“Evie’s career as a songwriter is just taking off and she’s still running Tice Social. What if I’m standing in her way? What if being married drags her down.”
He opened his eyes. Jay was still the color of Japanese tea and they were still in Hayden and Teela’s guest room and Grip was wearing a suit he’d had to have tailored. He looked suave as fuck.
“That’s the old idea Errol sold you. Convinced you to leave Evie so she could focus on her career. It was wrong then, it’s wrong now. You both know that.” It was nearly the end of Evie’s relationship with her dad when she found out.
Jay looked at his shoes. “What if it’s not wrong now?”
Grip’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He stared at Jay. This was no dream and his closest friend was not messing about. “Hold on.” He took his phone out, on screen a text from Evie. We’ve got a problem.
No shit we do.
“Hang here,” he said to Jay. Don’t do anything but look pretty. “I’ll be back.
He left Jay to brood and wound his way to the other side of the house where Evie was. He had to scoot past the doorway to the deck where everyone was waiting. Mena was out there. He hadn’t seen her since she devoured his ricotta pancakes at breakfast. He almost detoured just to catch a glimpse of her all dressed up, but being the bridesman was his first responsibility, so he knocked on the door to the room where Evie was waiting and barged in.
There were dogs, and Evie wasn’t exactly dressed like he thought a bride would be dressed but this was Evie so who knew if brides got married in black these days. It wasn’t like he was experienced at weddings.
“What kind of a problem?” he said. He needed to scout a solution and get back to Jay, before the guy tossed his lunch and called the wedding off.
Evie sat cross-legged on the bed, accessorized by a black Labrador sprawled in her lap. There was another dog, scruffy, breed indeterminate, on the floor by her side. It woofed. It had an excellent baritone.
“You can’t tell from looking,” Evie said.
Evie was her usual color and sarcasm, though her regular melody was off, like Jay’s had been and she wasn’t juggling any tech. Grip heard the jangled notes in her. “I don’t exactly know what I’m looking at.”
She gestured and Grip turned to follow her hand to spy a wedding dress on a hanger. “It doesn’t fit?” There was a fix to that, safety pins, gaffer tape. No problem.
“What if marrying Jay hurts his career?
Problem. He glared at Evie. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No, no, I’m not. I am not a fan favorite. I watch his socials. His hard-core fans don’t think I’m good enough for him.”
“You think Jay is worried about mean comments from randoms on social?”
“No, I just—” Evie avoided his eyes and scratched the dog’s head, “I’m worried. What if being married holds Jay back?” She buried her face in dog neck.
“From what?” Jay was the reigning king of rock, wasn’t much he couldn’t have if he asked for it. Except a stronger stomach and apparently a low fuss wedding.
Evie straightened up. “From everything. He will put me first, you know that, and he can’t do that and still be the best.”
Oh, fucking hell.
He sat on the bed. The dog on the ground woofed. The one on the bed whined and whumped his tail. He was just as confused as Grip was. “Couldn’t you just have said the dress doesn’t fit?”
“Why would I have a dress that doesn’t fit on my wedding day? It’s a Vera Chan, of course it fits.”
“I don’t know. This is my first time as bridesman. Why would you suddenly think getting married to Jay was going to wreck his career, on your wedding day?” Why would Jay think the same thing?
“Better on my wedding day than the day after. There’s still time to be sensible.”
“And do what,” Grip whined. His tail was tucked somewhere between the legs of his new most fucking unlucky pants.
“Tell him I love him but there’s no reason for us to be married. We can do everything we were doing, everything we planned, without putting a ring on it.”
“This is just pre-getting-hitched jitters.” It was highly contagious.
“It’s a realization but yeah, my timing sucks.”
Chronic disaster. Buck tradition and not have bridesmaids and best men and you didn’t get a wedding either. That blew chunks. The baritone dog on the floor rolled over on his back. The one on the bed slobbered in Evie’s lap.
Grip stood. “Don’t go anywhere.” He had to fix this and fast.
“You don’t have to tell Jay, that’s my job.”
“Don’t do anything. Just wait.”
Evie quit playing with her lapdog’s ears. “Why?”
“I’ll be back.” The other option was fetch Mena and get the fuck out of here, because this was turning into a real life panic room adventure, a reluctant bride or groom behind every door.
“You can’t just leave me.”
“You have fur friends. And you look like shit so you’re not going anywhere.”
“I do not look—”
Grip had his hand on the door. “Not arguing. Leaving.”
“Wait.” Mega amounts of unhappiness in Evie’s voice. “How is Jay?”
“He’s got his puke face on.”
“Oh.”
“You know that doesn’t mean much.” Jay’s stress went straight to his stomach and exited via his mouth on the semi-regular.
“Or it does. What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” Right now. “I need to think.”
“You need to think. It’s not your wedding.”
But
