Super Hot Wingman (The Best Men 0.50)

Then I toss the phone on the table. That was seriously fucking awesome advice I dispensed. Everything will be sorted out by morning, and she’ll see what a good brother I was tonight.

EPILOGUE: PAST HIS BEDTIME

ASHER

The smoke curls into the late-night Manhattan air as we lean against the terrace, the whole city spread out below us.

“To new beginnings for you,” I say, as I hold the cigar like I’m toasting with it.

Flip blows out a puff, making perfect circles. “You’re not going to do one of your epic long toasts?”

I laugh. “I don’t do epic long toasts. I reserve my stamina for other things, thank you very much.”

Flips laughs, then sighs happily. “Life is good, Asher. And I hope you know, I’m not going to be one of those guys who checks out on his buds when he has a kid.”

I smile. “I know that.”

“I plan on being a great father. And the best husband ever. I love Hannah madly. And I’m so fucking excited about the baby,” he says, and nearly chokes up again. “But you know, life is big. There’s room for all sorts of stuff.”

I cuff him on the arm. “I get your meaning. But let’s save the sentimental shit for another time,” I say as a familiar ping hits the air.

Our phones buzz at the same time.

And buzz.

And buzz.

I reach into my back pocket for mine. Flip grabs his too. When I swipe open the screen, I click over to my text messages. There’s a new one from Mark on the group thread for the party tomorrow. “It’s Mark. Isn’t it past his bedtime?”

“Ooooh, burn,” Flip says with a laugh. “Then again, it is twelve forty-five.”

I click open the chat and read the first message.

My jaw comes unhinged.

Holy. Fucking. Shit.

Pretty sure he only meant to send these to his sister.

I glance over at my friend, registering the shock on his face too.

I cannot believe Mark Banks just said that.

And that. And that.

And, whoa, that last thing.

About me.

Our phones go silent as the string of texts ends. And I know one thing with absolute certainty.

The party I’m throwing tomorrow just got a lot more interesting.

IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME

MARK

The sound of my alarm is very soft today. Almost so soft that I can’t hear it.

Wait.

Prying my eyes open, the first thing I see is Blackbeard on the coffee table. He’s staring at me with judgment in his one eye.

Uh-oh.

I lift my head off the arm of the sofa. A shooting pain runs from my aching neck to my shoulder. I spent the whole night on my couch? What the hell?

As I swing my body into a vertical position, my empty stomach gives a sickening lurch. Oh, boy. I’m not much of a drinker. Usually. I only drink when I’m out with friends.

But Brett and I were playing chess at the bar, and instead of switching to beer, I turned to rum and tonics.

Wait. Scotch too. I switched to single-malt.

A lot of single-malt.

Shit. I’d better find some aspirin. And I’d better shut off my alarm, which is still trilling in the bedroom.

I grab my glasses from the table and put them on, then stand up slowly. Something clatters to the floor. It’s my phone.

Huh.

I bend carefully to retrieve it, because everything hurts and I want to die. The phone wakes up and glows brightly right in my eyes. Ouch. Everything is ouch.

Lifting my thumb to shutter the phone, I catch a glimpse of the text string on the screen.

They’re all in shouty caps.

Lots of them.

A long tirade authored by me.

To Hannah!

Oh. Shit.

The memory of my intention comes flooding back. And everything that seemed like a good idea late last night has turned out to be a horrible idea in the light of day. I only wanted to warn her. I just wanted to dispense some brotherly advice. But drunk brothers aren’t nearly as smart as they think they are.

Frantically, I scroll up through my rantings.

And it’s bad.

Like, awful advice. Delivered thoughtlessly.

This is . . .

Wow. I lost it last night. I owe Hannah a huge apology.

But when I finally reach the top of my drunken rant, it gets even worse. This is a whole new level of mortification. Because Hannah wasn’t the only one I’d texted. I hit reply to Hannah’s last message—in the group chat where Asher invited me to the engagement party. Kill me now.