Page 118 of My Favorite Mistake

Brennan shook his head, blinking again. “Nope. I got you, Sarge.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose and then downed his drink and stood. “Anyone need a refill?”

Carson leaned across the table. “Are you sick or something, Riley?”

Brennan offered another haphazard shake of his head as he started to step away. “Someone in this bar has on a hell of a lot of cheap-ass cologne, and I’m getting a headache.”

Carson squinted at him, and then leaned toward the other side of the table to dramatically sniff the air around Luke. “Strange. That sounds like something Luke would do, but I don’t smell anything.”

Luke shoved Carson’s shoulder. “Fuck off, McDermott.”

There wasn’tanykind of overpowering scent in the bar, but Brennan did look kind of pale all of a sudden. Connor closed the ring box and stuffed it into his pocket, then crossed the room to stand next to Brennan at the bar.

A bartender set down a shot of scotch, and Brennan downed it.

Connor eyed the empty glass and looked at Brennan. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Headache.” He rubbed his eyes.

Connor narrowed his eyes. “Really?”

“Yeah, I might have to skip out early.” He turned to Connor and slapped his back. “But don’t worry about tomorrow. I got you covered.”

“Thanks, brother.” Connor leaned his elbows against the bar, still eyeing Brennan, and a hunch from months ago resurfaced in his mind.

Not that it mattered, but Connor was suddenly really preoccupied with it and needed clarification.

“Yeah, so,” Connor went on, mentally parsing through how to ask such a thingagain, especially after so much had changed, “I guess the only problem now is whether you’re going to be my best man or Liza’s maid of honor.”

They both broke into hearty laughter, and Brennan rubbed his eyes again.

“I mean, me in a dress would definitely ruin the aesthetic of the wedding, so I’ll probably have to go with best man.”

They laughed again, both leaning against the bar and staring ahead as they descended into silence.

“Also…and not to get all friggin’ sappy or anything,” Connor began again, “but I’m really glad you guys got to be such good friends.”

Brennan smiled and nodded, giving an easy shrug. “It’s really easy to be friends with someone like Liza.”

They slipped into silence again, and Brennan lifted his finger at the bartender for another round, which only made Connor more suspicious. Brennan almost never pounded drinks this quickly, and not to mention, him not having much to say for extended periods like this was weird as hell.

So Connor came right out and asked—sort of.

“Riley, are you feeling weird about me proposing?”

Brennan’s brow pulled low. “No.” The bartender set down his drink, and Brennan swallowed half of it. “Also, I’m pretty sure however I feel about you proposing is completely inconsequential.”

“Yeah, but…” Connor rubbed the back of his neck, eyeing the half empty glass. “I mean…you know Liza really well. Do you think it’s too soon or something?”

“Nah.” Brennan shook his head and tossed back the rest of the drink, then tilted the glass toward Connor without looking at him. “She knows you’re going to do it soon, so you might as well do it already.” He hitched a shoulder, and a half-smile tugged one corner of his mouth. “I personally think you should’ve done it way before now, Sarge.”

Connor flipped his palms in exasperation and turned to face Brennan directly. “Then why the fuck are you acting so weird right now?”

“Not acting weird.”

“Yeah, youare.” Connor poked his index finger into Brennan’s shoulder. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, Marine.”

Brennan slowly turned toward Connor wearing a placid expression and cocking his head. “What?”

“What in the world is going on with you right now?”

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