Nora: Great.
Me: I can help. I mean, idk what you want the tuxes to look like but I can help
Nora: That would be amazing. I’ll email you the links. Bennett is supposed to meet him at a place at three *worried face emoji*
Me: I’ll try to get him there. If not, I’ll go.
Nora: THANK YOU. LOVE YOU. Remember, dress shopping next weekend!
Me: CAN’T. WAIT.
I clean up, go to my room and change quickly, wondering what I should do now. Should I text Bennett about the appointment? Should I wait and see where Devon’s moping and worrying leads? As I tie my Converses, I decide to do both.
Me: Some guy got traded to my brother’s team and he’s freaking out. Nora said he’s supposed to meet you somewhere at 3. I’m going to try to get him there, but if not, I’ll go
Bennett: I know. I texted him as soon as I heard. Keep me posted.
I stare at my phone. Keep me posted? That’s it? I don’t know what I was expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. Devon is still on the phone, pacing the living room, when I shut the door behind me. He runs a hand through his blond hair. It’s long and messy and if I was Nora I would’ve had him cut it a month ago. Last time I said this to him, he said Nora liked it because he looks like Thor now. I wait until he’s done with the phone call before stepping closer to him.
“Is everything okay?”
“Our season is basically over because of this shit. No big deal though.” He shrugs as he looks up. “We’ve been keeping an eye on Carson’s shoulder for a few months since he’s been recovering, so we thought he was golden. We definitely didn’t expect something like this in the middle of the goddamn season.”
“Will they trade him away?”
“No, but he’s seriously injured and instead of using our backup, they decided to bring in a free agent. It’s fucking bogus.”
“Oh.” I look at the television, where the news about this is on loop. I swear these people discuss these things more than the owners of the damn teams. And then you have people like my brother, who listen to every single word as if they could be on to something. “How do they think they know what they’re talking about? Like, how do they expect us to believe they know more than what the team is saying to you guys?”
“Because Cole Murphy actually knows what he’s talking about.” Devon scoffs. “And the coaches didn’t tell any of us anything about this.”
“What?”
“Why do you think I’m mad?”
“I don’t know.” I throw my hands up. “You freak out over everything.”
“No, I don’t.” He shakes his head again. “Fuck. Where’s the sage I brought?”
I tilt my face toward the ceiling. Seriously with the sage? I don’t say anything about it because he’s clearly stressed out and I’d rather him light some sage and walk around the apartment thinking it’s going to take his problems away than hear him bitch about it for the next half hour.
“You know you have to meet Bennett at the suit place at three o’clock, right?”
“Yeah.” He lights his sage and replies to a text message with his other hand as he walks around.
“It’s two-fifteen.”
“So we have forty-five minutes to get there.”
“Uh, do you forget where you are? We’ll never make it in time. I told Nora I’d make sure you get there.”
“So let’s go.” He tosses the sage in the sink.
“You’re not wearing shoes.”
“I’ll go get shoes, then.” He walks toward his room, eyes on his phone, and crashes into the side of the couch. “Fuck.”
“Okay. That’s it.” I stomp over to him and snatch the phone from his hand. “Get your shoes on. Change your fucking shirt and do something about your hair, for God’s sake. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”
“Some women find that alluring.”
“Well, I find that you look like a hot mess.” I shove his phone into my purse. “Get your shit together.”
“I need my phone. Jerome is about to call any minute.”
“Yeah, well, I’m sure Jerome can fucking wait. We’re dealing with a crisis.”
“This is a crisis,” Devon shouts from his room. “My friend and quarterback is in the middle of getting replaced.”
“It’s business, Devon,” I shout back from the kitchen as I try to get rid of the stuff in the sink.
“Is this acceptable?” He reappears with a different shirt, shoes, and his hair hidden beneath a baseball cap. I lift an eyebrow.
“Are you trying to get your ass kicked?”
“Ah, come on, a little rivalry never hurt anyone.”
I laugh. “Famous last words from someone going to the Bronx wearing a Red Sox hat.”
As we walk downstairs, I text Bennett a heads-up.
Me: My brother’s wearing a Red Sox hat.
Bennett: WTF? Does he have a death wish? He doesn’t even like baseball
Me: Exactly.
I glance up at Devon. “Bennett wants to know if you have a death wish.”
“Hilarious.” He rolls his eyes. “Since when are you texting buddies?”
“I don’t know. It kind of just happened.” I put my phone away quickly.
Maybe I should come clean about this whole thing with Bennett. I chance a peek at my brother, who’s still brooding since he saw the news about his team and decide against it. There’s no way I’m telling him this right now. He’s older than me and for a long time his friends seemed like an extension of him. That is, until I saw Bennett in their shared college apartment that time. That was the first time it hit me that the guys my brother hung out around were living, breathing, super-hot guys and I kind of wished the age gap wasn’t that wide. These days I don’t feel the distance between us. It’s not like he’s gotten younger, but we have so much in common and I feel so close to Nora, that being around them is seamless. That is, until the moment I mention I’m sort-of dating his best friend. I know that would be the moment when all bets are off. Even though he’s never warned me away from his friends, he’s definitely made it clear to them to stay away from me. It’s all been in jest, with a laugh and a pat on the back, but I know him well enough to know he’s serious.
“Bennett’s a good guy,” Devon says, and I swear I feel my heart drop into the pit of my stomach. I hold my breath for the rest of the statement. “But he’s been through a lot of crap and I’m not sure he’s ready to give any woman what they need. Not what you need.” He shoots me a pointed look that I avoid by clicking the L for lobby in the elevator steadily, as if the elevator is going to move any faster because of that. “You’ve been through too much too.”
“I don’t know where you’re going with this conversation, but I’m feeling really awkward and uncomfortable right now.”
Devon chuckles. It’s not an amused sound. “Yeah, well, I’m not feeling very comfortable either, but something tells me I need to warn you to stay away from my best friend.”
The elevator doors open. Thank God. I rush out of there like I’m on fire. We need to stop talking. He needs to stop talking. I definitely underestimated my brother’s intuition, thinking he would never in a billion years figure this out, but if he’s talking about this and he hasn’t even hung out with us, I don’t even know what the hell I’m going to do when I see Bennett at the store. Steadily avoid him, I guess. Thankfully, Dev starts talking about his quarterback again and that takes up the entire ride to Queens and he’s still going as we get out of the car and walk up to the store.
“This is where you’re getting your suit for your wedding?” I look up and down the street dubiously. “I mean, if you need to borrow money, Dev—”
“Shut up. According to Bennett, this guy is the best in the east.” He laughs, holding the door open for me.
“Hm.” I’m taken aback, first by the smell of leather, and then by the appearance of the place. It looks like Barneys threw up its entire men’s designer suit collection smack in the midd
le of the projects. “This is definitely unexpected.”
“Told you,” my brother says. Two men come up to us dressed in nice suits—one navy, the other in black. They’re clearly father and son, even though the son has long dreads and the father is clean-cut. They both have kind eyes and warm smiles as they greet us.
“It’s a pleasure having you here, Mr. Tucker,” the older man says, shaking my brother’s hand before turning toward me. “I assume you’re the future Mrs. Tucker?”
“Oh, no.” I laugh. “She’s back home. I’m his sister.”
“Ah.” The man’s eyes light up. “My name is Michael Hannah. I go by Mike though.”
“Nice to meet you, Mike.”
“I’m also Mike,” the younger one says, greeting us. “Some people call him Mike Senior to differentiate. Most of my friends call me Jamaican Mike.”
“Jamaican Mike,” I say, smiling. “I like that.”
He shrugs a shoulder. “It’s easy to remember.”
“Nora’s Jamaican,” I say, nodding over to Devon. “His fiancée.”
“Oh, yeah?” He turns his attention over to Devon again.
They start talking about Nora’s grandmother’s cooking skills, but the door opens behind us again and when I turn and see Bennett walking toward us, their words mute in my ears. He’s wearing a sharp blue suit and white button-down shirt. I lick my lips as he closes the distance between us, his gaze still on mine. I remind myself that I’m supposed to not make this obvious. I’m supposed to look away and pretend we’re just friends, just coworkers, just brought together by a mutual loved one—who happens to be my overly protective older brother and someone neither of us should want to upset especially today—but it’s easier said than done. He smiles at me; it’s a warm, yet sexy smile, a secret smile that speaks volumes, as he walks up to me, picks up my hand and places a kiss onto it. I swear I feel like I may just melt right there. He releases me, breaking our connection, and walks over to one of the Mikes—Senior, I realize as I turn around fully.
“My boy,” Mike Senior says. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”
“You should’ve never left,” Bennett says, saying hello to the other Mike with the same hug and handshake while still looking at his father. “Ever since you let Mikey take over, this shop hasn’t been the same.”
The son scoffs and says something in Jamaican that I know is a curse, but I don’t understand. Evidently, Bennett does, with the way he throws his head back in laughter and punches him in the shoulder. He says hi to my brother next, the same hug and handshake, turning to face both Mikes.
“This is my best friend. He wanted to go to the department store but I told him I take my duty as best man seriously and wouldn’t have lived with myself if he didn’t come here first.”
“You did good,” the older Mike says with a laugh.
They walk over to a rack that’s been separated from the rest of the clothes and start to show Devon different tuxedos and suits. I focus on messaging Nora and letting her know we’re at the store and fill her in on the details. She tells me our bridesmaid dresses are powder-pink, so as long as he keeps that in mind, he’s free to pick whatever he wants. Bennett dresses impeccably, so I walk over to where there are two chairs and take a seat in one of them. They can figure it out amongst themselves and if they need me, they’ll let me know. I pull up the dating app and scroll through to see if I have any unread messages from Owl, and there’s one from this morning.
Owl: You’ve been quiet
Me: My brother’s going through a work crisis. I’m helping him pick out his tux for his wedding now
It takes a few minutes for him to respond.
Owl: Sounds fun
Me: Eh. I’d rather be at work
Owl: Pretty sure you’re the first person to ever say that
Me: It’s because I love what I do and I do what I love
Owl: Lucky girl
Me: You don’t love what you do?
Owl: Most days. Sometimes I wish I could do something else
Me: Why can’t you?
Owl: It’s complicated
“Morgan.” My brother’s voice booms from what I assume is the fitting room area. I push a button on my phone and put it in my purse as I stand up and head over there. When I do, I find the younger Mike and Bennett standing around Devon as the older Mike pins the sleeve of the jacket. I look at my brother in the mirror and smile.
“You actually look presentable.”
“Gee, thanks.” He chuckles. “Do you like this one?”
“A lot.” I give him a once-over. It’s a classic tuxedo with a bright pink handkerchief peeking out of the pocket. “That’s not the right pink, but that’s an easy fix.”
“Nora said pink.”
“Yeah, powder-pink, not fuchsia.”
“Here. Pick one out,” Young Mike says, bringing a box of handkerchiefs over. I pluck out the powder-pink one.
“Are all of the guys wearing tuxedos?”
Devon looks at Bennett. “What do you think?”
“It depends. If you want you can wear a tux and the rest of us can wear suits.” Bennett shrugs. “What does Nora want?”
“She’s too focused on making sure everything else is perfect. I told her I’d handle this.”
“And she trusted you to do that?” Bennett frowns.
“No. She trusted you to,” Devon says.
I laugh. “The wedding is outdoors. Maybe suits for the rest of the guys would be a good contrast? They can wear pink ties or something.”
“I like that.” Bennett smiles at me. “What do you think, Dev?”
“I think you two should make yourselves useful while I finish up here and show me whatever you pick when you’re finished.”
“Benny, you know where the regular suits are,” Young Mike says. “I would go with you but my hands are tied.” He lifts his hands to show us all the pins he’s holding for his dad.
“I think I know my way around this place better than you do.”
“Offer the girl water while you’re at it,” Mike Senior says.
“And look at the shoes,” Devon says.
“I guess it’s safe to say Bennett can get a part-time job here if things don’t work out at SEVEN,” I say.
They all laugh, but it’s Bennett’s deep chuckle beside me that makes my heart stutter. I ignore it as I turn around and follow him out of the dressing room, through the main area, to the other side of the store.
“This place is massive. You’d never know from looking at it from the outside.”
“They have big clients,” Bennett says.
“I can imagine.” I start to go through the suits. “How’d you find out about it?”
“A friend of mine, Lorenzo. He’s Italian and always wears the sharpest suits. I used to think he was spending a fortune at high-end stores until I asked and he told me to come here.”
“Where you don’t spend a fortune,” I say, slash ask, because the price on the sleeve of the suit I’m looking at states otherwise.
“The rack you’re looking at is the crème de la crème.” Bennett chuckles. “Mike’s prices range, but ten out of ten you’re going to find better quality here than you will anywhere else. I’d take one of his eighty-dollar suits over an eight-hundred-dollar Armani any day.”
“Big praise coming from you.” I let my gaze run down his body slowly. His suits really do fit him like they were made for him, and now I know why.
“If you keep looking at me like that, people are going to get ideas, Cupid.”
“I can’t help it,” I whisper, meeting his eyes again. “And Devon is being weird like he knows something, by the way. I dodged his questions earlier about why we were texting and he told me to stay away from you.”
“He told you to stay away from me?” He raises an eyebrow as he walks over to me. “I should be flattered that my best friend is trying to keep my heart safe.”
“Your heart safe?” My eyes widen. He brings a hand up to my face as
he continues to look at me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever seen.
“I’m fragile, you know.”
I snort out a laugh. “You’re so full of crap.”
“Am I?” He comes even closer still. “I’ve been through a lot of heartache.”
“So have I.”
“I would never break your heart though.”
“I would never break yours.”
“I have my doubts about that, Cupid.”
“Rule number one, never doubt me, Trouble.”
His lips come down so softly that I barely feel them on mine, but I swear I feel them everywhere else and I think, not for the first time, that this thing between us runs a lot deeper than the stolen moments we’ve shared. He breaks the kiss just as slowly as it started and presses his forehead against mine, exhaling.
“I missed you this morning.”
“I missed you,” I admit. “I thought you were going to come over and help with Dev.”
“I’m here now.”
I smile, because he is, and that’s the only thing that matters.
Chapter Thirty
Bennett
Even if Morgan hadn’t told me that Devon suspected something was going on between us, I would’ve guessed from the way he’s been watching our every move. On one hand, I’m dying to scream it out so we can just be open about this. On the other hand, I need to respect Morgan’s wishes to not tell her brother. It sucks because we’re sitting across from each other at a restaurant and the urge to reach out and touch her hand is driving me fucking crazy.
“How’s the dating app going?” Devon asks.
I cover my face with the menu as Morgan answers, “It’s going.”
“So you still haven’t met him in person?” he asks.
“Maybe, maybe not.”
“You’ve met him?” I lower my menu. “Isn’t that against the rules?”
“What do you know about the rules?” Devon lifts an eyebrow. “Did you join?”
The Trouble With Love Page 14
