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Nope. I crumpled that shit and tossed it in the bin. Maddox would probably counter all those points with a not-very-subtle, ‘Thank fuck for me punching Name Brand Jeans Guy.’ I sucked at writing vows. I wish I trusted myself to get a bit drunk; maybe the words would flow more freely.
Maddox,
I hate how much control you have over me. You’re a smug fucking asshole, but—
Shit. Scratch that. I kind of liked his control and didn’t want to lie in my vows.
Maddox,
I promise that I’ll take the next bullet, do the next prison sentence, and learn to cook an actual meal.
Fuck! My pastries. I hopped off the couch, papers scattered everywhere, and checked the oven. Gina had finally taught me how to bake those pastries Maddox loved, but when I opened the door, they were… ruined. Melted, flat, falling apart, and smelled like failure.
“What the hell?” I groaned, pulling out the ruined pan and trying to wave away the smell. “I followed her goddamn recipe. Fuck you, recipe!”
“Jesus, Dev,” Nate complained as soon as he invited himself inside. “What’s that smell?”
I scratched my head, trying to figure out where I went wrong. “I suck at everything. That’s what that smell is,” I huffed, shoving the pan away and turning off the oven. Maddox would never let me live this down, so I’d have to get rid of the evidence and hope the birds would at least eat it.
Nate laughed, grabbing a scrunched-up piece of paper. “Maddox, you’re my favourite fuck-up.” He grinned at me. “That’s your vow?”
I snatched it away from him. “Clearly, I didn’t keep that one. Fuck off about it. You some sort of poet?”
“Shit no,” he laughed. “But neither is Madd. Stop trying so hard and just say what you mean.”
But how? How was I supposed to convey the way I felt about Maddox into some lame speech—er, vow? There wasn’t a word that had come to me yet that encapsulated the feeling. And of course, Maddox had already finished his. I’d searched his pants, all the drawers, the saddlebag on his bike, and the shop to find where he’d written them down, but I came up blank every time. I just needed a clue, something to work off of.
“I’m about to divorce his ass before we even get married,” I complained.
“Why?”
“Because he’s a dick, man. He stole my only clean pair of boxers this morning, wore the jeans I was going to wear, even though I was the one who did the laundry late last night, and he stole the last muffin when he knows I can’t make breakfast to save my life. And he did it all just to piss me off.” And here I was trying to be some stay-at-home husband, baking him treats and failing at it.
“Well, good thing you two thrive on that shit. You’ll find a way to get him back. Wanna order pizza?” Nate sat down at the table.
“If you’re buying. I can’t afford pizza because, apparently, a marriage license costs money.” And Maddox wouldn’t let me touch the savings account. Which pissed me off because I was the one who set it up and started it, and he took control of it like the whole thing had been his idea. If money were up to him, we’d be as broke as a joke with no way out of the hole.
“I’ll buy, but it’ll be from Pizza Construction,” Nate said.
I groaned. That was the shittiest pizza place, but whatever. Food was food when you couldn’t cook. Nate ordered, and then we sat on the front porch to wait. The lawn chairs belonged to Maddox’s mom, and I was pretty sure they were older than me. They were falling apart, but they still stood, so we sat in them.
“Distract me with some of your shit, Nate. What’s up with you and Xav lately?”
“Nothing. I’ll mind my cock, you mind yours.” He waved that off. “We have other shit to talk about.”
I waved my hand, telling him to get on with it.
“Hanes said the contraband is being moved in three days to a new facility. So, if shit is gonna go down that day, we need to talk about what we want to do with… Jim.”
Well, that sullied my already terrible mood. “Like get him arrested or kill him?”
“Yeah, like that.”
Good question.
I might've been able to kill my dad if the situation called for it. Like if it was a life or death thing, or if I didn’t do something, someone else I cared about would die, but I didn’t think I could kill him point blank without a dire situation. Maddox told me he’d kill me if I even tried, so there was that, too. He thought it’d mess with my head, and maybe he was right. Patrick Harris all but offered to have him offed and help with the cover-up, so was that something I could stomach? Hire a sketchy hitman and hope it went off without a hitch?
“What do you think?” I asked Nate.
