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“So share them with your stupid friends,” she huffs, jabbing my chest with an acrylic nail as she raises her voice loud enough to draw attention. “Seriously, Matthew, not everything’s about you! This is my bachelorette party, and it’s really unfair that you’re trying to control it.”
Jesus H. Christ.
People are starting to stare—including the guys—and I bite my tongue as I pull out my wallet. Slapping my credit card into her hand, I suppress the urge to snap back. “Alright, okay. I’ll call you an Uber. Get whatever room you want.”
Her plump, overly-inflated bottom lip—yet another thing I paid for—pushes into a pout. “I can’t take the Benz?”
It takes every ounce of strength to keep my voice even. “No.”
After she wrecked the last one running a red light while trying to do her makeup? Not just no, but hell no.
“Fine.” She rolls her eyes before stepping closer, her fingers wrapping around my arm in a vice-like grip. “If I so much as hear a whisper of anything happening between you and a certain someone…just remember our daughter. I’d hate for her to grow up thinking her daddy abandoned her.”
With that, she storms off, her entourage trailing behind her as I fight the nausea threatening to make me sick at her words.
Salem lingers behind, squinting after Valerie with a scowl, and I tilt my head at her.
“Not going with them?”
“Kinda want to hang with you guys,” she mutters, flicking a glare in Logan’s direction. “But I will not be rooming with him.”
Arya bounces on her feet, tugging at the hem of her mini dress. “If I stay, can I still get a spa treatment? My pores are huge.”
“You get whatever you want, bonita,“ Christian says, kissing her neck and making her giggle before pulling me in for a back-slapping hug. “How you holding up, Matty? Everything good?”
One glance sideways at Xed—snickering at something Devon whispers in his ear—and the open lobby suddenly feels too small.
“Yeah,” I lie. “Everything’s good.”
My football career is taking off, I just bought a house in Phoenix, and my daughter is happy and healthy. That’s all any father can ask for, right?
My soon-to-be wife is draining my bank account and my soul, but Hannah’s with me, so none of that matters. My loneliness doesn’t matter.
I don’t matter.
“How’s business going?” I ask Christian, steering the conversation toward the motocross brand he and Taylor launched. Both are pro freestyle riders with a massive social media following.
He grins wide. “Fucking fantastic. We’re taking the stunt bike show on tour next year. Pretty cool shit.”
“If only our marketing manager and business manager would get along,” Taylor calls out from across the room. Salem flips him the bird without hesitation, muttering something under her breath. She handles all their content and social media, managing the brand’s online presence like a pro. Logan, apparently, takes care of the business side of things—whatever that entails.
Tyson appears at my side, startling me a little because I’d forgotten he was here.
“So, we gonna start this party, or just stand in the lobby all day?”
“Right, someone mentioned a strip club?” Devon sidles up with Xed in tow, casually tonguing his lip piercing. My shoulders stiffen instinctively. Never met this guy before today, and I already hate him.
Who the fuck invites themselves to a stranger’s bachelor party?
Huckslee snorts, dark brown eyes rolling as he pulls Taylor into his side. “Very cliché, but I’ll pass. This one wants to bungee jump off the Strat.”
Christian gasps melodramatically. “Without me?!”
“Titties or adrenaline?” Taylor smirks, pointing at his best friend. “Make your choice.”
“That’s cold, cariño. How am I supposed to choose between my two favorite things?”
Arya slaps his arm, pouting. “I’m right here.”
