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By the time I get off the phone, I’m pacified, even encouraged. But before I have a chance to check on Uncle Eddie, Brando intercepts me in the kitchen of the house that still smells faintly of Aunt Martina’s coconut crunch.
“Thank goodness you’re here,” he says.
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah. You won’t believe it. The Driftwood is reopening.” My cousin is tall, dark, and handsome with a poet’s heart. But he does not wear his on his sleeve. Even after all these years and how close we are, I’ve never been able to tell whether he’s serious, joking, or somewhere in between.
“I didn’t know it was closed.”
“Tonight is the grand opening. Go put on something nice.”
I playfully slug him in the arm. “Are you saying my leggings and T-shirt aren’t nice?” If we’re heading out, maybe my sister’s concerns were unfounded. Fingers crossed, my uncle is okay.
“You look great, but maybe a dress. It’ll be fun.”
“I didn’t sign up for fun. I came here to relax and check on your dad, but you’re here so?—?”
“Dad is fine-ish.”
“So maybe I shouldgo say hi.”
“He’s at puzzle night. We’ll all have breakfast tomorrow. We have to hurry.”
And that is how I end up at Royal McGregor’s wedding. He’s Ryan McGregor’s twin brother. It’s also technically the soft opening of the resort…and you’d better believe Brando is going to pay for tricking me into this after I’m done steering clear of my nemesis.
Ryan
CHAPTER 2
I can’t believe my twin is married. The wedding was awesome. I know that’s kind of a cheesy word to describe such a momentous event, but I’m not known for my flowery prose. That would be my best friend, Brando.
The guy can turn a phrase. However, what he failed to mention when we caught up ahead of Royal’s big day was that he was bringing his cousin.
The one, the only, the infamous Harley Jean Owens.
Seeing her earlier threw me off, made me dizzy. But she did her best to avoid me, so I know where I stand.
And it’s not at the end of the aisle. Not yet.
Magnus, my older brother, is also getting married soon and says it’ll be a small, intimate affair in Coco Key.
I’ve never seen my grumpy and stoic brothers, that’s Royal and Magnus respectively, so happy. It’s weird.
That leaves CJ and me. Turns out, I’m next. Wish it weren’t so.
I’m close to hitting some Football Hall of Fame records, but this probably takes the cake for the shortest engagement ever. Case in point, Royal and Isla probably haven’t yet left for theirhoneymoon and I’m already at my bachelor party looking for escape routes.
My brothers aren’t here.
They don’t know.
To my shame and embarrassment, this wasn’t part of my life plan—not that I had much of one beyond football.
It went like this: I’m in my mid-thirties and the oldest guy on the team. The assistant coach has a daughter my age who was single. Apparently, to him and his wife, that’s too old and so they not-so-tacitly rushed me into this. My contract is up for renewal and he suggested I’d be off the team if I didn’t agree.
I should’ve laughed in his face and told him to look for a new job. But because of my lack of a post-football life plan, I froze. I’m nearing retirement anyway and don’t want my last seasons to be for a different team.
The thing most people don’t know about the sport is the extent of the politics—there’s a disturbing amount of glad-handing and blackballing. I’ve mainly avoided that by being a golden boy—at least on the field. Maybe a little too golden, because assistant coach Webster thought I was a worthy candidate for his daughter’s hand in marriage.
