Page 85 of Proposal Play
“Fuck no,” I say, faster than I can shoot on an empty net.
“So what’s up then?” Max asks again, never one to mince words.
These guys deserve the truth. “Look, the wedding just sort of happened. We were hanging out, having fun, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.”
Wesley tilts his head, pauses, then cuts through the vagueness. “But youstayedmarried. And don’t give us that whole kisses-equals-kindness bit.” He rolls his eyes. “You seem way too into the two-fucking-week anniversary for this to be anything but something that maybe you want to keep happening.”
Way to see right through me. I drag a hand over the back of my neck, weighing the situation again. These three guys are my closest friends on the team, and they’ve already sniffed out enough of the truth.
“Look,” I begin, then fuck it. “She’s…great. Okay? You happy now?”
Wesley offers his palm to Miles and Max. “Pay up, fuckers.”
My jaw comes unhinged. “You bet on this? Assholes.”
Max shakes his head, annoyed, but pulls out some bills from his wallet while Miles taps on his phone, presumably Venmoing some money to Wesley. “What the hell was the bet? You all were giving me shit about this forever.”
Miles sighs heavily. “We bet on who’d get it out of you first tonight.” He nods toward Wesley. “Bryant won.”
I spread my arms out wide. “Seriously?”
“Like this surprises you?” Max asks.
He has me there. “Honestly, no.”
“Also,” Wesley says with a shit-eating grin, “I am very happy now. And two hundred bucks richer.” Then he leans forward. “So what’s next?”
I shrug. “No idea.”
“But you’re staying married?” he asks.
“For a couple of months, give or take.” The words taste sour on my tongue.
“Good luck with your obsession, man,” Max says. There’s no sarcasm in his tone, just genuine concern.
I’m not sure how to answer him. Fact is, I am obsessed with my wife, and I don’t know what to do about it. Maybe this is where I really do need some luck in my life.
When the server swings by with drinks, I’m grateful for the distraction.
Miles lifts his scotch, then says, “I guess that makes me officially the last man standing,” he says, though he furrows his brow. “Sometimes, I wish that weren’t the case.”
“Is there someone?” Max asks.
Miles shrugs. “Maybe, but it’s complicated.”
“As in, the nine-month var?—”
“No! God no.” Miles tosses a napkin at me.
“In what way then?” Max presses.
As they talk more, I give in to the obsession, flashing back to the night Maeve and I got hitched, wondering what would make for a good present for her, then to last week, too, and the gift I got her. In no time, I have an answer. Now, if I can just find a place that works as fast as Maeve.
A few searches later, I’m placing an order for something special, asking the store to deliver it tonight. Then, I relax and knock back my beer, picturing Maeve’s reaction when she opens the present.
When I return to the hotel with Max an hour later, I run into Everly in the lobby. She’s just said goodnight to a friend, and once her friend leaves, she turns to me with a smile. “Just the man I wanted to see,” she says.
“I thought I was that man,” Max cuts in, growling.