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In solidarity, I decide to wear the outfit Samantha wants without comment, floral tie and all. I shoot Kyle a look and find him grinning about the whole situation. He must think all this is fucking hilarious because he doesn’t do fancy clothes, serious events, and empty traditions.
He missed that mandatory dinner completely because he likes to do things that’ll piss Dad off, and no-showing a family meal basically puts him at number one on Dad’s shit list. But since Dad’s not coming to the fitting appointments, Kyle was right on time, arriving on his loud motorcycle, wearing dirty jeans and a tank top, with mud on his boots and days’ worth of scruff on his face. He said he spent the morning ‘working’ and when we asked ‘on what?’, he’d smirked and answered ‘Maggie’s house.’
My brothers had rolled their eyes and grumbled about him having a latest and greatest woman who’ll probably only last the week, and Kyle hadn’t denied it. But I secretly keep up with my family, and I know Maggie’s House is the dog rescue Kyle volunteers at, usually taking shelter dogs on socialization playdates with his dog, Peanut Butter, but occasionally doing work on their kennel area. Which makes me hope that’s actually mud on his boots and not dog shit.
I sniff, not smelling anything foul, so odds are fair to good that it’s dirt. This time.
“My turn?” Kyle offers as the tailor finishes measuring Carter. She blushes when Kyle toes off his boots and steps onto her pedestal in his socked feet. “Do your worst... or best. Your call,” he tells her with a wink, and I swear she blushes even more. Most of the time, Kyle’s ninety percent charming bullshit and ten percent serious guy. Every once in a while, that’ll switch, but it takes a lot for him to be sincere about anything, and wedding attire isn’t enough to warrant it.
While Kyle gets measured, he meets my eyes in the mirror. “A birdie told me you’ve got a new lady love.”
That bird’s name is Kayla. She probably filled him in on everything he missed at dinner. I hate that she does that because she’s not his fucking secretary and it only enables him to continue to flake on us.
“Yeah.” If he wanted more info, he should’ve been at dinner. I know I’m one to talk—well, okay, not talk, but judge—but I show up at least. I might stay on the outskirts, not share anything, and dip early, but I come for the important shit. Unlike Kyle.
“Luna said Janey’s got you wrapped her around her little finger,” Carter offers, wiggling his pinkie in the air. “Drawing her baths, cooking her dinner, and playing hero with grand gestures in front of her family.” I can almost hear Luna’s description in his words, but where Carter makes it sound like I’m a pussy, I’d bet my left nut that Luna made it sound romantic. She’s an author, and while she specializes in action graphic novels, she’s a lover at heart. And Carter has less than zero room to give me shit because I know Luna has him doing Disney sing-alongs on the regular. Wrapped? Yeah, he is.
Chance chuckles. “To hear Samantha tell it, you’re an obsessive asshole who fucked her, bailed, and then stalked her to get her back. She seemed to think a police report and possible restraining order were good ideas.”
Kyle’s hanging on every word, and I wonder what Kayla’s version was, but he doesn’t offer any details, only asking, “Which is it?”
With a nonchalant shrug, I admit, “Both.”
Laughing, Kyle says, “Sounds about right.” But he must move with the laughter because he hisses an instant later and the tailor, who’s at his back, winces.
“Sowwy,” she says, her mouth full of pins again. I wonder if she’s ever swallowed one? It seems like a dangerous way to go about her work, but what do I know? “Almosth done.”
“Catch me up. What’s she like?” Kyle asks.
“Most importantly, mine,” I snap. Kyle can’t help it, women flock to him. They always have. Over the years, especially when we were younger, more than a couple of ex-girlfriends asked if I’d hook them up with him after our breakup, which I always declined. As far as I know, when a girl I’ve dated approached him directly, Kyle told them to fuck off too. But Janey’s different and I don’t want any misunderstanding.
Kyle holds both hands up, causing the tailor to inhale sharply. I think she pokes him on purpose this time, but he brushes it off with a glance her way. “No worries, bro. I meant like... how’d she get you all...like that?” He waves his hands in my general direction, indicating my current mood, which isn’t all too different from my usual mood.
That’s not true.
Normally, I would’ve wanted to go first for the fittings, get the hell outta dodge, and not fuck with all this brotherly love shit. But here I am, willingly going last and hanging out with my brothers for the better part of the day. The entire day. I can’t remember the last time I did that. If I ever did.
I’m quiet for too long, but my brothers are patient fuckers and wait me out until I finally admit, “She’s different. She sees good in everything, even me, and it’s kinda nice to not think the world is a shithole for a change.”
Nobody says anything. Even the tailor freezes. And all eyes are on me.
Fucking annoying people. I should’ve stuck with my usual—make it short and get gone.
The room bursts into rowdy teasing with everyone talking over each other.
“Hell, that was nearly poetic, man!” Cameron quips.
“She sees good inyou?” Carter says, making it sound like that’s impossible.
“Ah ma gawd,” the tailor mutters.
“Wow.” Short and simple, to the point... that’s Chance.
But it’s Kyle who responds with the most sincerity, not sounding like he means it any other way than with kindness. “Can’t wait to meet her.”
I acknowledge Kyle with a grateful nod, ignoring my other brothers’ shit-stirring.
After a moment, Chance clears his throat. “Much as I hate to interrupt this love fest, Marvin and Noah are going to be here soon. Can we please not act likeusin front of them?”
