“Oh my God you think I’ve got cankles?” she cried, struggling to stare at her feet over her bump.
“Nice work, jackass,” I muttered, trying not to laugh.
The wedding was taking place at Sawyer and Jake’s condo. Driving slowly along the winding path that led from their gates to the house, I saw a white marquee pitched on the vast, manicured lawn, festooned with silver and gold ribbon. The theme spilled into the house when we walked inside, with more ribbon, balloons and candles.
“It’s like the fairy gaymother threw up all over your house,” I said to Sawyer when I found him out by the pool. He was dressed in a white suit, such a pristine and brilliant white, I almost put on my shades in case he damaged my eyes.
He threw an arm over my shoulder and brought me into a hug. “I have one word,” he said. “Ryder.”
Laughing, I nodded, understanding completely. Ryder was an all or nothing kinda guy. Give him a mission and a credit card and don’t expect him to return until it’s maxed out. I got my sweet revenge for the time he butchered my balls. I walked around for two weeks carrying a tube of hair removal cream in my pocket, waiting patiently for the perfect opportunity. He made a huge mistake taking a nap on the office couch at the club. Pure satisfaction pulsed in my veins as I squirted the cream on his head, creating a spiral pattern so he couldn’t disguise the damage with a clever hairstyle. When he woke and ran his fingers through his hair, bringing clumps of it away in his hands, he wasn’t just pissed, he was distraught. I tried to feel bad, seeing the despair on his face, but I couldn’t muster that particular emotion. It was difficult to feel bad when I couldn’t stop laughing. It’d only just grown back out into a style he felt happy with.
“Nervous?” I asked.
Sawyer sighed, a dreamy expression raining over his face. “Not even a little. It feels like I’ve waited my whole life to call him my husband.”
I put two fingers in my mouth, feigning a retch. “I know you’re gay and all, dude, but don’t forget you’ve still got a dick.”
Sawyer followed me into the house and chatted to Alex and Mindy for a while. I stopped in the kitchen, by a five-tier cake that had two grooms, which looked eerily just like Saw and Jake perched on top, and pulled out my cell, bringing up the pup-cam to check on Bruce. He snored away happily, his paws twitching, in his crate. He couldn’t be trusted to roam free in our absence yet. Just last week he chewed a pair of two-thousand-dollar shoes beyond recognition.
“I’ll pick him up after the service,” Alex said over my shoulder.
After the party tonight, Sawyer and Jake were leaving for the airport en route to their honeymoon in Italy. Presuming I’d be too wasted to get home, Alex and I were staying here, along with Bruce.
Jake stayed at his parents’ hotel last night and, after checking his watch for the bazillionth time, Sawyer got a call from Mrs. Jake’s Mom to say they were on their way. I really need to remember her name before I have to talk to her.
Gold chairs trimmed a white satin runway, leading to a wooden arch decorated with flowers and even more ribbon.
“You got some kinda ribbon fetish?” I asked Ryder, taking up the seat next to him.
“It’s called style,” he retorted. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”
The first two rows consisted of my whole family. Next to Alex and an overwhelmed Mindy, sat Ryder, Mason, Kip, Elle, Elle’s sister, and then Darren and Gavin and their wives. Looking further back I spotted our old manager Claire sitting with Ivan -Back Door Studio’s director – and the rest of the gang who worked for Sawyer and Jake. The only person missing, apart from Ashley who I hadn’t heard from again, and wasn’t sure I particularly wanted to, was my mom. I smiled through the pang of sadness. She would’ve loved this day.
I miss you, Mom.
“He’s here,” Sawyer’s bodyguard and long-time friend, Neil, announced taking his best man position next to Sawyer. I still hadn’t forgiven the fucker for not choosing me.
Some old lady with more wrinkles than my ball sac started playing what I considered to be a dismal tune on the piano to the right of the arch, signaling Jake’s arrival. I turned, along with everyone else, and saw Jake’s mom scurrying to her seat at the front. I’d never been to a gay wedding before so wasn’t sure if the same ‘rules’ applied. My question was answered when Jake emerged from the house, looking pretty much the same as always bar the fact he’d swapped out his usual black necktie for a silver bow, linking his father’s arm. His younger sister trailed behind, carrying a bouquet of white roses.