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“Ahh … Douche Bags ’R’ Us doesn’t have any availability for that day, huh?”
I snatch the half-eaten cookie from his hand. “No cookies for smart-asses.” I shove the entire thing into my mouth and expressively munch on it.
He chuckles. “I know you enjoy my slobber and all, but you don’t have to resort to stealing my cookies. Just ask me to make out with you.”
I shoot him a glare. “I’m burning our friendship bracelets.”
“Good thing I have letter beads and strings to make new ones.” He holds up his wrist, showing off his bracelet that matches mine. They’re not beaded or cheesy, just leather bands with our initials on them. It was a Christmas gift from me. “I have plenty with your initials.”
“Yeah, that’s not creepy or anything.”
“Oh, really?” He smirks. “Says the girl who’s stolen nearly my entire wardrobe.”
“Your clothes are comfy.” I shrug before swatting my hand through the air. “Anyway,back to the wedding.”
“Your sister will be there. Say you want to sit at her table. Or simple, don’t go. Why are you even stressing?”
“I’m sorry, but did you forget who my parents are? They’d kill me. And my sister is friends with Faye. They’ll be hanging out, sharing smiles—all that annoying stuff.”
“Eh, I doubt a preacher would kill his daughter. It’d be bad for his image.”
I toss my head back. “They’re all about supporting your loved ones—blah, blah,vomit,blah.”
I set down my empty wineglass, wishing I could pour another, but I only bought one bottle at the store. I hadn’t expected my mother to spring this on me at the last minute. Hell, I didn’t even receive a personal invite. Faye couldn’t care less if I showed up to her wedding. Lord knows, she won’t be receiving an invite to mine. Tattletales have no room in my big day.
“Are you aware of the worst thing about attending weddings solo?”
“Nope,” Rex answers, a sly smile arching on his lips. “Although I have a feeling you’re about to tell me—all dramatic and shit.”
“Everyone asks why I’m single!” I throw my arms in the air. “Even the kids! Shoot, even my grandmother, who suffers from dementia and doesn’t remember anyone in our family,excepther single granddaughter.” I wince. “Do you know how miserable the singles table is?”
“Can’t say I do. Never had to sit at one.”
“Of course you haven’t.” I glower in annoyance. “That will change when you’re eighty and you have no one because you’reso scaredof relationships and too old for a quick fling.”
“Eh, I’ll take my chances.” He ruffles his hands through my hair, giving me a playful grin. “Who knows? We might be single at eighty together, hanging out in the nursing home, stirring up trouble. We’ll have our own singles table. It’ll be lit.”
“Sounds like a better time than going to this godforsaken wedding.”
“I’ll go with you.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Funny.”
Rex offering to tag along isn’t surprising. We’re each other’s sidekicks. I’m there when he has to deal with his father, whose favorite hobby is giving Rex the third degree … and cheating on his mother.
He and Rex don’t exactly see eye to eye—haven’t since Rex was a teen.
“No joke,” he says. “I’ll go. When is it?”
“This weekend.” I wrinkle my nose. “It’s short notice, and I know you have a lot going on.”
“I’m coming. I need a break, and you need a date.”
His phone vibrates, and I see the name Megan flash across the screen when he pulls it from his pocket.
“Your skank is calling,” I comment, leaning over and making a show of reading it.
“Any girl can wait when I’m with you. You know you’re my favorite. My best friend comes before anyone.”
