The Worst Wedding Date

I’m setting up chairs on the lanai for Emma’s wedding when Dad and Uncle Owen join me about an hour after Laney left with the bridesmaids.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding,” Dad says.

“Don’t think this is hiding,” Uncle Owen says. “Looks more like he’s doing the resort’s work.”

“Not what Emma was thinking it would be, is it?”

“Not compared to those pictures.”

Dad claps me on the back, then heads to the cart of chairs and starts helping too. “Hawaii treating you good, son?”

“Yeah.”

“Looks like it’s not just Hawaii,” Uncle Owen says while he, too, joins in to help.

Both men grin gleefully at me.

“Ready to see Em married off?” I ask, ignoring the questions they’re not asking about Laney.

“All she’s ever wanted.” Dad hefts a chair under each arm. “Know it’s tough on you, always wanting the best of the best for her and thinking nobody will ever live up to that, but it’ll all work out. This time next year, we’ll be fighting over who gets to hold her first baby, and nobody’s gonna care what went down at this wedding.”

“Hope it looks like Em,” Uncle Owen interjects with a cackle.

“No worries then?” I ask.

Dad shakes his head. “Your mom would be so proud of everything she’s done.”

Not helpful.

One of us has blinders on, that’s for sure.

Probably me.

And telling myself Laney’s having doubts doesn’t help. That’s my fault too.

She wouldn’t be if I wasn’t influencing her.

“Sure would,” I agree with Dad.

“You and Laney keep looking at each other the way you have been, and we’ll be doing this again in another fourteen years,” Uncle Owen says.

I don’t laugh at the implication that Laney and I will be the next Chandler and Emma who date forever without getting married. Nothing about that is funny today.

Dad doesn’t laugh either.

Just keeps setting up chairs.

Need to check on the catering staff in the bistro kitchen after a while. Won’t have as many flowers as Emma wanted, but she has an arched trellis.

Don’t know where Chandler is.

Glad he’s not here. He’d probably tell me I’m setting up the chairs wrong.

“Funny, being at weddings,” Uncle Owen says. “Wasn’t it a wedding where Charles Kingston had an affair with Sherry Sullivan about the right number of months before the triplets were born?”

I choke on air.

“Funeral,” Dad corrects.

I look at both of them.

Neither looks at me.

“Oh, that’s right, that’s right,” Uncle Owen says.

“I’m not listening to any of this,” I tell them both. “I don’t want to know any of this.”

“Probably should,” Dad says.

“Gonna need your own ammunition if anyone tries to tell you you’re not good enough for their daughter,” Uncle Owen chimes in.

Dad nods. “Ugly, but true.”

“Not interested,” I tell them both. “But thank you.”

“They’re gonna hold a lot against you, son,” Dad says. “Different world. Different rules.”

Fuck.

Even if Laney will listen and hear me out when I tell her about my GrippaPeen channel, will her parents?

Will they cut her loose from the company if she picks me over them?

She loves her job. Works hard at it. Dreams about it.

“You two mind finishing this up?” I ask. “I gotta make sure the minister’s on the way.”

“We’re trying to help,” Uncle Owen says as I head off the lanai.

“Don’t want you at a disadvantage,” Dad chimes in.

It grates on me when they don’t give me credit for turning my life around the past ten years.

But they usually do.

Which means—I turn back around. “You two have something more direct you want to say?”

“We were pretty direct,” Uncle Owen says.

“Not what he’s talking about, Owen,” Dad mutters.

“Oh. He means the…other thing.”

“Yes.”

“The…naked thing.”

Dad sighs.

“How—who—never mind.”

“Emma was a little tipsy last night,” Dad says.

“She didn’t mean to slip,” Uncle Owen adds. “And we’re more tight-lipped than Sabrina.”

“We just know that there are certain expectations of people in the business world that are different than—”

“I’m not going into the business world.”

They share a look.

Then look back at me.

I know they mean well.

I know they do.

But right now, I feel like a teenage disappointment again.

“We’ve got your back, son,” Dad says.

“But we know we might not be enough,” Uncle Owen adds with a grimace.

I blow out a slow breath and head off the lanai again.

Liked yesterday a lot better.

This time yesterday, Laney was having an orgasm over bacon.

Now, the smoothie I had for breakfast is sitting wrong in my stomach. “When you’re done with the chairs, go see if you can find some extra flowers in the open closet behind the bistro,” I call over my shoulder.

I don’t want to check on catering.

I don’t want to check on the minister and the photographer and the music.

I don’t want to check on the last-minute wedding cake that I almost had to offer sexual favors to get, and yes, I told Laney that story last night after I was feeling better about almost killing her dad, and yes, she laughed her ass off before kissing me until I forgot anything wrong has ever happened in the history of the world.

But I want my sister to have the best day of her life.

And I’m too up in my head as I head toward my rental car, which means I don’t see what’s coming until it’s too late.

Chandler.

And the triplets.

Thought he’d be golfing.

“One of you want to make sure he doesn’t light my clothes on fire?” Chandler asks while he steps to the far edge of the walkway.

He’s carrying his bug zapper.

“Chand my man,” Lucky says, “this is the time when you have to deal with it if Theo here does the obligatory pre-wedding don’t hurt my sister or I’ll kill you thing.”

“It’s a rule,” Decker agrees.

“Even groomsmen can’t stop it,” Jack adds.

Chandler eyes me. “Gonna be like that?”

“Just looking for lunch.”

“You turned pussy since you started getting paid to be naked,” Chandler says.

“Whoa, man, we’ve got your back, but that might be too far,” Lucky says.

“Do you want to get your wedding canceled?” Jack adds. “Even Em has limits.”

Heat flashes across my face.

Not because Chandler jilting Emma is suddenly at the top of my brain.

More because none of the triplets look surprised. Or confused.

Dad and Uncle Owen know about GrippaPeen. The triplets know about GrippaPeen. Sabrina knows about GrippaPeen.

So who doesn’t know?

And what happens when someone tells Laney first?

What happens when someone tells her parents first?

I like my life.

I make a difference in the world.

But that’s not enough anymore. I want to make a difference in Laney’s world.

“I’ll handle this one for you, Chandler,” Decker says. “Way better if I’m the one in a fight before your wedding.” He grabs me by the collar and pulls me up the walk past his brothers and Chandler.

“I’m not going to fight you,” I mutter.

“Dude’s getting cold feet,” he mutters back. “We’re not letting him out this easy.”

“Swear to god, if he hurts Emma—”

“We know.”

I side-eye him.

“We know,” he repeats. “And for what it’s worth, we’re rooting for you whenever you tell Laney. That’s gonna be…well, even more awkward than successfully flirting with her would’ve been. Guess it’s a good thing you’re probably not her half-brother.”

“Can I go check on the fucking wedding cake now?” I say through gritted teeth.

“Oh. Yeah. Good idea. Sorry about Chandler. He’s allergic to weddings. He’ll be better once he gets through the ceremony. More normal. Swear he will.”

Doubt that.

Nothing will ever be normal again.

I like change.

But I don’t know if I’ll like the change that’s coming from what this week has been.