“From what?” Jay was the reigning king of rock, wasn’t much he couldn’t have if he asked for it. Except a stronger stomach and apparently a low fuss wedding.
Evie straightened up. “From everything. He will put me first, you know that, and he can’t do that and still be the best.”
Oh, fucking hell.
He sat on the bed. The dog on the ground woofed. The one on the bed whined and whumped his tail. He was just as confused as Grip was. “Couldn’t you just have said the dress doesn’t fit?”
“Why would I have a dress that doesn’t fit on my wedding day? It’s a Vera Chan, of course it fits.”
“I don’t know. This is my first time as bridesman. Why would you suddenly think getting married to Jay was going to wreck his career, on your wedding day?” Why would Jay think the same thing?
“Better on my wedding day than the day after. There’s still time to be sensible.”
“And do what,” Grip whined. His tail was tucked somewhere between the legs of his new most fucking unlucky pants.
“Tell him I love him but there’s no reason for us to be married. We can do everything we were doing, everything we planned, without putting a ring on it.”
“This is just pre-getting-hitched jitters.” It was highly contagious.
“It’s a realization but yeah, my timing sucks.”
Chronic disaster. Buck tradition and not have bridesmaids and best men and you didn’t get a wedding either. That blew chunks. The baritone dog on the floor rolled over on his back. The one on the bed slobbered in Evie’s lap.
Grip stood. “Don’t go anywhere.” He had to fix this and fast.
“You don’t have to tell Jay, that’s my job.”
“Don’t do anything. Just wait.”
Evie quit playing with her lapdog’s ears. “Why?”
“I’ll be back.” The other option was fetch Mena and get the fuck out of here, because this was turning into a real life panic room adventure, a reluctant bride or groom behind every door.
“You can’t just leave me.”
“You have fur friends. And you look like shit so you’re not going anywhere.”
“I do not look—”
Grip had his hand on the door. “Not arguing. Leaving.”
“Wait.” Mega amounts of unhappiness in Evie’s voice. “How is Jay?”
“He’s got his puke face on.”
“Oh.”
“You know that doesn’t mean much.” Jay’s stress went straight to his stomach and exited via his mouth on the semi-regular.
“Or it does. What are you not telling me?”
“Nothing.” Right now. “I need to think.”
“You need to think. It’s not your wedding.”
But it could be. He could be Jay, he could be Evie, thinking about how wanting to make a life with Mena was all kinds of selfish. She’d be saddled with music world chaos and that wasn’t a good fit for the strait-laced world of finance she worked in. She’d just gotten a partnership after losing it when they hooked up and one more scandal linked to him could mess that up for her. Again.
“Stay,” he said and slipped out the door. The dogs might do as he said but he didn’t trust Evie so he had to be quick sorting this.