“Pop your balls back out, boys,” Nat reads as she takes the phone and Brady presses his lips into a tight line.
“Yeah.” I chuckle. “He’s such a grumpy ass.”
“Billionaires all are, apparently,” Sami offers cheekily, eyeing up Matt who pretends not to notice her dig. “Party poopers and grumpy bastards.”
Matt’s jaw clenches. “I’m not grumpy. Lori’s never grumpy.”
“That’s not true and I don’t quite have billionaire status, so I get to remain classified as a delight for about six more months,” I joke.
“Oh my God, I was teasing. You better perk up,” Sami demands but leans in, planting her gloss-coated lips on his cheek. “It’s our wedding. And I have planned everything. It’ll be perfect.”
“It’s going to be so romantic.” Nat cuddles into Brady. The four of them melt into a snuggle fest. And again, I’m surrounded by it. I can practically smell the sex in the air.
“We picking up Rich and Carson?” I’m hopeful.
“I can’t get ahold of them. I’m going to kill Carson.”
“How long is this drive?” I ask, trying not to sound bitter.
“About an hour,” Sami answers without taking her eyes off Matt.
“Right.” I bang on the glass separating us from Charles, Matt’s driver. He stops the limo.
“What now, Lori?” Brady scowls. “You find some homeless dude to feed? You Canadians are weird.”
“Stop!” Nat slaps Brady.
Without answering, I jump out and close the door, climbing in the front seat with Charles who grins. “Evening, Mr. Eckelston. I’ve been expecting you.” His English accent always makes me feel like I’m in a James Bond film.
“Charles,” I say back politely.
The divider comes down, revealing the four faces in the back seat. “If I’m not allowed to ride up front with Charles, neither are you. You get your sweet ass back here.” Brady points a meaty finger at me.
“You wanna trade Nat for Charles in that back-seat circle jerk, you give me a shout, Coldwell. Until then, I’m up here, with my main man.” I press the button and challenge him with my stare as he glares at me while Nat works at solving the term “circle jerk.” The window is more than halfway up when her eyes widen and she realizes what I’ve said, but I lose them in the tint. I wish I might have seen the full reaction.
“Circle jerk, sir?” Charles asks.
“This fifth wheel thing is getting painful, Charles,” I groan and get comfortable. “It’s worse now that Carson and Rich are living together. I’ve become the seventh wheel. Three happy couples and me.”
“You could always settle down, young man.” Charles gives me a bit of side-eye.
“I’m not even twenty-three yet.” I scoff. “Who gets settled down that young?” I say before I consider the four in the back. “Besides them. It’s unnatural, Charles. They’re weird. I’m the normal one.”
“I suppose so, sir.” He calls me sir, even though he’s a hard forty years older than I am. And I let it slide though I hate it, but this is how it is. It’s also why I don’t have a driver. I’ve managed to avoid the typical staff, beyond Millie who I tell myself is for the cat and not me at all. Even if the sandwiches are amazing.
“I think I’ll stick with playing the field and sleeping with my cat every night,” I say softly as he rounds the curb.
“Sound plan, sir.” Charles doesn’t go for the low-hanging fruit in the form of pussy jokes he could torment me with. Instead, he nods like the gentleman he is. “At least until the right girl or boy comes along.”
“Hopefully, that never happens,” I mutter and try not to acknowledge the fact this is going to be the hardest week of my life. Getting knocked out of the playoffs sucked. Spending the one time a year when I like to be alone—roaming my apartment in my underwear with my cat, day drunk and eating my feelings—at a wedding, with hundreds of people expecting me to be funny and on, is hell.
Pure hell.
3 Small favors
Jenny
It takes every ounce of strength and venom in me to walk out of my apartment, dressed and presentable, but I do it.
In new heels and a cute pencil skirt-blouse combo, I rush for my train, noticing the rain has let up and the sun is shining. A promising sign for my fresh start. A fresh start I’m aware I’m not truly comprehending, but I don’t need to do that today.
Not yet.
Right now, I need to make it through the day. And tomorrow, I have to make it through that day. And eventually it will hurt less. Or not hurt at all, since I’m totally numb by the time I reach the station. Not peacefully numb but cut off from my emotions and rational maybe.
Fortunately, it’s an off-peak time to ride the train and none of my morning-commute usuals are here. I sit and stare out the window, trying not to let my mind wander. It has one destination and it’s a stop I refuse to make.
A text from my older brother, Josh, hits my phone.
You ok?
Yup, I answer back, aware he doesn’t have time to get into this, and I have no desire to.
If you’re not ok, I’m here. He finishes with a nerd emoji.
I send a fake kissy face. I can’t talk about this right now.
But before I can turn off the phone, it rings as the train nears the halfway mark of the journey, about fifteen minutes to the city.
“Hello?” I answer, assuming it’s him forcing the issue in a big brother way.
Thankfully, it’s not him. “Hey, how’s it going?” My friend Claire sounds a little hesitant.
“I can’t talk about it. How’s Wisconsin?” I ask as I slip my earbuds in and plug them into my phone so I don’t have to hold it to my ear.
“Cold. It’s still early spring here. Are you at your dad’s in Halifax or
