Don't Kiss the Bride

Mouth open, she turns toward me, and the cage tilts. The bird jumps to a different perch and bobs his head at us. “Holy shit,” Skylar says. “What happened?”

“I jumped the guy, and he ran off. We started talking, and he told me his name.”

“Wait a minute. You didn’t recognize him? The guy is a literal god.”

“If he was singing, I would’ve recognized him but we were standing in a dark alley for fuck’s sake.”

“Well, what was he like?” she asks impatiently. “Was he nice? Please tell me he was nice. I will die if he wasn’t nice.”

“He was. We talked for hours like he was just a regular guy.”

She beams. “What did you talk about?”

I shrug. “Work. His band. Relationships. Motorcycles. Love.”

“You talked about love with Asher Valentine? Oh my God, I would freak out. Do you know he met his wife when they were only fifteen? And when she had that accident years ago, she was in a coma for eight years! I saw him do an interview and he said he stayed totally committed to her in every way the entire time.”

I’ve missed seeing her excitement and hearing happiness in her voice. “Yup. He told me all about it.”

“Wow. Now that’s love. He’s like the perfect man. Talented, romantic, a voice like sin, hot as hell.” She sighs and smiles dreamily like she just had a daydream-gasm.

“Okay, fangirl, did you know his daughter fell in love with his best friend when she was eighteen and he was thirty-two?”

That snaps her out of her swoony haze. “Um, no. You better spill that tea right now, Lucky.”

I laugh. “Ohh, so I’ve got some dirt you want?”

“Yes! Tell me more.”

“I guess they kept it on the down low for a while, and when Asher found out, the shit hit the mother-fuckin’ fan.”

“Oh no! That sucks!”

“Yeah, but they worked it out. It’s all good now.”

“Are they still together? The daughter and the friend?”

“He said they’re married with a baby.”

Her big blue eyes nearly bulge out of her head. “Holy crap. Who knew Asher Valentine was a grandfather. That’s insane—he’s like your age. I follow him on social media. I think he’s got even more tattoos than you do. He is sooo incredibly hot.”

Jealousy starts to fester in my veins. “Yeah, I heard ya the first time,” I say.

“The age difference between his daughter and his friend is close to ours,” she says, not looking at me.

“I know; that’s why we were talking about it.”

“You really told him about us? About me? I can imagine how that conversation went,” she says with a hint of sarcasm.

I’m starting to wish I hadn’t brought up the topic of Asher Valentine now. I feel like a wild animal about to be cornered by an expert hunter.

“How’s the bird doing?” I ask, straightening the bow on the cage.

“Jude, seriously? The bird is fine. Tell me what you told him. What did he say?”

“I told him everything.”

“Everything?” she repeats. “What’s everything?”

“Just that we got married. And why.”

“That’s everything?”

“Basically.”

“Did you tell him we’ve kissed? And had sex?” she challenges. “That much everything?”

Memories of us having sex has been a major source of jerk-off material for me. I wish I could light up a smoke, but I can’t with the stupid bird in the truck. “Not exactly like that, no. That’s kinda private, don’t ya think?”

She quirks her lips to the side. “I thought guys liked to talk about their sexual escapades.”

“I don’t consider you an escapade. At all.”

“Good.”

“You’re here!” Aunt Suzy exclaims when she opens her front door.

I lean in and kiss her cheek as we move inside the living room.

“I’ve been here on Christmas every year since I was born.”

“Merry Christmas,” Skylar says from behind the birdcage.

“Oh my God! A parakeet!” Aunt Suzy squeals.

“Why are you acting surprised? Every year I give you exactly what you ask for.”

Ignoring me, she takes the cage and walks it over to Uncle Al, who’s dozing off in his chair next to the Christmas tree.

“Look! We have a bird! Isn’t he adorable?”

Jolting awake, he squints at it then throws me a glance. “I thought we agreed years ago you can’t give her anything that eats, barks, or shits.”

“Leave him alone,” Aunt Suzy says. “He always gives me the best presents.”

“Because you tell him what to get you.”

“Well, how else will I get what I want?”

Skylar shrugs off her coat and refuses to make eye contact with me when I take it from her.

“Aunt Suzy, your decorations are amazing,” Skylar says.

My aunt and uncle deck out the entire house with vintage decorations every holiday. The mantel is covered with fake snow and hanging icicles, and there’s a little fake frozen pond with tiny people that actually skate across it. Their tree is the same one they’ve had since they were first married, with an ornament for every year they’ve been together.