I do what he says, but shoot him a sideways glance. “And risk ending up in something in a jewel tone or velvet at my first public outing with the Creeds? No thanks.”
“You could totally pull off emerald green.”
“Maybe,” I say. “But I decided to stick with black. I don’t know what Pres is wearing. She wanted to surprise me.”
“Kind of like how I was surprised today when I got a wedding invitation in the mail…from my best friend.”
I abandon my bow tie and grab the phone from the dresser. “Shit. I didn’t know those went out already.” Halloween was less than two weeks ago, and nearly every second we haven’t been working or at the bar, Pres and I have been making up for lost time.
I’ve taken her out on at least half a dozen dates—museums, movie theaters, restaurants. We drove to Malibu and walked on the beach. We went bowling with Hendrix and Zara in Hollywood. And we’ve fucked. A lot.
In that time, I meant to tell Jonas. I wasn’t intentionally keeping anything from him. The club is at a point in the development process where I’m not needed every day, and I may have taken advantage of that. I let the real world go for a moment and just enjoyed being happy for once.
I didn’t realize Tilly would end up accidentally telling him for me, but I guess she wants to make sure people have enough time to plan, since it’s right in the middle of the holiday season.
Jonas’s phone is snatched away from him, and Keisha’s face appears. “What my husband is trying to say is, spill. Now.”
I lick my lips, my eyes darting to the bathroom door where my wife is getting ready. A slow, goofy smile creeps across my face. “Oh shit,” Jonas says. “You’re not coming back, are you?”
I shake my head. “No. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“Hell fucking yeah, you are!” Jonas shouts out at the same time his wife yells, “That’s our boy!”
They side hug like they’re congratulating each other for a job well done.
I roll my eyes.
“This mean you’re finally gonna unpack all those boxes you’ve been carrying around?” he asks. “I’ll pay to have all that shit from your storage unit shipped myself.”
I shake my head. “No, not quite yet.”
They give each other a quizzical look, and I don’t offer any more on the subject, so Jonas moves on. “So I’m your best man, right?”
I tug at the tight neck of my shirt collar. So fucking tight. “About that?—”
“What do you meanabout that? You were my best man. Now return the favor.”
Keisha smacks his chest. “It’s not a gift exchange, baby.”
“We’re not having a bridal party,” I explain. “She has too many siblings, and the numbers don’t work out. Too many groomsmen, not enough bridesmaids. Plus, we just want to keep it simple. Her niece is going to be the flower girl, and that’s it.”
A shocked expression paints his face. “So…no best man?”
I give him a knowing grin. Was he really that worried I’d choose someone else? “Nope.”
“All right. I guess I can live with that.”
Keisha pats him on the shoulder, holding back a laugh. “You sure, baby? ’Cause you seemed pretty jealous there for a second.”
I chuckle as I resume the struggle with my tie. I set my phone back on the dresser. “Was not,” he mutters. “Just concerned he was going to put me in some boring ass tux like that.” He gestures toward me, then both his and Keisha’s eyes go wide.
“Oh shit,” Keisha curses. “Nothing is boring about that.”
I turn to see what’s caught their attention. Standing in the middle of the room is my wife in a stunning red satin gown. Her hair is in loose curls and pinned to one side. She’s wearing a pair of sexy red heels, and I swear that slit goes all the way up.
“Jonas, I gotta go,” I say without even bothering to look back. My eyes are glued to the woman in front of me.
“Yeah, you do.” He chuckles, but quickly adds before hanging up, “Happy for you, man.”
