Page 6 of Wedding Whitney
“Nonsense,” Whitney’s father Canyon says. “Bachelor parties are Ravenworth rites of passage.”
I want to point out that I am not, in fact, a Ravenworth, but I opt not to. “My teammates took me out before I left Alaska,” I say instead. “So I’m good.”
“But we weren’t there,” Brett points out. “No, I’ve got something fun in mind for tonight. It’ll be great.”
“Whitney has a lot of things scheduled between now and the wedding,” I hedge. “So I’ll have to check with her.”
“Jesus, man, you’re not even married and you’re letting her pull you around by the dick,” Brett shakes his head.
I turn, squinting a little in the bright sun. “It’s not about letting her do anything,” I say quietly. “All this wedding stuff is about appeasing your family, which is the only reason we agreed to do it. If it were up to us, we’d have eloped and already been on our honeymoon. It’s about how much I love her. And your grandmother. Period.”
“Oh, don’t listen to him,” Canyon says, clapping me on the back. “He’s just annoyed because he’s not allowed to go to strip clubs anymore.”
“I’m allowed,” Brett growls. “I just can’t get caught.”
I tune them out as they bicker about whatever is going on in Brett’s marriage. I don’t care in the least and just want to get out of the sun, maybe go for a swim in Lillian’s pool.
Jesus, I’d do anything for my beautiful fiancée, but hanging out with the male members of her family is painful.
“Let’s get a drink,” Canyon says when we’ve finally finished the eighteen holes and are headed back inside the country club.
I follow amiably, happy to be in the air conditioning. I don’t mind heat in general, but it’s brutal right now, and I don’t like golf enough to endure it for so many hours. Luckily, we’re done and I’ll find an excuse next time they invite me to go. This is the third time in five days and I’m done with golf for a while.
“What’s your pleasure?” Brett asks me as we get to the bar.
“A tall glass of ice water,” I tell the bartender. “And whatever you have on draft.”
“Scotch on the rocks,” Brett tells him.
“Ice water and bourbon, straight.” Canyon seems bored with the whole idea of a drink, even though it’s been his idea.
“So, what do you do for fun in Alaska?” Brett asks, leaning against the bar.
“Hockey and sex,” I deadpan, meeting his gaze over the rim of my beer glass.
“Jesus, I don’t want to hear about my sister’s sex life.” Brett shudders.
“You asked.” I smile to myself. I’m enjoying giving Brett a hard time because he’s such an asshole. Whitney can’t stand him and though we’re trying not to make waves until after the wedding, it isn’t easy.
“I guess there’ll be a baby soon, huh?” Brett grins as if he’s in on some private joke.
I shrug, hoping to conceal my discomfort with the subject. “We’re not in any rush. My ex-wife had a lot of miscarriages, so we’re going to wait until the time is right.”
“Yeah, but—” Brett begins.
“Stop it, Brett.” His father gives him a look. “I’m sure Jake and Whitney have talked about the requisite two children before thirty stipulation in the family.”
The what?!
What the fuck?
There’s always something with this family, but I won’t play any games. Whitney and I have plenty of money, so neither of us will be manipulated by any inheritance stipulations.
However, if the rest of the family—her grandmother in particular—is pressuring her behind the scenes about babies, that’s a different story and one I intend to address because I’ve learned that where there’s smoke, in this family, there’s always fire.
“Whitney and I are on the same page about kids,” I say firmly, downing the rest of my beer. Brett is watching my face carefully, so I do my best not to show any emotion at all.
I’ll never talk to these guys about how heartbreaking it’s been to watch my ex-wife lose twelve babies over the course of our relationship due to a genetic issue neither of us had known about until it was too late. Whitney knows what I’ve gone through, as well as a handful of close friends, but these guys? No way.
