“He should’ve kept his fucking hands off my brother,” David said.
They all started arguing, but were quickly interrupted by a couple of bouncers and a guy who was most likely the manager. “Gentlemen, it’s time you left.”
The group all glared at one another as they walked out of the club. Once outside, David’s friends decided to take cabs back to the hotel. After they took off, David plopped down on a nearby bench. Jace and Gabe looked at Ben, who nodded at them, and they got on the party bus to wait for them. Ben sank down next to David. “Well, that was interesting.”
David let out a humorless laugh. “You could say that.” He leaned forward so his forearms rested on his thighs, and clasped his hands together. “Thanks for having my back.”
“’Course,” Ben replied, though he knew the response was stupid. Him having David’s back was far from a given. “Want to tell me what that was all about?”
David rubbed a hand over his face and let out a deep sigh. “Natasha made me promise I wouldn’t get a lap dance. She said looking was fine, but she drew the line at touching.”
Ben looked over at his brother. He couldn’t help but respect a guy who would keep a promise like that, especially since it was unlikely his bride-to-be would have ever found out.
“You probably think it’s lame,” David added.
“Why would I think it was lame?”
“You’re a professional athlete. I’m sure you’ve been around way wilder stuff. Naked girls and lap dances are probably a regular occurrence for you.”
“I’m a hockey player, not a pimp,” Ben replied. He kept his tone neutral even though it stung how little his brother knew him. Or how little he thought of him apparently.
David turned toward him, his gaze assessing his brother, and Ben wondered if maybe he hadn’t kept the hurt out of his voice as well as he’d hoped. “That was a shitty thing to say.” David looked down at his hands as he rubbed them together slowly before looking back at Ben. “I’m sorry.”
Ben took a sharp inhale at the words. Even though David wasn’t apologizing for what had happened between them years ago, the fact that he was apologizing at all—something he hadn’t done since long before their fight over Natasha—soothed something inside Ben. It felt like progress. And Ben would take that however it came. “Don’t worry about it.”
They looked at one another for a bit longer, letting the words mean more than maybe they should have. Regardless, when David stood and held a hand out to help Ben up, Ben grabbed it, and for the first time in a long time, let himself rely on his brother not to let him fall.
* * *
Ryan looked around at the large room with high ceilings and white walls. “This is . . . fun,” she said, trying to put enough inflection in her voice to make her sound believable.
When Natasha had invited Ryan to her bachelorette party, Ryan was warmed by the invitation. Now she was kind of wishing Natasha had rethought asking her to come. Not that painting was a bad time per se. It just wasn’t Ryan’s idea of a good time either.
“Yours looks so good. Mine doesn’t resemble the picture at all,” Renee said as she leaned in to look at Ryan’s painting.
They had been tasked with painting a night scene with lightning bugs flying around. Ryan had dumped a bunch of dark blue paint on her canvas and then put yellow splotches all over it. If Renee’s looked worse, she should have to repeat kindergarten.
Natasha’s bridesmaids all worked with a focus that Ryan thought would have rivaled Michelangelo’s when he painted the Sistine Chapel. They also all oohed and ahhed over Natasha’s work like the success of her marriage depended on the outcome of this BYOB painting party.
Taking another sip of her water, Ryan decided to go for broke and add a moon. There wasn’t one in the model, but she was feeling rebellious.
Ryan was surprised that Ben’s and Natasha’s moms hadn’t come along. It wasn’t like they were going to get rowdy and make bad decisions that they wouldn’t want the family matriarchs to witness.
The night plodded along with the women downing three bottles of wine between the seven of them and exuberant conversation that echoed off the walls and felt like knives being driven into Ryan’s ears.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like all the women who were there. What little time she’d spent with them had been positive. But they were acting like high school cheerleaders at homecoming—which Ryan had neither been to nor desired to go to—instead of playing with paint in a room that looked like an adult preschool.
Once they all finished and posed for pictures with their paintings, they walked out onto the street, carrying the evidence of their shortcomings like Academy Awards.
“Should we walk to the karaoke bar? We could burn off the calories from dinner,” Deirdre said with the excitement only capable of coming from someone who worked as a Zumba instructor. She’d invited Ryan to one of her classes upon meeting her, which was a sweet gesture even though it made her infinitely happy that she and Ben were leaving Connecticut the day after the wedding.
Thinking of Ben prompted Ryan to check her phone. Even though she’d told Ben to stop texting her, she was kind of disappointed he’d listened. She was going to need something to occupy her while she watched people sing karaoke.
The group agreed to walk so they made their way down the busy street that was teeming with bars and restaurants. Ryan took in the bright lights and activity around her before pointing her finger at one specific place. “What’s Honky Tonk?”
Renee looked to where Ryan was pointing before saying, “Oh, that place just opened up. It’s supposed to be a southern-inspired bar, but I haven’t been there.”
“It says they have a mechanical bull,” Ryan noted.
“Oh my God, could you imagine us riding a mechanical bull?” Jasmine asked.
“No,” Sascha replied with a laugh.
The group had stopped and stared at the building with curiosity. “That’s totally why we should do it,” Ryan said.
They all turned to look at her. “I don’t know,” Sacha said.
Ryan pressed on. “Come on. Bachelorette parties are for doing things outside of your comfort zone.” Not that she’d been to any before, but whatever got these girls to go into Honky Tonk and forget about karaoke was a win. “It’ll make for a great story.”
The story angle was evidently the right one to play, because the girls all quickly agreed and they made their way into the bar.
The first thing Ryan noticed was how crowded it was. There were peanut shells all over the floor, and the décor had an old saloon feel to it. There was a band playing country music and people were dancing on the small dance floor. Ryan was also surprised to find a diverse mix of people inside, which made it even more inviting. This was the kind of place you made memories in.
The women crowded around the bar and ordered drinks. Renee turned to ask Ryan what she wanted, to which Ryan replied, “A water is good.”
Renee gave her an odd look before turning back to the bar and ordering a bottle of water. When she handed it to Ryan, she asked, “I noticed you didn’t have anything to drink earlier either. Not that it’s any of my business, but is it okay that we’re all drinking?”
Christ, she thinks I’m an alcoholic. Renee looked genuinely concerned, and Ryan appreciated it. “It’s fine. I don’t have a problem or anything like that. Just not a big drinker myself.”
Renee didn’t look completely appeased by the explanation, but it would have to do. Ryan wasn’t really in the mood to go into her family history of substance abuse with Ben’s future in-law. Thankfully, Renee just nodded and offered her a small smile before turning toward the rest of the girls. They all raised their glasses in some kind of cheers before draining them and ordering another round. The mixed drinks combined with all the wine they’d already consumed made them relax almost instantly. Before long, the women were all jumping around the dance floor like lunatics who’d escaped from an asylum. And despite being completely sober
, it was still the most fun Ryan had had in a long time.
Another round later, the mechanical bull was finally mentioned. “I think Natasha should try it,” Joy said slyly.
“Oh no. I’m not breaking my neck right before my wedding. Someone else do it.”
The women bickered about why they each were an unsuitable sacrifice to the mechanical bull gods. After a few minutes, Ryan had had enough. “I’ll do it.”
“Really?” Sascha asked, practically oozing with excitement.
Ryan shrugged. “Sure.” She’d been watching people try it since they’d walked in. And while no one was going to be the next big bullrider on the circuit, it didn’t look too bad. What was the worst that could happen?
The worst that could happen was the girls’ squealing attracting the attention of every person in the bar. Everyone watched as Ryan put on the cowboy hat they handed her and climbed on the fake bull. Her eyes glanced at the clock and the dry-erase board of times next to it as she moved around to find the most comfortable position she could. She was pretty sure each of the girls had a cell phone pointed in her direction, but she didn’t pay them much mind as she tightly gripped the rope and threw her other hand in the air. If she was going to do this, she was going to commit.
The motion of the bull started off slowly. Ryan quickly found its rhythm and went with it. However, as soon as she’d gotten acclimated, the speed increased. Then it increased some more. Soon, Ryan’s forearm was burning as she tried to hang on. Her thighs were getting tired from trying to grip the bull. She was just about to give up when she heard someone yell, “You’re ten seconds away from the record. Hang on!”
And suddenly, Ryan was overcome with the desire to have a piece of herself remain in this town when she left it. Most likely she’d never get the chance to come back, but she could leave her mark on it all the same. Even if that mark only constituted her name on a dry-erase board.
When the ten seconds passed, the entire place erupted in a raucous cheer. Ryan got so caught up in the celebration, she flew off the bull and landed on the mat with a hard thwack. She lay there for a minute, letting her breath come back to her, and letting the thrill of victory pulse through her.
The girls gathered around her, yelling about how awesome she was while they helped her up. It was a beautiful moment—one Ryan was sure she’d always remember. But just in case—“Please tell me one of you got that on video.”
Chapter Thirty-One
Ben looked at himself in the mirror one last time before hitting the bathroom light and stepping out into the hotel room. He held out his arms to the side. “How do I look?”
Biting her lip, Ryan’s eyes appraised him seductively. “I like it more than I thought.”
“Like what? The clean-shaven look or the beard?” he asked, running a hand over his smooth face. He’d had some sort of facial hair for so long it felt weird not to have any at all. Like he’d gone to the grocery store and realized he’d forgotten to put on pants.
“The clean-shaven look. You were sexy with a beard, so I wasn’t sure how you’d look without one. Turns out you look hot all the time.”
“I thought you saw pictures online that day you looked me up.”
“I did. But Google images don’t quite do you justice.” She smiled and tilted her head, placing her hands behind her on the bed and leaning back a bit. “How much time do you have before you have to meet the guys in the other room to get ready?”
“Not enough.” Though looking at Ryan in the tight white T-shirt she’d worn to bed made him check his watch once more. He let out a noise that sounded like a groan and a sigh had some sort of aggravated love child. “Yeah, not enough.”
She got up from the bed and walked toward him, the hem of her shirt hitting just above her panties. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll have to make this memorable.” Then she grabbed his cheeks and kissed the hell out of him.
It caused a stir in his pants that made him consider being a few minutes late, but he thought better of it. “Later,” he said against her lips. Reluctantly he removed his hands from her ass and turned to grab his tux from the closet. “I’ll see you at the wedding,” he said.
And as he left, he thought how he couldn’t wait to do exactly that. He’d only seen her in the dress she’d gotten for the wedding one other time, and he was excited for the repeat appearance. He was thankful for the distraction that visions of Ryan provided as he made his way down the hall to the room David had booked for all the groomsmen to get ready in.
Ben was glad for it because otherwise, as the best man, he would’ve felt obligated to let the guys get ready in his own room. But that would have meant that Ryan would have had to leave, and she really had nowhere to go. He already felt bad enough that she’d be on her own for most of the day, but she’d told him repeatedly that it was no big deal. She’d been on her own most of her life, she’d reminded him. The fact that it was the truth didn’t make him feel any better.
Ben could already hear the muffled voices of the groomsmen as he approached the door. Opening it up, he saw that everyone, including David, was there—and had clearly found the beer Ben requested to be stocked in the fridge. Most of the guys were sitting around in various chairs and on the edge of the bed, beer in hand.
They barely acknowledged his entrance, though he didn’t expect them to. The bachelor party had done pretty much the opposite of its purpose. It had created an awkwardness between David and his friends—and Ben and David’s friends—that would be difficult to move past. Since the photographer would be there any minute to take pictures of the guys tying their bow ties and buttoning their shirts and other dumb shit, no one was in more than sweatpants and an undershirt.
David gave him a nod from where he was standing by the window, looking out onto the water. After hanging up his tux, Ben walked over to him, giving him a friendly pat on the back. It was something he did, rather than thought about, and David’s small smile told him that the gesture comforted him. “How ya feelin’?” Ben asked, noting the exhaustion around David’s eyes. He was sure his brother had been up most of the night.
“The truth?” David raised an eyebrow like he wasn’t sure if the question had only been a polite greeting.
“I asked, didn’t I?”
David let out a deep sigh through his nose and pulled open the door to the balcony. “Like I need some fresh air.”
Ben followed him outside, shutting the door behind him. He stood next to David, both of them leaning against the railing as they looked out over the water. After a few quiet minutes, his brother turned to him. “Am I crazy?”
“What?”
“Just answer the question.”
“You’re asking a guy who basically takes a beating for a living. I don’t think I’m qualified to assess what’s sane and what isn’t.”
David exhaled, setting his beer on the ledge but keeping his fingers on it. “Playing a professional sport for a living doesn’t make you crazy.”
“It does if you have our parents.” The guys laughed, but then quickly sobered. “For real, though. Why would I think you’re crazy for getting married?”
David shrugged before taking a sip of his beer. “I don’t know. Part of me thinks if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. Like marriage will ruin our relationship or something.”
“Nah,” Ben said. “Marriage doesn’t ruin a relationship. Kids do.” Ben couldn’t help but add a bit of lightness to their conversation. It was like he didn’t know how to interact with David this way, so adding some humor made Ben feel a little more at ease. But he knew he wasn’t the one who needed to feel relaxed. His brother was asking for his opinion, asking for his advice on what was the most important day of his life. And Ben would make sure he didn’t fuck it up. “You love her, right?”
David pulled his head back and narrowed his eyes like the question was stupid. “Of course I love her.”
Ben gave his brother a half smile, one where only one side of his mouth put in any effort. “The
n you’re not crazy for marrying her. You’d be crazy if you didn’t.”
The men were silent for a few seconds, both seeming to let the weight of the moment settle between them. It was as if the ocean breeze carried off any remaining tension.
“You think you’ll marry Ryan?” David asked.
Ben hadn’t been expecting the question, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t something he’d thought about. As much as they cared for one another and enjoyed spending time together, Ben knew their relationship had an expiration date. They couldn’t spend days fabricating elements of Ryan’s life to appease Ben’s parents only to one day tell them that everything they thought they knew about Ryan was a lie. So Ben answered the only way he could. “I doubt it.”
“Why not?”
“It’s . . . complicated,” Ben said.
David nodded thoughtfully, like he understood. Ben was about to usher his brother back into the room to begin getting ready when David asked a question that made Ben freeze in place. “You love her?”
How the hell did he respond to that? “I thought this day was supposed to be about you,” Ben joked.
David laughed. “Wedding days are never about the groom,” he said. “Maybe one day you’ll find that out firsthand.”
“Probably not,” Ben said. “Then I’d have to stop going to all those strip clubs and letting half-naked women grind on me. What would I do with all my free time?”
David rolled his eyes as he turned toward the door to the room.
“Come on,” Ben said. “Let’s go get you married.”
* * *
When she was young, Ryan used to dream of getting married in a place exactly like this one: ridiculously high ceilings, grand white pillars framing the archways, elegantly tall windows that looked out onto a seemingly endless expanse of grass. It was probably the greenest grass Ryan had ever seen, not to mention the thickest. She imagined that she could lie down on it without the blades even bending underneath her.
Not that she actually would. At least not in the gown Ben had bought her. She hadn’t wanted to see the price tag when she’d tried it on, preferring not to focus on the fact that it probably cost more than she’d paid in rent for the past year. But apparently Ben thought it was worth it because during the few minutes he’d gotten to talk to her in between the ceremony and the reception, he told her how beautiful she looked at least four or five times.
The Proposition Page 20
