Page 71 of Yours, Now and Always
Except for Marin.
Without missing a beat, she raises her hand to her temple and mutters, “New plan. Lie and deny everything. Blame Ryan Gosling.”
CHAPTER 24
GAGE
I’ve got too much energy in my body and no way to get it out. It’s been building for forty- five long days—the weeks I’ve had to wait for my marriage to be public—and now that we’re down to the last few hours before the wedding, it’s beginning to feel like pressure. Caged and coiled.
I’m a fucking hostage to these hours because this isn’t the day I get a wife. It’s the day I can finally stop pretending she’s not already mine, and that’s all I’ve wanted since the actual day I made her my wife.
Luna and Sarah are with Amelia now. I spent the morning with them. We played board games with their uncles, and I answered approximately one thousand questions about dresses and rings and weddings and honeymoons and whether Luna will get to hold a real microphone during the reception. Now that I’m alone, the silence in this cottage is pressing in.
I change into gray joggers and a black T-shirt before sitting on the edge of the bed and lacing up my sneakers. A run will help get me through the afternoon.
I’m almost finished tying the second lace when the door swings open without a knock. Callan and Ethan walk in like they own the damn place.
Ethan scans my outfit and smirks. “Holy shit. Never thought I’d see the day.”
I eye him. “What day?”
He jerks his chin at me. “The one where you get pre-wedding jitters.”
Callan laughs. “You’re suited up in running gear hours before you’re supposed to say ‘I do.’ This is either cold feet or a really elaborate escape plan.” He cocks his head. “Are we talking runaway groom here?”
“It’s called having energy to burn,” I mutter, finishing the knot on my lace.
“Right,” Ethan says, exchanging a look with Callan. “Because you’ve always been the high-strung, nervous type.”
“I’d wager a bet he’s been googling ‘is it normal to panic before your wedding,’” Callan says, his smirk matching Ethan’s.
“What kind of bet are we talking here?” Ethan says. “A grand? Ten? Your lake house? That vintage?—”
“I’m not panicking.” I stand.
“Yeah,” Ethan says. “You’re just going for a casual jog. In the middle of the day. Hours before you get married. Totally normal behavior for a man who’s definitely not panicking.”
I glance between them. “You two done?”
“Not even close,” Callan says. “Come on, Gage. It’s okay to admit this is a big deal. You’re allowed to be nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
Ethan studies me. “You know what? I believe you. You’re not nervous about marrying Amelia.” He pauses, and his grin spreads wider. “You’re nervous about everyone watching you have feelings in public.”
“I’m going for a run,” I say flatly. “Not having a fucking therapy session with you two.”
“See, this is what happens when you don’t drink enough at your bachelor party,” Callan drawls.
“I don’t know,” Ethan says. “I saw him put away a fuckload of Macallan while Bradford gave that speech comparing marriage to mountain climbing.”
“He talked for twenty fucking minutes about base camps and emotional altitude and being roped together with trust,” I mutter. “That scotch was required.”
Ethan chuckles. “Don’t forget the part where he said communication is oxygen and you’ll both die without it.”
“Or when he compared therapy to hiring a Sherpa,” Callan says.
None of us hear Bradford join us. It’s not until he says, “Don’t forget I said that love is choosing to climb the same mountain even when the weather’s shit.”
