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No custom does.
The way I was raised--first by my father and then by Gramps--where the wind blew me was about as traditional as I got.
That is why I had no trouble canceling my bachelor night, much to the disappointment of my co-groomsmen, Thomas and Justin. When I reminded them we had gone to Vegas a month ago, that shut them up.
Especially Justin.
After a long dinner and bottle service at a nightclub, Thomas and I had left him in the company of a showgirl. Heshowed upjust before my flight attendant retracted the boarding stairs.
Thomas joked that Justin had almost stayed in Vegas. Justin gave him a sour laugh, closed his crusty eyes, and slept the entire flight back to New York.
And that is exactly what I want to do today. Sleep. Tomorrow is my big day and I shouldn’t have to bend to the will of others.
Yeah, I’m a groomzilla, and I don’t care.
Who sounds like Tyler now?
Me. An almost thirty-year-old man.
Again, I don’t give two fucks.
With the determination of a soldier going to war, I duck walk into the kitchen to tell Nick I am done for the day, even though we haven’t gotten started.
I find my future father-in-law sitting at the Formica breakfast table with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand. The frayed neon-yellow notepad he’s used to cross off destinations stares up at me, malice written on every page.
“Oh good, you’re up.” Nick beams at me from under his bushy eyebrows. “I have a lot planned for us.”
My petulance withers under his smile. Sin has never balked at anything my family has asked of her. What gives me the right to do the same?
“Sure, Nick,” I say, hyperaware my feet have turned icy under the table.
His amused glance, so much like his daughter’s, turns my frown upside down even before I’ve heard what he has to say. “An Uber will be here within the hour. Can you be ready at that time?”
An Uber? No walking?
My interest piques. “Where are we going?”
“Why should the women have all the fun?” Nick says, his blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve arranged for us to have a spa day, too. My treat!”
Did the man get shot by the arrow of pity?
Whatever has changed his heart, I won’t question it. Instead, I grab a cup of coffee and join him at the table. “I never figured you for a metrosexual, Nick.”
He laughs and sets his empty mug on the table. “Rachel always complains I take more time in the mirror than she does.” His look turns sheepish as he says, “Besides, I couldn’t take one more day of walking. Could you?”
I pause mid-sip and confess, “Hell to the mf-in no.”
The wedding day is like my mood, bright and sunny. Thanks to the intervention Nick planned yesterday, I arrive at the cathedral church… more than ready for the long, long night ahead.
Those weeks Sin and I were apart while she prepared for her move from Texas was nothing compared to last night without her. As relaxed as I was, I couldn’t get to sleep. All I kept thinking was how I wanted her in our bed. With me.
Tonight, when I get her there…
I jerk my thoughts away from that line of thinking. I’m in church after all.
And the place is packed, filled to the gills with friends, family, and acquaintances from the world over. Though nowhere near the numbers of my first wedding—the one that didn’t take place with me as the groom.
My cousin had that honor.
