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“Also wanted to thank you for coming today.” Jamie cleared his throat. “And for helping make all this possible.”
Nic couldn’t find the words, surprised into silence for the second time today. Jamie’s olive branch made little sense, especially after the seeming falter in his earlier smile. Or maybe he’d only imagined that. “I don’t—”
“Last spring could have gone very differently. You played a big part in making it go the right way, rescuing Aidan and Katie and getting us all cleared.” He held out his hand. “I owe you for that, Price. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Nic said, shaking it, and hoping he didn’t sound as off-kilter as he felt, this whole day like someone else’s life. Certainly not his. “Try and make sure Aidan relaxes some on the honeymoon?”
“You help hold down the fort here, and I’ll see what I can do.”
“It’s a deal.”
The bartender set a Paloma next to the beers, and Jamie warily eyed the drinks. “Try and make sure they don’t ruin the Chevelle too.”
“Your best friend thinks the beer should be green. He’s not giving me a lot to work with.”
Jamie rolled his eyes. “Rag him about the Patriots,” he said, mischief dancing in his gaze. “That’ll make him forget all about the green beer. And hopefully also about ruining our car.”
“That sounds like fun,” Nic said, likewise feeling up to some mischief. “Give us twenty minutes?”
With a nod, Jamie wandered back to his new husband, and Nic grabbed the three beer bottles by their necks and the Paloma in his other hand. He followed the cobblestone path around to the front of the hotel where Danny and Cam had annexed one corner of the valet area, the former tying growlers, wrappers, and soda cans to the back of the Chevelle, while the latter shook a spray can of whipped cream. For her part, Mel sat perched on the fountain ledge, bouncing one knee over the other as she monitored the children. Nic handed the Paloma to her first, then took the beers over to the guys.
“I have a question,” he said, standing next to Cam near the hood of the car. “Who’s the better quarterback, Montana or Brady?”
Cam whipped his head around so fast they almost bumped noses. “You really wanna have this argument with me?”
“I asked the question, didn’t I?”
“Brady. No question.”
“Oh, that’s my cue!” Danny straightened from tying on the last growler. “Definitely Montana.”
The argument roped in even Mel, who, as a Miami native, lobbied hard for Marino. It was enough to keep the troublemakers outside the car and limited the whipped cream shenanigans to IRISH & WHISKEY on the hood and JUST MARRIED on the back windshield.
“Well played,” Mel whispered to Nic as they stood on the edge of the wedding crowd twenty minutes later.
Clover and rainbow confetti showered the grooms as they hustled out, and Jamie mouthed aThank youover his shoulder at Nic. Cam tossed the beach house keys through the window, and Jamie revved the engine, peeling away to raucous applause.
Crowd dispersing, Danny held an arm out to Mel. “Another dance, wife?”
She looped her elbow through his. “Twist my arm, husband.” They joined the group of guests headed back to the lawn, Cam with them.
Nic, unfortunately—or maybe not, as he’d had enough socializing for one day—needed to check in on his case. He was waiting at the elevators when a shout of “Dominic!” rang out behind him.
Cam stalked across the lobby toward him, visibly perturbed that Nic had tried to duck out early. “I’m not done arguing with you.” Or maybe he just wanted to go another few rounds. “Let’s talk Super Bowls. Number of appearances?”
Nic played along for the chance to get the last word. And he was going to get it. He’d saved his ace in the hole, anticipating Cam wouldn’t let this drop. Arguing was what they did best, after all. “Four,” he answered.
“Eight for Brady. Super Bowl MVPs?”
“Three,” Nic answered as Cam stepped past him into the elevator.
“Four.” Cam hit the button for his floor, then Nic his. “Super Bowl wins?”
“Four.” Nic bit the inside of his cheek, holding back the question he wanted to ask so badly.
“Five,” Cam shot back. “Brady’s got him beat, hands down.”
“Okay, Boston, here’s one for you... How many times did Montanalosea Super Bowl?”
