Jeff grips the back of his neck, sucking in a breath. “Yeah. I distinctly remember sleeping on the couch.”
Jensen winces. “Well, I went home with one of the bridesmaids who was Megan’s friend from college. Thank God they aren’t friends anymore.”
Kevin laughs. “Oh, yeah… Jamie Hansen. Good for you. She was hot.”
“I slept with one of the bridesmaids, too,” I say with a grin, remembering how damn good Jordan looked that night. We hadn’t gone together. But we definitely left together.
“And look at you now.” Jensen claps a hand on my back. “Only took you guys thirty years, but, hey—better late than never.”
Heat spreads through my chest, letting that sink in. Christ, I can’t wait to see her. She thought it would be more exciting if we went a few days without each other, to build the anticipation.
It’s built. I’m ready to be with her.
The bridal party, Roman included, flew on my plane andarrived three days ago. I bought the rest of our families first-class seats. Cole came with Jensen’s parents. I thought about bringing him with us, but didn’t think it would be the best environment for a thirteen-year-old boy. Jordan agreed.
And Jordan was right.
“Jesus. Are you about to cry? We’re not even at the wedding,” Kevin says.
I shoot him a glare. “Fuck off.”
“It’s okay if you cry, man. Jensen cried at his wedding.”
Jensen scoffs. “You’re such a dick, Kev. I didn’t cry—I got choked up.”
“Same thing.”
Jeff laughs. “You’re acting like you’ve never teared up at anything.”
“I haven’t.”
“Bullshit,” I say. “Even I got choked up at Jensen’s wedding.”
“He’s soulless,” Jensen mutters. “No wonder he and Meg are so perfect for each other.”
“Careful,” Kevin says. “That’s my wife.”
Jensen just grins.
A beat of silence passes.
“I cried when the kids were born,” Kevin admits. “Does that count?”
“Sure,” Jensen says dryly. “And it almost makes up for you being a dick.”
I glance at my watch. “We’ve got to leave in ten minutes.”
I take a deep breath and step in front of the full-length mirror, assessing myself. Sand-colored suit. White button-down shirt, no tie, collar loose. Silver cuff links. Watch. My grandfather’s necklace. Brown loafers. A good tan.
And I’m having a great fucking hair day.
I clap my hands once. “Let’s fucking do this.”
Jesus.
When Jordan said she wanted to get married in Greece, I honestly didn’t care either way. It was never about the wedding for me. It was always about Jordan.
But holy fuck.
