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“Look at her!” Scribe gasped, pointing his finger at Henley, who stood next to Frank shaking her head in disbelief.
The second Henley appeared in her wedding dress. Scribe lost the plot. If it weren’t for King and Bailey, the man would have fainted right then and there, but nothing could have prepared us for when he started hyperventilating, which had everyone roaring with laughter.
“We can all see her, dickcheese. What’s the fucking problem?”
“She’s fucking gorgeous!”
“And?” I asked.
“I don’t deserve her,” Scribe gasped, hyperventilating again.
“That’s for damn sure,” Devlyn sneered, disgusted, which caused several of the brothers to laugh louder.
“Not helping, Dev,” I huffed as I pushed Scribe’s head back down between his legs and spoke, “Into the bag, Scribe. In and out.”
“This is crazy,” Devlyn argued. “The wedding hasn’t even started, and he’s lost his damn man card. Seriously, Sis, you can do way better.”
“Shut up, Devlyn,” Henley hissed, kneeling before Scribe. “We can do this later if you’re not ready, Scribe. We don’t have to get married today.”
“Oh yes, he does!” Freyja shouted, pushing past everyone to stand before her panicking brother. “Get the hell up, Dimeter.”
“Why, what’s the rush?” Priest asked, shaking his head as he tried unsuccessfully to hide his mirth.
“Because Dimeter has to be married before I can get married.”
“Oh, here we go again,” Phoebe groaned, then added, “Freyja, it doesn’t matter who gets married first.”
“Yes, it does,” Freyja screeched. “If I go to Mardi Gras and Dimeter isn’t married, then I won’t meet my guy, and I refuse to let my wimp of a brother mess with my life.”
“Like you messed with his?” Bailey challenged.
“That’s different,” Freyja interjected. “Dimeter needed a push. I’m the oldest. It’s my job to push.”
“No, you interfered, just like you always do,” Phoebe stated.
“I did not!”
“Mom,” Scribe groaned as Stevie sighed, stepping forward. “Girls. Now is not the time. Your brother is having an existential crisis and needs us clear-headed so we can help him through this. Now, Son, you did complete the pre-marital ritual, right? Tell me you cleansed your little dangly boy bits with the soap I sent you and you walked in the moonlight naked?”
“MOM!” Scribe shouted loudly causing everyone to bend over, laughing hysterically as tears ran down all their faces.
“Well, Son, I told you it was the only way to cleanse your body from all those other unsavory women.”
Henley snickered, looking up at me.
“Dad, help me out here,” Scribe pleaded.
Woody just stood there, shaking his head in disgust. “Face it, Son. We’re outnumbered. Always have been and always will be. Best not fight them.”
“Well, Dimeter, did you do as you were told?” Stevie questioned.
“Mom, we are not talking about my manly bits in front of company!”
“Everyone here is family. There is no need to be embarrassed.”
“Stevie’s right, Scribe,” King wheezed, trying to control himself as Gunner held his stomach, gasping for air. “We’re family. What else was he supposed to do, Stevie?”
“Well, he should have also—”
