Page 91 of The Rules of Dating a Younger Man
“Devyn and I are making progress with the wedding plans. Which reminds me, you guys need to go get fitted for your tuxes.”
I sighed. “Wasn’t it just yesterday that we got fitted for tuxes when Holden got married? Don’t they have our info on file?”
“Doesn’t work that way. They said you have to go in to get accurate measurements.”
“Who’s your best man, by the way?” Colby asked.
Owen smiled over at me. “Brayden, of course.”
My eyes widened. “I am? That’s news to me.”
Owen laughed. “You don’t sound thrilled.”
“It’s not that… You just never asked me.”
“What, do you need flowers and a quartet? Consider this me asking you.”
“I’m surprised, I guess.”
“Who else would it be?” He gestured to Colby and Holden. “These two assholes chose each other. They left us out. So, I choose you, Brayden.” He batted his eyelashes. “I choose you.”
“That’s so romantic,” I teased.
“You win by default,” Owen said.
“Gee, thanks. When you put it like that… You’re making me all emotional,” I said sarcastically.
“And therefore, you’d better pick me when you get married,” Owen noted.
That comment felt like a joke. I won’t be getting married. Not any time in the next decade, at least. I might’ve felt differently if you’d asked me a few months ago. But now? I was pretty damn bitter about love and marriage.
“I wouldn’t hold my breath on that one,” I told him.
Owen squinted. “Who else would you pick for your best man?”
“That’s not what I meant. I was referring to there being a wedding in the cards for me. Especially with my track record lately.”
Holden pointed his beer bottle toward me. “I think your track record is pretty damn good. He met this girl the other night, in fact. She’s basically begging to ride him this coming Saturday. Absolute sure bet. And he’s debating not doing it. Help your brother out here, because he’s going insane. Knock some sense into him.”
Colby turned to me. “You’re hesitating because of Alex? Dude, she’s gone. She closed the door. That’s the harsh reality. You owe her nothing.”
I looked down at my cards, mindlessly arranging them. “I didn’t say it was because of Alex.”
“You don’t need to say it.” Holden frowned. “Sadly, we all know it’s the truth.”
“Let’s get started with the game, please.” I took a long drink of my beer.
Thankfully, the guys did, in fact, turn their attention to the poker game at that point. The conversation drifted away from me, much to my relief.
I ended up the loser of the evening, which pretty much mirrored my place in the game of life compared to my buddies. With the three of them now settled, it put some unwanted pressure on me. But that was the thing about what I’d had with Alex—it had never felt like pressure. I’d wanted to settle down for the first time in my life. I’d never thought I’d feel that way about anyone. Heck, I would’ve even considered moving to Connecticut. That’s how bad I’d had it. Maybe I still did.
When I went over to the fridge to grab another beer, Owen followed me.
His voice was low. “You okay? You seem down, although I understand why. I thought I might be able to cheer you up with the best-man thing. Because seriously, you should be stoked about that—especially having to write a speech.” He winked.
“Don’t get your hopes up for anything eloquent. I feel like a chicken with its head cut off lately.” I cracked open the bottle. “But I’m good. Don’t worry about me. And thank you for asking me to be your best man. I’ll do my best not to fuck it up.”
“Feel free to go easy on me in your speech. I don’t need to be roasted.”