“This is fun,” another guy chimes in while leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, clearly enjoying the show. He has the faintest French accent. “I’ve never heard Wally talk this much before.” He turns to me. “I’m Maxime Beaumont.”
We shake hands—firm grip, solid eye contact.
“Yeah, I’m afraid you guys will have to introduce yourselves,” I say. “My brother has lost his manners along with his goalie skills.”
A collective “oooh” goes around the room, and James says, “Shots fired!”
I just wink at Noah, who shakes his head. He knows I’m only stirring the pot. We’re brothers. And competitive athletes. It’s what we do.
Next, I meet their captain, Caleb Hawthorne, a tall guy with dark brown hair, Baptiste Marchand who just joined the team this year, and Aaron Miles, who sports a buzz cut and has arms like tree trunks. It’s weird, meeting my brother’s teammates after all this time. He doesn’t talk about them much, but now I can finally put faces to “the guys.” Noah hasalways been a bit of a loner and a grump, so I had my doubts when he claimed he had actualfriendsin the US.
But these blokes? They’re solid. They remind me of my own team—jabbing at each other, talking trash, swapping stories like they’ve known each other since birth. It may seem weird, but I’m happy to see that my brother has all that with his own team, and well, now he has Grace too.
I don’t know how long we stand around chatting and laughing, but eventually Mum appears at the door again, flapping her arms like she’s directing air traffic.
“We’re starting in five minutes!” she says, already halfway down the hallway before we can respond.
The hockey players peel off to find their women and take their seats, leaving Noah and me alone in the room.
“Nervous?” I ask, straightening my bow tie when I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
He rakes a hand through his hair. “No. Just want to get this over with, you know?”
“Not really your style, huh?” I chuckle, patting his enormous shoulder. Then, I sigh, shaking my head. “To be honest, when you told us you were getting married legally back in January and that you’d have a ceremony here in the UK, I didn’t believe it. Thought it was the perfect scheme to avoid the whole shebang.”
The corner of his lips twitch. “Well, that was the plan. But Grace…”
“Ah, yes.” I nod. “Now it all makes a bit more sense. Well, I’m glad you gave in. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have the privilege of roasting you at the reception.” I lean back against the wall, smirking.
He just shakes his head. “Fine. I’ll just have to get back at you at your wedding.”
I laugh. “I don’t even have a girlfriend, bro. Could be years before you get your chance.”
“I’m a patient man,” he says in that cool, collected tone I’ve always envied. I’m all energy and chaos when I talk—emotions on full display—but Noah has the uncanny ability to stay calm. Like nothing fazes him.
“Who knows if I’ll evenhavea wedding,” I say. “Maybe I’ll just elope.”
“You? Elope? Nah, you’re the guy who’d be arriving on a throne at his wedding or something. The actual definition of ‘whole shebang.’”
I wince, then cough out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Someone knocks at the door.
“Time to go!” Mum’s voice rings out from the corridor.
I push off the wall. “All right. Let’s go get you married, then.”
We march into the barn, and the place is packed. Guests line the benches, laughing and chatting while throwing fleeting glances toward the barn door, not wanting to miss a second of the big moment. I wave at Finn. He’s seated toward the end, but his head sticks out since he’s taller than most.
Mum settles in the front row, all smiles, and gives Noah a thumbs-up. That’s when the music starts. We all turn to the entrance of the barn, but it’s not Grace who steps in. Instead, wearing a light pink dress and a glowing smile that practically illuminates the entire room is none other than Katherine Lennox. She’s holding a bouquet to her chest, shuffling purposefully down the aisle, and she’s never looked more stunning.
A muffled laugh escapes me. “You have got to be kidding me.”
Kat must hear me, or maybe she just noticed my presence, because she stops dead in her tracks, staring at me like she’s just seen a ghost. Then, a small smile breaks through, and she starts walking again.
Noah glances at me. “What?”
“She’s my neighbour.”
