Page 62 of Body Check
Mickey shakes his head. “Sorry, I’m with Viv,” he says, not looking sorry at all.
“Are you, though?” the bride persists. “Because I can pair you and Shelby up at brunch tomorrow morning.”
“Don’t,” he warns. “I’m serious, Jocelyn. I brought a date. I’m not sitting anywhere but next to her, and I’m not interested in your friend.”
The horrible cousin—Jocelyn—frowns. “Fine. I’ll quit bugging you about Shelby, but in return, you have to tell me what the hell is up with Birdie and that hot hunk she brought along. There’s no way those two are together. Did she hire him? Oh my god, she did, didn’t she?”
Mickey's cheeks flame bright and nearly match his hair. He’s practically vibrating with anger and frustration.
For a split second, I worry that he’s going to punch a wall. But, to his credit, he pulls his shit together.
I, on the other hand, do not.
Without thinking twice, I push off the wall and head straight toward them. Jocelyn notices me right away, and she looks like she wants to disappear into the million layers of fluff on her dress.
Mickey’s eyes bug out of his head when he notices me.
I cut the bullshit and get straight to the point. “You had a question for me?” I say, pinning Jocelyn with a glare.
“What? No. I was just talking to Bran. One of the bridesmaids has a crush on him and?—”
“Bullshit,” I toss back, not in the mood for her whiny explanation. “It’s your wedding day, right? Shouldn’t you be greeting guests or dancing, or, I don’t know, spending time with your brand new husband instead of talking shit about my girlfriend?”
The bride starts to sputter a reply, but I’m not in the mood to listen. “You’re jealous, that’s what this is all about. Bridgette’s beautiful and kind and so fucking talented. She’s confident and resilient and so damn sexy. I’m lucky she chose me, and I know it. I’m gonna earn her love every day. And what are you gonna do? Oh, that’s right, you’ll be busy putting other people down just to build yourself up. Fucking pathetic,” I say, walking away and not bothering to look back.
I’m well aware that this woman could whine and cry to her mommy and daddy and probably get me kicked out, but I couldn’t stay quiet any longer.
I’m searching for another hallway that leads to the ballroom when I feel a tap on my shoulder. Before I turn around, I know it’s Mickey. I’m not sure if he’s going to punch me or if he wants to hug it out. With this guy, it could be either or both.
When I turn to face him, he just studies me like he’s never seen me before in his life.
“You really care about her, don’t you?” he asks, like he never would have believed it if he hadn’t seen and heard it for himself.
I don’t call him a dumbass for not seeing it before, and I don’t puff out my chest in a challenge. Instead, I look my teammate in the eye and nod, and go with the truth. “Call it what it is, Mick. I love her.”
27
Bridgette
Dutton pulls into an empty parking spot at the Shop ‘n Go and reaches into my backseat for the reusable grocery bags he tossed there earlier. We got back from Jocelyn’s wedding a few days ago, and while I don’t expect my brother and my boyfriend to get matching tattoos anytime soon, things have definitely thawed out over the past few days. I’m not trying to jinx anything, but it’s entirely possible that we’re past all the drama and we can just enjoy being a couple.
Dutton has his hand on the door handle, but I’m not ready to get out of the car just yet—not until I’ve unearthed my earbuds from the bottom of my bag. They are a grocery-shopping necessity, and when I come up empty, I panic for a second until I look inside the zipper compartment and see them sitting there next to my favorite lip balm and a pen that’s probably run out of ink.
Victory.
“You need a soundtrack to buy food?” Dutton asks, pointing at my earbuds.
Oh, this handsome, clueless man. “Uh, yeah. I can’t even imagine going into a store without something to distract me.”
“From grocery shopping?” he asks as we hop out of the car and stride through the parking lot.
“Absolutely. Have you ever been to a grocery store? They’re loud and overwhelming. There are always a million people who need to be in the exact same spot you are. And I swear they change the layout every few weeks. It’s the worst chore ever, but it’s a necessary evil, so the only way I get through it is with the help of these guys,” I say, holding up the case.
He takes one of the earbuds, even though I wasn’t offering them to him, and slips it in his ear. “Great. What are we listening to? More of that grunge stuff? Don’t tell anyone, but I actually kinda like it.”
“Well, since we’re here together, I probably don’t need the audio assist. But if I get a little frazzled by the time we reach the cleaning supplies, maybe I’ll put on a playlist,” I tell him, holding my hand out so he can drop the earbud into it.
Of course, he doesn’t. “Hell no, I want the full Bridgette Mikalski experience, and that means we listen while we shop.”
