Page 44 of You Are Cordially Invited

“Jesus.” Mark sighed and his shoulders relaxed. “Is it always like that?”

“Not for a while. The wedding has given everyone a hard-on.” I turned and kissed Cam’s cheek, noting the way his chest heaved up and down. He didn’t usually let this shit affect him. “You okay, baby?”

He nodded but said nothing. I pulled his hand into my lap and he sighed and dropped his head to my shoulder. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, and my head fell against his.

“I hope this isn’t an omen for the next week, or we’re all fucked,” Mark grumbled.

“I’d be prepared, if I were you,” I warned him.

“What did that reporter mean about your dad?” Cam pulled his phone from the pocket of his leather jacket and started to scroll.

I’d almost forgotten. I watched as he scrolled, then hit a link. I didn’t need more than the heading. “Fuck.”

“Holy crap. That bastard.” Cam’s jaw set in fury as he read, and I didn’t blame him.

Mark indicated and took the onramp for the motorway south. Then he caught my eye in the rear-vision mirror. “What’s the jerk done now?”

“I’ll give you the highlights,” I muttered, then read as Cam slowly scrolled from the top. “Dragging rugby into disrepute; morally corrupt and degrading role models for our youth; this is what happens when you bow to political correctness; mocking the institution of marriage; Rugby New Zealand should know better; a sham wedding; a disgrace to New Zealand child services for allowing adoption by a perverse couple; illegal obstruction of his right to visit his grandchild; and so on and fucking so forth.”

“Fucker.” Cam dropped the phone on his lap and fell against me with a grunt. “I’m surprised the jerk even knew some of those words.”

So was I. “Why the hell would anyone give himanyairtime? That’s what gets me.”

“You know why.” Cam spoke against my shoulder, his body warm against the chill of my father’s words. “Most of the arseholes who subscribe to that particular sport talkback agree with him.” He finally turned so I could see his face and cupped my cheek. “He’s a fuckup and everyone knows he is. This is exactly what he wants, to ruin our wedding day and set the vultures on us. I vote we don’t give it to him. You, me, Cory, and our friends and family?They’rewho matter. He doesn’t even rate. And we’re okay, right?”

We were. I just wished we didn’t have to fight all these fires. My heart pounded in my throat.

“Right?” A frown creased his forehead as he waited for an answer.

I found a smile for him. “Of course we’re okay.” I pressed my lips to his. “Because it’s us.”

The corners of his mouth curved up in a lazy smile. “Yeah, baby, because it’s us.”

Chapter Nine

Reuben

“Watch for Chappy Keenan outthere today. He’s been in fucking good form.” Mathew stretched his legs beside me in the change room. He was one of the designated water boys, his plantar injury keeping him off the field and on the bench. “Waikato is starting him today.”

We looked up, both wearing a smile as the crowd roared and clapped to something happening outside. The sound never got old, sending shivers down my spine exactly the same way it had the first time I’d run onto the paddock for the Chiefs all those years ago—pre-Cam, pre-everything.

“Sell-out crowd, best of the provincial season so far,” he said, handing me the strapping tape for my hamstring. “The gap’s too wide.” He pointed to my leg and set to righting it. “How they expect us to play from February to October without fucking our bodies is beyond me. It’s hard enough getting through the Super Rugby competition injury-free without having to go on and play the provincial Mitre 10 Cup afterward. And then there’s all the All Blacks’ stuff on top, for guys like you. Our bodies weren’t made for it, man.” He elbowed me. “You’re gonna miss me out there today.”

We would. “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I teased. “Rawiri’s been damn fast this week and I’m feeling the love.”

“Aw, don’t be like that.” He shoved me playfully as I finished with the extra strapping. “You know I’m the man.” Mathew’s boyish grin had got him out of more trouble on the field than the rest of the Waikato players put together, but it had stopped working on me a while back. I’d seen it too often at his parents’ dinner table, and I’d learned from the best, his mother. Still, he had a way of getting under your skin, just like his damn brother.

“Okay men, time.” Our coach clapped and threw the change room doors open. “Line up.”

“Come on.” Mathew tugged me to my feet, and we slotted into our spots in the line before running onto the field to the elation of the capacity crowd.

Once on the field, I carefully re-stretched my newly recovered hamstring and glanced up into the stand to find Cam exactly where I expected him—slap bang in the middle of the other SAPs—the centre of fucking attention, as always. No longer the WAGs since Cam had appeared on the scene, the North Harbour partners had renamed themselves the spouses and partners, or SAPs, a name that was catching on with the Blues’ and All Blacks’ partners as well.

Cam wasn’t exactly enamoured with the new label, but he wasn’t about to rock the boat either, not with the majority of the women proving incredibly supportive. To that end, I made a point of calling him my SAP as often as possible just to light the pissy fire in his eyes.

‘Slice of Heaven’ blared through the speakers as I shot Cam a wave, and the crowd roared again, adrenaline surging through my veins, kicking up my heart. Nothing beat a home crowd. This was the first game in Auckland for three weeks, and the last before our bye the next weekend when Cam and I were getting married.

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