“A bag for what?” I ask. “Aren’t we all having dinner tonight?”
“Of course,” my mother says.
“We’re getting married tomorrow, which means we won’t be sleeping together tonight,” Lyla says, a glint in her eyes.
I blink. “What? Why?”
“It’s tradition,” Mom says.
“Fuck tradition,” I say. “I’m not spending a night apart from you.”
“It’s one night,” Prescott says.
I glare at him. “I don’t care.”
She rolls her eyes. “Fine. I’ll go to the second floor then.”
“My bed.” I lower my face and suck her lip into my mouth. “Ourbed. That’s not up for negotiation.”
She laughs. “Maybe Pres wants to take you to a strip club or something. This was all so quick that you didn’t have a bachelor party.”
“I don’t need a bachelor party.” I scoff. My entire life was a fucking bachelor party.
“Maybe she wants to go to a male strip club,” Liam says.
My eyes snap to hers. “Do you?”
“Are you going to be one of the strippers?” she asks.
“If you go, I’ll have to be.”
She laughs along with everyone else, but I’m too lost in the sound of hers to pay attention to anyone else.
CHAPTER62
LACHLAN
Henry Duke has enough pullto get an officiant, rent out the rooftop of a popular restaurant, and set it up for a wedding ceremony — complete with fake grass, chairs, and a nice arch of flowers in under twenty-four hours. I’m standing in front of the nice arch right now. Because of my father, they were able to plan all of this in less than a week. I have to say, I’m very impressed. The only hiccup was that the restaurant only let us rent the place out until five o’clock, since they have to open it to the public for dinner. My dad was willing to dish out whatever they asked to cover the cost of dinner, but Lyla freaked when he said that, so he didn’t. He’s already done enough. Besides, five o’clock is perfect. I haven’t even seen Lyla yet, and I’m already dying to whisk her away.
I can’t, though. I need to let her enjoy this. She picked the colors and the music, and pointed at things on the menu my mom showed her. She ran things by Marissa — not me. As long as she’s happy, I don’t really care. She could’ve picked a dirty fucking subway station to get married in and I would’ve agreed. The beginning dun-dun-dun-dun of “Back That Azz Up” starts blasting through the speakers when the door opens, and I’m kind of regretting not sharing my input on the music.
Some of our guests look around in confusion. Behind me, the officiant starts hiding his laugh with a cough. Banks, Mason, Nolan, Logan, and Mae burst out laughing from the seats, and when Marissa and Liam walk out, they’re smiling wide and shaking their heads. My mother, father, Lyla’s dad, Marissa’s parents, and my agent have no idea what’s happening. Thankfully, the song stops before the rap actually comes on, but I’m sure the photographer got a lot of pictures of the confusion and amusement on our faces. Leave it to Lyla. . .
The door opens again and she yells out, “JUST KIDDING!”
This fucking girl. I look at the crowd again, shaking my head, as I laugh along with them. It’s a bigger crowd than we thought. We kept it close friends. Admittedly, most are my friends, but Lyla met the three she didn’t know last night at dinner, and they instantly hit it off. When she saw Nolan, she gave him an accusatory look for messing with her at the finals game in college. He spent at least fifteen minutes trying to piss me off by flirting with her. He did piss me off, but I pretended I didn’t care.
I would have loved to extend an invitation to Cooper and Shit-Head Wade. They would’ve gotten the VIP treatment, front-row seats to watch her marry me. I smile at my petty thoughts. Those guys are inconsequential now that she’s officially mine. Besides, I already created an IG account for Lyla, friend-requested them, and posted two pictures of us together. I’ll have to tell her about the account later, so she can hear it from me and not them.
A Bruno Mars song about weddings replaces the rap song, and part of me expects Liam and Marissa to break out into one of those flash mobs I've seen online. They don't. They're tossing rose petals on the ground as they walk, since they're playing the roles of maid of honor, best man, and flower people, all in one.
When they reach the altar, Ed Sheeran replaces the song by Thinking Out Loud. This song I’ve heard; Mom is obsessed with Ed Sheeran. I glance over at her; sure enough, she’s already crying her eyes out. Lyla’s father, who’s been pointing his phone in the direction of the door, turns to get a better angle. The door opens and Prescott walks out, offering his arm to Lyla. When I see her, I stop breathing. That feeling of watching the puck flying toward the goal rushes through me. I don’t think I’ll cry, but the emotion sits heavy in my chest and throat as I watch her walk toward me, holding a bouquet of gardenias. She’s always the most beautiful person in the room, but this is just. . .wow. Her brown hair is down in waves, and she’s wearing a sleeveless white dress that I can only describe as willowy. It has a deep cut between her breasts, hugs her body up top, and expands at her waist. The bottom is a thin material that I’m sure would be see-through if it weren’t overlapping a million layers of the same fabric. I don’t know what the fuck it is. I don’t care. I’m ripping it off, the moment we leave this place.
She looks at me and smiles when Ed Sheeran says something about falling hard at twenty-three. The emotion in my throat gets harder to swallow past. She starts walking and pauses again when she reaches her father, extending her hand for him to take. He hesitates, like a deer caught in headlights. I’m shocked by this move, and I’m sure he’s ten times more shocked by it. He stands and she holds his arm, walking toward me with both him and Prescott at her sides. Her dad wipes his face. Prescott wipes his face. These fuckers are going to make me cry.
The song fades out when they reach me. Prescott lets go of her and gives me a tight hug that I return. One full of love and gratitude, because he’s been such a good friend. Even though I hated that he warned me about her and didn’t tell me where she was, he kept her safe all these years, and I can never repay him for that. His eyes are filled with unshed tears as he lets go. Her father hugs me next, patting me on the back. When they both walk away, I take a breath and wipe my face to make sure I’m not crying. I’m surprised to find that I’m not. At least not visibly. Lyla smiles as she gives me her hand. It takes everything in me not to pull her against me, right now. It takes even more effort for me not to kiss her.
When we get to the vows, I stop the officiant and tell him I’m going to speak my own. I clear my throat and look into her beautiful eyes.
