9. It Seemed Like A Good Idea at The Time
IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME
Mark
The sound of my alarm is very soft today. Almost so soft that I can’t hear it.
Wait.
Prying my eyes open, the first thing I see is Blackbeard on the coffee table. He’s staring at me with judgment in his one eye.
Uh-oh.
I lift my head off the arm of the sofa. A shooting pain runs from my aching neck to my shoulder. I spent the whole night on my couch? What the hell?
As I swing my body into a vertical position, my empty stomach gives a sickening lurch. Oh, boy. I’m not much of a drinker. Usually. I only drink when I’m out with friends.
But Brett and I were playing chess at the bar, and instead of switching to beer, I turned to rum and tonics.
Wait. Scotch too. I switched to single-malt.
A lot of single-malt.
Shit. I’d better find some aspirin. And I’d better shut off my alarm, which is still trilling in the bedroom.
I grab my glasses from the table and put them on, then stand up slowly. Something clatters to the floor. It’s my phone.
Huh.
I bend carefully to retrieve it, because everything hurts and I want to die. The phone wakes up and glows brightly right in my eyes. Ouch. Everything is ouch.
Lifting my thumb to shutter the phone, I catch a glimpse of the text string on the screen.
They’re all in shouty caps.
Lots of them.
A long tirade authored by me.
To Hannah!
Oh. Shit.
The memory of my intention comes flooding back.
And everything that seemed like a good idea late last night has turned out to be a horrible idea in the light of day.
I only wanted to warn her. I just wanted to dispense some brotherly advice.
But drunk brothers aren’t nearly as smart as they think they are.
Frantically, I scroll up through my rantings.
And it’s bad.
Like, awful advice. Delivered thoughtlessly.
This is . . .
Wow. I lost it last night. I owe Hannah a huge apology.
But when I finally reach the top of my drunken rant, it gets even worse. This is a whole new level of mortification. Because Hannah wasn’t the only one I’d texted. I hit reply to Hannah’s last message—in the group chat where Asher invited me to the engagement party. Kill me now.
I groan so loudly that Blackbeard leaps off the coffee table with a wake-the-dead meow.
“Yeah,” I say, my voice cracking with disuse. “This is so bad.”
He looks up at me and mewls again. But not in sympathy. He only wants his breakfast.
So I stagger toward the kitchen, knowing that Blackbeard will be the only one happy to see me today.
I am officially the worst brother ever. And? The cherry on top of this shit sundae? I still have to go to that party. But I’ll do it. For Hannah.
Even though the last thing in the whole world I want to do is see my sister, her groom, and his superhot best friend tonight.
Dying to know what the drunk texts said? How the hell Mark handles the party? And what happens next with these two hot men? Find out in the full-length novel The Best Men . TURN THE PAGE…