Page 12 of Super Hot Wingman
Flip grins. “You’re right. How could anybody not like either one of us?”
“It’s mystifying to me,” I say. “Speaking of, one of my clients who adores my work gave me some Cubans. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“That we need to smoke them tonight to celebrate my engagement? And my impending fatherhood?”
Fatherhood.Damn. I’m a little shaken up by his whirlwind engagement. The speed at which my best friend’s world is changing makes my head spin. But it’s his life, and I support him. These big events are cause for celebration.
“It’s settled,” I announce. “I’ll be on your terrace this evening to light up and celebrate. Hey—give me Hannah and Mark’s phone numbers? I’ll need to make sure they’re available for the party tomorrow.”
“Thanks, man.” Flip slaps me on the back. “I really appreciate this gesture.”
“My pleasure.” The party is going to be great. I just know it.
SHOTGUN WEDDING
MARK
“Another?” the bartender asks, and I hesitate, checking my co-worker's face.
“Sure,” Brett says. “But I'll switch to light beer.”
I order another rum and tonic, because unlike Brett, I don't have a wife or any significant other, for that matter, at home waiting for me. Rosie is with Bridget. So the only one who’s hoping I come home tonight is an antisocial cat.
Hell, Blackbeard won't even notice my absence until breakfast.
Brett noodles with the chessboard that’s set up on the bar between us. “Did you hear Hartman is pissed because we both scheduled our mandatory time away before he could pick a date?” he asks.
I snicker. “He who snoozes loses.”
“Exactly. God bless MTA.” Brett holds up the dregs of his old drink and we clink glasses to our required two weeks off.
“Did you make a plan yet?” he asks, because my mandatory vacation is coming up fast.
“Well, no and yes.” Last time, I flew my family to Michigan, where we rented a cottage on a sandy beach. My parents drove up for a few days to spend time with us.
But this time, I've been at a loss for what to do with myself for two lonely weeks—until Hannah suddenly sprang her engagement on me. “My sister just announced she’s having a shotgun wedding. So she'll be throwing something together during my break.”
Brett lets out a low whistle. “They’re tying the knot that quickly, huh?”
“Yup.” I swallow roughly.
“Wow.”
The bartender plonks down our fresh drinks. We thank him, then Brett takes a sip of his beer and studies me over the rim of his glass. “This isn't sitting well with you, is it? The baby. The marriage.”
“All of it. I’m struggling,” I admit.
“Why? Is the guy a deadbeat? Is he unemployed?”
I let out a bitter laugh. “No, he's richer than God. Like, old money rich. Went to boarding school in Switzerland, for fuck’s sake.”
“Interesting. Is he a snob? Is that the issue?”
“Well . . . sometimes he does sound like a rich bro.” For no good reason, a quick mental image of Flip’s longtime-friend pops into my head. That dude’s been visiting my head far too often. So I shove the image of Asher St. James aside. Although I bet it’s unusual for a rich prepster to have a gay best friend. “Honestly, it wouldn’t be fair to say that Flip is some kind of dreadful cliché. It's nothing specific I can put my finger on,” I admit.
“. . . Except for the fact that he doesn’t know how to operate a condom,” Brett quips.
“Well, yeah.” Then again, I got Bridget pregnant before graduation. So Flip and I have more in common than I'd like to admit. Maybe that’s the problem. “Ugh. I just don’t want her to get her heart broken. And I’ve seen it happen. The truth is that I just have a gut feeling that my sister is making a huge mistake. And you’re supposed to trust your gut, right?”
