“And?”
“It’s an estimate doesn’t mean they will be done on that date, and I don’t want to get your hopes up.” He puts his hand in mine. “Let’s just enjoy the trip.”
“How do you feel about being here, after the last time?” I ask carefully. I’d meant to ask before we left, but things were non-stop until graduation, and then we got on a plane.
“Calm. She’s not my family, and blocking her felt good.” He squeezes my hand. “Not like we’ll see her. We shouldn’t be over on that side of town.”
It’s an easy and beautiful drive to my grandfather’s property. Late May in Georgia means all the flowers are in full bloom, and it’s warm and green, so different than how we left New York. We have the windows open, and I’m glad to be home for the first time in a long time.
All too soon,the wedding weekend is here, and I’m dreading it. I shouldn’t be, but between my sister’s drama and Mark surely still mad, not only about getting punched in the face, but also us winning the championship, I just know there will be a lot of tension.
We were seated as far from Steph and Mark as possible for the rehearsal dinner, which gives me a pretty good idea of how the wedding will go, and honestly, I hope they just avoid us.
“Who starts the day with pictures?” Wolfe chugs a Dr. Pepper, acting like he’s fighting for his life.
I’m about to ask if he’s hungover when I lay eyes on him. “Why are you dressed like that?”
Wolfe is in what looks like a custom Gods matching Adidas tracksuit, in the team colors sapphire blue with diamond stripesdown the sides. It has his name on it and the team logo. He looks like he just stepped off a soccer pitch.
“Why are you dressed like that?” He nods at the suit.
“For pictures. What’s your excuse?” I cannot even describe the look he’s going for. It’s giving me a headache but also making me a little hard.
“We have an hour drive. You are going to be a wrinkled mess by the time we get there—and annoyed.” He’s got a point. But the idea of bringing it all with us and getting redressed sounds awful.
“Why do you look like you woke up Russian?”
“For maximum comfort, and I’m not getting roped into pictures. Obviously.”
“You remember we’re engaged.”
“Yes, I recall every time I’ve gotten on my knees, thank you. But no one else knows. So I don’t need to be in pictures.” He picks up his suitcase.
“Are you trying to be the fourth member of the Beastie Boys?” I look around like we’re being filmed.
“Huh?” He has to be playing dumb.
“Ali G, maybe? What decade is this?!” I say, because maybe he doesn’t get the reference.
“Why are you acting like it’s suddenly unacceptable to be comfortable? I look hot.” He crosses his arms, making the tight jacket pull over his shoulders and biceps. It’s very distracting.
I’m going to be hard all day. I really have to consider bullying him out of it for my own safety. “Are you forty-five and going to a British soccer game?”
“It’s football if I’m British, and I might be if you keep making fun of my fit.”
“Where did you even get that with the Gods’ branding?”
“They made it for me because I’m the co-captain and I asked the school. Now are you going to stop complaining so I can go make a scene?”
“I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep a straight face around you long enough for you to make a scene.” I adjust my dick.
He raises a brow. “Don’t worry. I’m going to get us matching ones.”
“You wouldn’t dare.” I try to keep my horror off my face so he doesn’t go through with it.
“Won’t I?”
“No, actually, you’re right. I’m not sure.”
