widen with confusion.“I don’t even know what the fuck that means, bro.”
“Put down the coffee and come with us,” Cal says, his voice humorless.“If you want to live.”
I sigh.I get up, put on my boots, and walk with my brothers to Finn’s house.I step inside to see him running around in a frenzy.There’s all kinds of arts and crafts shit strewn everywhere in his living room.
“You weren’t like this with Victoria,” I whisper to Cal.
“Nope.”He shakes his head slowly.
Cal and Victoria got married in the summer.Yes, he was slightly freaked out on the actual day of the wedding, but mostly he was just happy to marry the woman of his dreams.
They had a small gathering by the lake at sunset and then hosted a laid-back reception with good music and great food.There was zero anguishing over party favors or hay bale positioning.
“Where’s Emma?”I ask.
Declan leans in and whispers, “She escaped.She and Jasmine are over at Dad’s.All the women are watching Christmas movies.”
“How long has he been like this?”
“The whole time you were traveling.It’s been a nightmare,” Declan says.
“Why the fuck isn’t he working with the wedding planner I told him about?”
“Because he’s a control freak,” Cal says, pretending there’s no irony in that insult, since Cal is the king of control freaks.
“I’m going in,” I tell them.
“We got your six,” Cal says.
“Godspeed,” Declan says, pushing me forward.
