26. Ian
26
IAN
Playing the womanizing jock helps ease the pain in my chest the same way slipping into a pair of comfy sweats always relaxes me. Or it could be the alcohol lessening the sting of feeling the connection I trusted slip through my hands like an interception that should have been a perfect pass.
Everybody wants to buy The Playmaker a drink, and I want to numb everything inside me. Win-win.
I can hold my liquor fine, but by the time I exit the bar and head toward the restaurant after two texts from Sadie, I’m feeling fuzzy but no less pissed both at her and myself.
“Playmaker,” Bradley calls as I walk into the private dining room of the steakhouse where the rehearsal dinner is being held. “How you doin’?”
“Never better, never better. You ready to be shackled to the ol’ ball and chain tomorrow?”
Bradley laughs and gives me an awkward thumbs-up while Sadie’s head whips around to stare at me.
“Better you than me.” I chuck one of the single groomsmen on the shoulder. “Am I right, Rosin?”
“Hell, yeah,” he agrees.
At that moment, a line of waitstaff enters the room, plates in hand, distributing them to the guests. I saunter over to Sadie, who’s sitting at a table with two older couples.
“Ian.” She grabs my arm in a vise grip. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“I bet you are, but there were some important things I needed to take care of first.”
One of the bridesmaids sitting at the table next to ours snorts. “Important like multiple rounds of shotskis at the bar two doors down.”
The platinum-blonde is wearing a tight dress with a low-cut neckline. She leans forward to give me a better view of her ample cleavage. I manage a smile, but God help me, I need to escape. Unfortunately, playing the part of a dick doesn’t come naturally to me anymore.
I wink and point a finger at the bridesmaid. “Right on the money, baby.”
Sadie yanks on my arm and I fold myself into the chair next to her. She smells delicious and looks beautiful with her hair falling in waves over her shoulders, which are bare thanks to the strapless dress softly draping over her curves. A bead of sweat drips between my shoulder blades as I remind my body that we are moving on. My body gives me the middle finger in return.
“You remember Bradley’s parents, Barry and Connie, from last night, and I’m not sure if you met his aunt and uncle. They arrived earlier this afternoon.”
The two couples stare at me. My smile widens. “Barry and I golfed together earlier. You gave yourself an extra stroke on the fourth hole, Bar. Cheaters never prosper and all that.”
The uncle chuckles. Sadie gasps as Barry turns beet red. “You must be mistaken. I wouldn’t cheat.”
“Sure, sure. Let’s go with that.”
Sadie turns to look me straight in the eye. “What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing, sweetheart. Just here for the lolz.”
My chest tightens at the look of confusion and hurt she gives me. I need to rein it in and stop acting like a complete jackass. She kept up her end of the bargain with Riva, and no matter how I feel after overhearing her conversation, I owe Sadie. I’m not going to go back on the promise I made, even if it kills me.
“White or red?” A waitress appears at my side and leans in closer than necessary, her breast grazing my arm.
“I’ll stick with water for now.” Time to switch to a brooding grump versus an outright dick.
Sadie starts talking a mile a minute, as if she can compensate for my sullen attitude. I have a difficult time not inserting myself into the conversation when it’s obvious that Bradley’s parents are rude, arrogant asswipes who think far too highly of themselves and have no intention of giving Piper or Sadie the respect they deserve.
We’ve almost made it through the meal when there’s a shriek of horror from the other side of the room. I realize it’s coming from the table where Piper and Bradley are seated.
“Is there shrimp in the pasta sauce?” Piper shouts. Sadie is out of her chair in a second.
I glance over to see Bradley’s mom and dad sharing an eye roll, and then quickly follow Sadie.
“You’re going to be okay, Pip. Where’s the EpiPen?”
Piper glances around then back to Sadie, her eyes panicked. “Damn it. I left my purse on a bench behind the hotel.”
She looks horrible. Her cheeks are red and blotchy, lips and eyes swollen. Bradley lets out an exasperated sigh. “You need to be more responsible, Piper.”
“Shut up, Brad,” Sadie commands. When he opens his trap to snap back at her, I shift closer and my glare shuts him up. Not as unequivocally as a sharp right, but it’s a start.
“I’ll get it,” I offer. “What does it look like?”
“White with crystal beads,” Piper says, her words slurred like maybe her tongue is swelling. That can’t be good. “It’s on a bench near the wedding arbor.”
Sadie reaches for my hand. “She’s going to be okay. Her reaction to the allergy isn’t anaphylactic, it just looks bad. But please hurry.”
“I’ll sprint both ways.” I might be pissed, but this isn’t the time to be petty.
I race back to the hotel, which is less than a quarter mile away, and give a silent prayer of thanks that the purse is still sitting on a bench in the fading light.
One of the bridesmaids, not the blonde, stands just inside the restaurant’s entrance when I get back. “They’re in the women’s restroom.” She points toward a hall visible past the main dining room.
I haul ass through the steakhouse, and burst into the bathroom. Sadie grabs the purse from my hand as Piper murmurs, “Thank you,” her words slightly garbled.
Bradley and his mother are standing near the bank of sinks, looking equally horrified.
Piper pulls up her dress and Sadie stabs the EpiPen into the skin of her upper thigh, then pulls her sister into a tight hug, reassuring her, “You’re going to be okay.”
Bradley sniffs. And just when I thought the guy couldn’t be any more of a jackass, he shifts into full power-tool mode. “She was going to be okay anyway. The swelling would have gone down on its own or with some Benadryl.”
Sadie rounds on him. “Look at her, Brad.”
“Bradley,” his mom corrects.
“Whatever,” Sadie mutters. “We need to talk to whoever scheduled this dinner and oversaw the menu. Obviously, you told them about her shellfish allergy.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it an allergy,” Bradley says, and I reach for Sadie just in case she’s tempted to go after him. He’s not worth it.
“That’s exactly what it is.”
“I always thought of it as more a personal preference,” the mother of the groom says, averting her gaze from Piper.
While Sadie now seems rooted in place, I keep hold of her just in case. And because I don’t want to let go.
Although Bradley and his mom deserve a good swift kick or a throat punch—whatever fits the bill.
“There’s a reason I don’t eat at your house,” Piper says. Her eyes and lips are looking a tiny bit less puffy, like the EpiPen is already starting to do its thing. “You use a base of fish sauce for every dish.”
“It gives the recipes a deeper flavor profile. Umami is all the rage on cooking shows.” Connie holds up her hands. “I always thought it was a bit rude that you wouldn’t even have a bite.”
“I can’t eat shellfish.” Piper points to her face. “This is what happens.”
Sadie jabs a finger at Bradley. “Did you not alert the chef to Piper’s allergy?”
“Bradley told his mom,” Piper says to Sadie. “This isn’t his fault.”
But Sadie focuses on Connie Carlson, whose lips looked tighter than a sealed envelope. “Did you tell the restaurant no shellfish?”
Connie sighs and glances at her son. “We know Piper doesn’t like shrimp.”
“Our paella includes shrimp.” A man in a white chef’s coat has appeared in the bathroom’s doorway. “I apologize for not leaving it out, but we weren’t alerted to any allergies and…” He offers Piper an apologetic shake of his head. “The manager specifically asked.”
“What the actual fuck is wrong with the two of you?” Sadie asks through gritted teeth.
I might curse like a sailor, but Sadie dropping an F-bomb is serious business.
“Is there anything I can get you?” the chef asks.
“A sharp butcher knife,” Sadie answers, taking a step toward B-Rad and his mom. This time, I let her have at it.
The chef takes a step back, letting the door swing shut as Piper reaches out and grabs Sadie’s arm. “This isn’t Bradley’s fault,” she insists
Connie crosses her arms over her chest. “For the record, he and I selected the menu together.”
“Thanks, Mom.” Bradley loosens his tie and looks up at the ceiling like he’s hoping for a spaceship to crack open the roof and beam him out of this shit show of his own making. “A lot was going on, and paella is the chef’s most popular side dish. I figured you could eat around the shrimp.”
“That isn’t how a food allergy works.” Piper straightens her shoulders. “You’re a doctor. You know that. And this is our weekend—our wedding. I’m about to become your wife. I need to know you have my back. The way Sadie has my back.”
Bradley massages two fingers against his forehead like this whole thing is giving him a headache. Poor guy. “Oh, right. Saint Sadie. Your favorite protector. You don’t need to blow this out of proportion, Pip. You have the EpiPen. Who knows if it even was the shellfish. Maybe there was something else that triggered this reaction. You could have been stung by a bee.”
“I’m not allergic to bees.” Piper’s tone displays way more patience than her douche fiancé deserves. “And I wasn't stung.”
“Pretty sure it was the shellfish, Brad-ski,” I tell him. “I’m going to remind you again that talking shit on Sadie won’t end well for you. Not while I’m around.”
Which won’t be for long, but I don’t mention that. I hate being angry with Sadie, especially when my instinct is to take her into my arms and find a way to make this better. Having Bradley and his mom step into the villain role gives me an excuse to focus my temper on someone else.
Brad-ski moves his hands up and down in front of Sadie and her sister like he’s settling a couple of naughty toddlers. “You seem okay now. Let’s finish the meal without fuss, then belly up to the bar. The Playmaker has a head start on all of us, so we’ve got some catching up to do.”
“I want to go back to the hotel,” Piper says.
“You’re going to take her to the hospital for a follow-up, right?” Sadie asks Bradley.
“She’s fine. And I’m sure you can handle it, sis ,” Bradley counters. “This is your big chance to swoop in and rescue somebody. You love that.”
Ignoring the fact that Brad’s a complete dick, he’s not entirely wrong. Did Sadie swoop in and rescue me? In a lot of ways, yes, but none that I care to admit at the moment.
“Stop talking shit on my sister,” Piper snaps. This is the first time I’ve heard her—or anyone—defend Sadie.
“It’s fine,” Sadie mutters, although it’s not fine at all.
“Yes, it’s fine,” the douche canoe in a suit mimics. “Have your little Maxi Pad sister reunion, and I’ll entertain our guests.” Bradley throws up his hands as he stalks out of the bathroom.
I cringe, because there are assholes, and then there’s Bradley Carlson.
“I’m sorry you don’t like shrimp,” his mother says before following him out.
Piper looks at herself in the mirror, then half-laughs and half-sobs. “This isn’t the greatest start to a marriage, is it?” she asks no one in particular.
I take a step toward the door. “I’m going to head out.”
“Please stay,” Piper whispers as she turns to face us both. “I want to thank you.”
Sadie shoots me a wary glance. Maybe she can sense that my shitty mood has returned in full force.
“Thank you for getting the EpiPen, Ian.” Piper takes a deep breath. “More importantly, thank you for being the kind of guy my sister deserves in her life.”
“Piper, you don’t have to—” Sadie begins.
“Let me say this. You always put other people first. Seeing you with someone who puts you at the top is nice. You guys give me hope for love, although I’m not sure I’ll find it with my fiancé. But hey, I have eighteen hours to decide.” The laugh that spills from her mouth sounds slightly hysterical, but I can’t fault her at this point.
“You’ll be okay,” Sadie murmurs.
Piper swallows hard. “He was right about one thing. Mom did make us believe that men are horrible. Maybe that’s why I picked Bradley in the first place. He’s safe and familiar. Yeah, I love him. I’ve known him all my life. I thought I could fall in love with him. I thought safety would protect me from being hurt. It’s practical on paper.” Piper shrugs and then inclines her head toward us.
“Just like on paper the two of you don’t exactly match. In real life, what you have is so special. It’s what I want for myself and?—”
“Stop.” I hold up a hand, unable to listen to one more word about how perfect Sadie and I are. Not when I’ve been perfectly played. “Your sister and I aren’t special. We’re not even a couple.”
“Ian, what are you doing?” Sadie’s brown eyes widen in obvious horror.
I can’t stop the words that trip and fall in their need to get out of my mouth. “Come on, Sadie. I know why you picked me. Let’s face it, I only agreed because it benefited my daughter. We’re both getting something we wanted, but I’m sick of pretending.”
Piper’s dark brows scrunch into a confused line. “What does that mean?”
“This whole thing—the emotional bond you think you see.” I flap my fingers between Sadie and me. “It’s fake. Your sister’s friends put her up to it. I’m her fake boyfriend for this weekend and…well…”
“Ian.” Sadie’s voice is dull, empty. It makes me want to take her in my arms, but I’m fresh out of comfort to give.
I make a show of letting my gaze rake down her body. There’s that damn blush again, and it infuriates me, mostly because my heart still lurches in response.
“I didn’t know quite how far you were going to take using me, but I guess I can’t blame you.”
Before Sadie or her sister can respond, a voice behind me asks, “Oh my God, is Sadie paying you to date her?”
All three of us turn to see Amanda Sinton standing in the bathroom’s open doorway. If things weren’t a mess before, they definitely are now.