11. Marcus
11
Marcus
“Dude, are you feeling okay?”
With my fingers on the last button of my shirt, I turn to face Noah's concerned stare. “Don’t I look okay to you?”
My longtime friend and business partner points at my torso. “You put your shirt on inside-out.”
“Huh?” I glance down and see the visible design of my shirt. "Crap," I mutter, undoing the buttons.
"And your socks."
With a scoff, I yank them off then shrug out of my shirt. Noah’s gray eyes sparkle as he sniggers.
"What, dude?" I ask impatiently.
"Sure you're feeling okay? Your undershirt is on backward."
A quick glance in the mirror shows the tag, confirming that not only is it on backward, I've slipped it on inside-out too.
Another snigger comes from Noah as he sweeps his long blond hair into a ponytail. "One would think you're the one getting married today. You're nervous as hell."
"I'm not nervous," I reply, hauling the shirt over my head. "Got a lot on my mind, that’s all."
Like seeing Lauren again. Fuck .
The front door of the hotel suite swings open, and Gabriel pauses in the doorway, his thick brows cocked at me. "Of all the days to be lagging behind. The photographer will be leaving Zyon's suite in a few minutes. Hurry."
Despite those words, there's no hint of urgency on his face as he lifts his navy-blue jacket from the back of the armchair. He slips it on, looking calm, cool, and collected. Ready.
Damn. My best buddy is getting hitched today. Another one bites the dust.
And if my dad has his way, so will I.
Gabriel adjusts the sleeves while addressing me. "Whatever's on your mind, speak now or forever hold your peace. I don't want my best man spacing out up there."
Trust me, you don’t want to know. "It’s nothing," I reply, dragging my socks on the right way. "Besides, today's your day. It’s not about me."
"I'm making it about you," Gabriel replies as he checks his Rolex. "Well, at least for the next five minutes before the photographer gets here."
“Seriously, Gabriel. It’s nothing.”
He gives me a firm stare, one that means he has no plans of letting it go. With a sigh, I get my shirt on and start buttoning it. "What I'm about to say can't leave this room.”
"Understood," Noah replies while Gabriel nods slowly, his speculative eyes searching my face.
"Dad got diagnosed with stage four prostate cancer," I begin, and their mouths fall open.
"The fuck?" Noah hisses.
Gabriel expression settles as he drags his fingers through his dark hair. "Goddamnit. I'm sorry, man. "
I wave off his comment, although my emotions are far from casual, especially since I'm being open about a situation that's already tragic to me. "He has two years. Estimated, anyway. If he responds well to treatment, it could be more."
Gabriel breathes a harsh sigh, and I immediately feel terrible. "This is definitely not the kind of news I wanted to share on a day like this. I don't want to ruin—"
He cuts me off with a bear hug that squeezes out my emotions. Noah joins in, wrapping his arms around us as the first round of sobs tear from my lips. So much has happened since Dad’s terrible announcement, and I haven’t had a chance to truly process the news. Now, with my best buddies’ arms looped around me, I have no choice but to let it all out.
A sudden knock on the door makes Noah pull back and hurry toward it. "Can you give us a couple minutes?" he asks. "We'll call you when we're ready. Thanks."
He comes back to us as I ease away from Gabriel with a sniffle. "You fuckers made me cry," I joke, wiping my face.
Gabriel squeezes my shoulder, smiling softly. "And we'll do it again if it means getting you back on track. I’m not used to seeing you so uptight. That's my gig."
I laugh at his comment, which makes his features brighten even more. "Good to have you back. Now, come on. Zyon's been waiting to make an honest man out of your boy." He points at me with mock amusement. “Something you’ll never get to say, at the rate you’re going.”
I scoff. “You’d be surprised.”
Two pairs of questioning eyes turn on me.
“What’s that’s supposed to mean?” Noah asks.
“Dad wants me to marry Harper before he dies,” I explain.
Gabriel crosses his arms over his chest, lines forming on his forehead as he frowns darkly. "You're pranking us, right?"
"Wish I was, dude."
Noah scoffs. "Does Mr. Brady even know what she did to you? Twice?"
I shake my head. "And he's not going to find out, either."
Noah opens his mouth to protest, but I interrupt him with a raised hand. "I don't intend to tell him. Harper’s dad and mine have been best friends since high school, and I don't want to cause any bad blood between them."
"So you'd rather spend the rest of your life with a lying, cheating bi—"
"Don't even fucking go there." I lash Noah with the hardest stare I can muster. "Regardless of what she did, there's no need for any disrespect."
Noah glares back, his mouth twisting in anger. He's usually the voice of reason, the mild-mannered peacemaker, but I'm not surprised he's so furious. Ten years have passed since Harper twice fucked with my head, and he'd been a front-row witness both times. In fact, five years ago, it was he who ran into her at a couples retreat in Miami with Armand Brosnan, an NBA star.
One month after she begged my forgiveness for sleeping with another ball player in college.
Two weeks after I finally gave in.
Five days before we planned on letting our families know that we'd rekindled our romance.
“What Harper did was messed up, but that was a long time ago. I'm over it.” The lie flows easily off my tongue. “There's no need to be angry on my account, not anymore.”
"Doesn't mean you should marry her, though," Gabriel's response comes from behind me. “If your dad is so concerned about your bachelor lifestyle, you could always marry someone else. Anyone but her.”
“I wish it was that simple, trust me, but Dad insists that it must be her.”
“Why? Noah asks, still pissed off.
I shrug. “A million-dollar question he hasn’t yet answered, unfortunately. I can’t help feeling there’s more behind the request, though.”
“Yeah…” Gabriel muses. “Something feels off to me.”
Another knock sounds on the door, and Gabriel sobers up, blowing out an excited breath. “Let’s table this discussion for another time. I’m ready to meet my wife!”
"I’d be pissing my pants right now, I swear to God."
Noah snickers at his own remark. With an amused chuckle, I look to Gabriel on my right, casually adjusting his tie, his expression as calm as a Sunday morning. There's not even the hint of a sweat bead anywhere. I tuck the handkerchief in my pocket. I have a feeling there won't be a need for it today.
"How the hell is he so calm?" Noah mutters. "You'd think he's getting ready for a board meeting or something."
"Because he's been ready for this," I mutter back. "This is what he wants, and he knows it."
Despite saying that, I can't deny that this entire scene feels surreal.
After knowing Gabriel for the last thirty years, I still can’t believe we're standing on the rooftop of a grand hotel, two hundred guests seated on golden chairs before us, the Empire State Building in the background. Gabriel was never the sappy type, yet there are elaborate floral arrangements adorning every vantage point, including the wedding arch behind us. A romantic ballad fills the open space. The atmosphere feels warm and intimate, despite the weather being in the sixties today.
Five years ago, when his parents finally ended their toxic marriage, Gabriel vowed he wouldn’t settle down. Meeting Zyon changed everything. He won't admit it, but Gabriel had been hooked from the first night they met.
Never say never, I guess. I wonder what that means for me.
Gabriel glances at us now, a soft smile pulling his lips apart. "Damn right, this is what I want," he says as the interlude changes.
At the end of the hallway, the double doors open. Crimson red immediately fills the doorway, and I perk up immediately.
She’s floating. At least, that’s how it appears. The train of her body-hugging dress glides over the rose-petal-filled aisle as she slowly makes her way toward us. A rhythmic tapping goes off in my ear, and it takes me a few seconds to realize it’s the pounding of my heartbeat. Something else moves in my chest, like a nervous flutter. I shift my gaze downward. This is weird. I should not be reacting to her like this.
Oh, boy.
Raising my eyes, I glance over at Gabriel, his expression making me relax somewhat. There’s a mix of awe and pride that makes me think my reaction wasn’t odd at all. Lauren looks incredible . I mean, she has always been amazing, but that dress was made for her. Her dark hair is done up in a high up-do that brings my attention to her slender neck and beautiful, made-up face.
Her smile fades when she catches me staring, and she gives me a stiff, acknowledging nod before taking her place on the other end of the altar. I try to meet her gaze, but she won’t even look at me. Her attention is now trained on Roshell coming up the aisle.
Yeah, I deserve that.
Ghosting her for two weeks brought a kind of torture I’d never wish on my worst enemy, but I had no choice. Creating distance was the only way to purge myself from what I saw that night and what it made me feel.
The filthy thoughts it made me think .
Blowing out a breath, I tear my eyes away from her and onto Zyon coming down the aisle. There’s no doubt she looks superb in a sparkly ballgown and a veil that seems never ending. Yet, I only spare her a glance. My gaze goes right back to the girl with the bright brown eyes who has been living rent-free in my head for two weeks.
Alas, I fear no distance will be far enough to purge me from the fact that I’m attracted to my best friend’s sister.