“You still might end up handcuffed to the bed.”
I say it like a joke, but it isn’t one, and Freddie doesn’t smirk. He’s watching me intently, and I have to think fast to get out of this mess, come up with another reason why we can’t be his best men. But I can see him poised to argue against me.
“Can you really see Liam doing a speech?” I gesture to my brother. “He’ll terrify the guests.”
“He doesn’t need to do a speech.” Freddie looks over at Liam. “I’m not expecting you to. I just want you to be there with me at the top of the aisle.”
“I’m not reliable,” I blurt. “I’ll lose the rings or get the day wrong.”
Freddie slides along in the booth, putting distance between us. “Cut the crap. If this is a joke, Ryker, it’s a shit one. Even shitter than usual.”
That stuns me silent. Freddie rarely loses his temper, but I know he’s angry from how he glares at his drink and flexes his fingers around it like he’s contemplating crushing the glass or throwing the contents at me.
“You don’t want to be my best men.” he says, nodding to himself. It’s as if he needs to say it for the idea to sink in, and I fight the urge to call this whole thing off, tell him of course we do, but I can’t.
“Why?” he asks.
He looks at me, and he doesn’t want excuses or jokes, he wants the real reason. It’s there. I could tell him we’re in love with him and seeing him getting married to Keegan will be too painful for us, but it’s a selfish reason and would change our friendship forever.
He waits, and I falter. I crumble and avert my gaze.
“She isn’t right for you,” Liam says.
My jaw drops open.
“Excuse me?” Freddie shakes his head. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means exactly what I said.” Liam offers no other explanation and takes a gulp of beer, leaving me to come up with something to say. My brain is spinning out, firing up useless neurons that don’t help with this situation whatsoever. Freddie is waiting for me to speak, to make sense of Liam’s blunt words.
“He means you haven’t been together long,” I say, and it’s bullshit. Freddie is ready with his counteroffensive.
“Almost two years,” he hisses. “You haven’t had a relationship that’s lasted longer than a night, andyou’retellingmeI’m rushing it?”
“I don’t do relationships,” I say. “I do—”
“Quickies in bathroom stalls. I know.”
I do.
What’s the point in denying it?
But Freddie said it with a sneer, which is so unlike him.
“Hey,” Liam snaps. “Lower than tone.”
Which is ironic considering he’s practically frothing at the mouth when he speaks. Freddie coils like a snake. He may be smaller than us, but he doesn’t back down, and he’s cornered, trapped between me and Liam in the booth. It does something to me, makes me shift closer to him, and I notice Liam doing the same. We want to reach for him, contain his rage, capture it while it consumes him, then defuse it with our touch.
But from the outside it looks like we’re gearing up for a physicalfight.
“No. I will not lower my tone,” Freddie says slowly, and I hear Liam’s teeth click in his mouth. They tap together as he hunches over ready to leap. “You’ve been with for Keiron for six years—”
“On and off,” Liam interrupts.
Freddie powers on. “It’s not my fault you don’t want to take it any further.”
Liam narrows his eyes to slits. “By choice.”
“Fine, by choice. This is my choice. I’m going to marry the love of my life.”
