“Checking on him now. Aunt Laverne still wants to keep him. He’s having waffles with his cousins.”
“Oh, that sounds good.” I rolled onto my side and propped my head up on my hand. Miraculously my sins of the night before stayed put. “Maybe it would soak up the alcohol in my gut. Or maybe one of those full breakfasts, Aunt Laverne makes.” I curled around the coolness of the pillow, sighing as it soothed my chest.
Why was my skin so hot?
“Well, get your grain alcohol-soaked self in the shower and she’ll feed you.”
I sat up with a wince, looking down at myself. “What happened to my chest?”
“You played MoonPong with my brother is what happened.”
I grimaced when my hand came back sticky. Flashes of memory rudely intruded as I groaned. “Isn’t Hayes the nice one?”
“Babe, none of my brothers are the nice one. When will you get that through your brain?”
I rubbed the grit out of my eyes with the back of my hand and yelped when the trail of sticky burning ripped out one of my happy trail hairs. Vaguely I remembered tossing back shot after shot as Hayes got the little white ball in my cups far too many times.
I stumbled out of bed and down the stairs and then crossed to the bathroom on the bottom level. I hummed my pleasure at the upgrade to the shower as the water pressure brought me back to life.
Ten minutes later, I felt a bit more human. Even more so when I stole a bit of baby lotion Magic kept in her bag for emergencies.
The fact that there was enough alcohol in that bloody moonshine to eat away at my flesh was concerning. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what it had done to my insides.
The Manning men were of hearty farm stock and I was not, no matter how much I tried to keep up with them.
When I returned to the living room, I found Magic already dressed. “You’re not showering?”
“I will at the Lodge. The girls want to show me the bridal suite they set up for me. Evidently there’s a decadent tub waiting for me and Margo brought in a masseuse for all of us.”
“What if I want a massage?”
“Good luck with that. Pretty sure my bridal party is a little more organized.” Magic went onto her toes and kissed my chin. “Last night will have to cover you until you see me down the aisle.”
“What? Wait. We have two days.”
“Busy. I have to do all the primping things you don’t have to worry about.” She tugged on my curls, currently growing out. I’d lopped off a good bit of them during our brief breakup, but she liked my long hair.
And what Magic wanted, Magic got.
“Actually, I’m pretty sure Simon booked us somewhere nearby tonight. He mentioned something about exfoliating.”
She played with my hair. “Just don’t cut any of this off.”
“Deal.” I laced my fingers at her lower back. “Are you sure I have to be away from you for two days? That seems eternal.”
“Lila is picking me up, but you’ll see me at the rehearsal dinner tonight. Don’t be late or my mother will skin you alive and use you as fertilizer for her orchids.”
“A very vivid threat. Nothing could keep me away.” I dropped a kiss on her nose.
She threaded her fingers into my hair and dragged me down for a much more thorough and toe-curling kiss. Then she swept out the door, checking her phone again with a wave.
I glanced around the room for my own phone and found it plugged in our travel charger. Flicking it open, I noticed a half dozen messages from my brother and Rory, my best friend. He was coming in with Flynn for the wedding. Rory lived locally, but he and his bride were forever traveling with their child these days.
Kinda like me and my love.
Flynn had locked himself in his place to work on a new album. I’d wondered if he would come up for air enough to remember about my big day. I didn’t hold it against him. I knew how it felt when music had me in its grip.
I answered everyone and agreed to meet at the café at the orchard for a filling breakfast before we started the primping session. I wanted to look good for my bride and that included a little maintenance.
Late summer still had its stranglehold on Central New York, so I went with a pair of ancient jeans and a Rolling Stones T-shirt. As I was locking the barn door, a large truck pulled up the winding drive.
Rory Ferguson stuck his head out. “Get in, ya wanker. We have to make you look less like a sewer rat and more like a posh twat.”
My best friend’s heavy Irish accent lifted on the wind. I was pretty sure he’d had Guinness with his morning fare. “Fuck off.”
He held out a thermos when I reached the car. “Sustenance.”
“I was looking for a full breakfast first.”
Flynn leaned forward. “Well, you get what you get and you’ll like it.”
I sighed and took a hit from the thermos, coughing as the whiskey laced coffee burned hot down my throat. “You are going to get me into trouble. If I’m late for the rehearsal dinner, Magic will roast my nuts.”
“Eh, it’s fine. They’re already in a jar on her bedside table, kid.” Flynn turned up the radio as Waylon Jennings blasted out of his speakers.
It was an extended cab, which meant I had an inch of leg room in the back. By the third sip of “coffee”, I had no concerns whatsoever. Happily, I sang along to Asia’s “Heat of the Moment” as we headed into Turnbull.
I should have known better than to trust Rory. When we pulled up at Lucky’s, the main bar in town, I was feeling fine.
“I’m supposed to be getting spiffed up.”
“There’s time for that,” Rory said, toasting me with his thermos.
“Not that much time.”
“You worry too much,” Flynn said with a rusty chuckle. “As long as we dunk you in the shower before the big day, it’s all good.”
“Right. All good.” I took another healthy glug from my thermos. Distantly, I considered that I didn’t taste the liquor anymore.
No problem. The good stuff was almost indistinguishable, right?
Like this is the good stuff?
Inside Lucky’s, Nick and Simon were at the bar. The Manning brothers—my future family—were playing darts on the second level. Most of the room was filled with rockstars of the male persuasion.
The badass bartender was slinging drinks along the back as a half dozen waitstaff trucked out tray after tray of bar food. My thermos was replaced with a foamy beer with a suspicious shot glass sitting at the bottom.
Flynn went right to the bartender with his full swagger engaged and I was pulled into the circle of men at the center of the bar. All of us were holding the same liquor concoction.
“Ever tried a car bomb, boyo?”
I winced. “No, I sure haven’t.”
“What do you English do for fun?” Rory hooked an arm around my shoulders and I knew he was definitely way ahead of me with whatever a car bomb was.
“We’re more of a pint or tea situation.”
“Bah. Whiskey and beer are like lovers reunited. Sláinte!”
I shrugged and knocked it back, praying that my liver would survive this moment. “We need to be at the rehearsal by six.”
The music lifted and so did the glasses.
We had hours before the rehearsal. It would be fine.