Page 128 of DFF: Delicate Freakin' Flower

I closed my eyes. “I have no fluid left in my body to throw up.”

“Same,” Jackson mumbled.

“The old man killed me,” I added, weakly pressing my forehead to the cool window. “Right now, there's a mariachi band in my skull. It's pure chaos.”

We pulled up to the venue, looking like an Uber full of rejected zombies. No one moved for a full ten seconds, andthen, like molasses being poured out of a cold jar, we spilled from the vehicle one at a time. I straightened up halfway before groaning and slumping forward again, hand on my stomach. Jesse dragged himself out last, still clutching the door frame like he was unsure gravity would stay loyal to him.

Elijah stumbled up beside me, eyes bloodshot behind his shades. “What are the chances,” he rasped, “that this is a silent wedding? No music. No sudden noises. Just… quiet appreciation and loving glances?”

I looked at him, and we shared a moment of deep, spiritual understanding...and dread.

“Zero,” I sighed, and we all trudged toward the entrance like we were marching into battle.

Inside, the venue was stunning—featuring floral arrangements, soft lighting, and elegant seating—but some twisted soul had chosen an all-white and gold color scheme, and the reflections off every surface were blinding.

Without a word, as if rehearsed, all five of us reached into our jacket pockets and pulled out sunglasses, sliding them back on like the broken, hungover boy band we now were.

I scanned the front.

And there was Ira, standing tall, beaming near the officiant, and chatting up the photographer like he’d slept eight hours and meditated to whale sounds before arriving. There wasn't a bead of sweat on him, just smug serenity wrapped in a bolo tie.

“I think the old man played us last night,” I whispered to Wes, who was slumped in the seat beside me like someone had unplugged him.

Wes snorted. “You think?”

I watched Ira adjust his cufflinks with flair and give Gladys a wink as she entered from a side door looking ten kinds of elegant. The vintage lace gown hugged her like it was made for her, and the way she looked at Ira?

Yeah, this was their day. Our hangovers would have to deal with it.

I sighed, pulled a mint from my pocket, and popped it into my mouth with reverence. “Let’s just pray there’s no brass section.”

Despite the band still hammering away at the inside of my skull, I had to admit—the wedding was beautiful.

The music was mercifully soft and classical, the kind of gentle strings that whispered grace instead of let’s rupture every blood vessel in your head. The warm light bouncing off flowers and candles actually didn’t make me want to claw my eyes out. And right in the front row, standing with a bouquet and a look of pride so bright it rivaled the damn chandeliers was Gabby.

She looked stunning. That navy dress, corseted and flowing just enough at the bottom, hugged her like it had been made for her. The way the fabric caught the light, the way her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders…she didn’t just glow. She flooredme. Even through my haze of nausea and regret, I couldn’t stop looking at her.

My stomach turned for a different reason then because I loved her that much.

The ceremony itself was short and sweet, the vows heartfelt and funny, the couple exchanging rings with the kind of tenderness that made you forgive them for dragging your hungover corpse to a public event.

Then came the moment the officiant beamed and announced, “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

We all stood and clapped. Or tried to.

Each clap was accompanied by a full-body wince. Marcus was whining 'ow' between each clap as if it were part of a meditation chant. Jesse actually hissed at one point and shook out his hand like it had betrayed him. My own hands felt like I’d just smacked them against hot metal, but I kept going because it was a good moment.

Behind us, Elijah groaned under his breath. “Sadie’s enjoying my pending death way too much.”

I glanced to the side and caught her clapping like she was at a rock concert, big grin and all.

“She’s not the only one,” I pointed out, catching Sasha and Addie doing the same thing. Gabby wasn’t even pretending to hide it—she clapped louder when she caught my eye.

Then it happened.

The first wailing, high-pitched chords of the Wedding March shrieked through the room like a banshee in heels, courtesy ofan electric guitar. My shoulders hit my ears, and every brother around me made a noise like they’d just been shot.

Jesse groaned and crouched down behind the row, curling into himself.

---