Will You Marry Me” comes up on Pandora through the car’s speakers. Pete and Riley start to hoot like a couple of dipshits.
“Coincidence or what? Or what, man?” Pete punches my arm and I punch back with the same force. “Ouch!”
Okay, maybe a little more force than he used. “Don’t be a fucking pussy.” I laugh.
We pull into the church’s parking lot, where we spot the team’s rented Escalade parked already in a spot.
“So what’s this about Melanie having some fucking boyfriend,” Riley says as he jumps off, lifting a box of chocolates from the back of the car and showing them to us. “The name of these is even fancier than Godiva.”
“She told us the boyfriend’s name’s Greyson, remember? And this doesn’t belong to you.” Pete grabs the box of chocolates and puts them in the back of the car, then waits behind the wheel as the top closes.
“Sounds like some asshole. Nobody gives anybody chocolates these days—especially not someone you’re dating. Melanie’s ass is fine without those, I’ll tell you that.”
I punch Riley’s arm so he goes quiet when we walk into the church. People are finishing the touches on the floral arrangements. White. White for my bride.
Brooke.
“Still, I’ll bet he’s some sort of posh—”
I punch Riley lightly again. “Do you love her?” I demand.
“Hell no.” He looks affronted.
“Then stop complaining and let her be happy with this dude.”
“Amen,” Pete says.
I pull out my phone to check the time as Riley and Pete continue discussing the love life of Brooke’s best friend.
“There’s my boy!” Coach slaps my back. “You ready?”
“I was born ready.”
He laughs. “Season starts in two weeks, and we’re going to be ready.”
“I’ll be ready.”
Right now, I’m just ready to get fucking married to my wife.
