Chapter 20 Grady
Chapter twenty
Grady
The man standing at my door is not the one I’m expecting and the last one I want to see.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Hades tries to nudge past me to see who it is, and I pat his nose and shift so he can’t get through my legs. “No. Sit.”
Sebastian grins at me. “Not happy to see me, Grady? I don’t believe that.”
He pushes a palm on the door when I go to slam it in his face. “That’s no way to treat a guest.”
“Let me know when you see one,” I grouse. “Where’s Quinn?” He’s supposed to be the one here, not Sebastian.
“He’s in bed.”
“Why?” If he starts talking about sex, I’m leaving. I don’t even care that it’s my house. Sebastian can have it.
“He woke up with a cold. Will gave him some medicine, and Peyton bullied him back into bed, so he sent me instead.”
“Because he thought you were a good substitute?” I ask sarcastically. I’d rather postpone. I’d rather go wearing a brown paper bag. Lake would marry me no matter what I’m wearing. We should have just done something with a single witness. Over and done with, no fuss. “Why couldn’t he send Jericho?”
“Jericho isn’t much of a suit aficionado.”
“You’re a snob,” I say flatly. Hades drops to the floor and curls his head over my foot, sneaking in a look that way. He’s not trying to shove anymore, so I let him stay there.
“Guilty as charged. That’s who you want helping you find the right outfit for your wedding.”
“I can wait for Quinn.”
He puts a hand in his pocket and cocks his hip like the arrogant fucker that he is.
“The store you have your fitting at doesn’t have an opening for another four months.
They only fit you in because I called in a favour.
” He winks at me, smoothing a hand down his front. “I spend a lot of money there.”
I didn’t need to know that. “I can go somewhere else.”
“You don’t want to, trust me.”
My face better convey how much disdain I have for him. It either doesn’t, or he doesn’t care, because he pats my shoulder. “Cheer up, big guy, it’s gonna be great. Are we taking your car or mine?”
For fuck’s sake. Why would Quinn do this to me? He could have gotten sick another weekend. Waited a week. Done it last week. I don’t care, just not this week.
“Mine.” Then I can just abandon him if he pisses me off too much.
He whistles an extremely annoying tune as he follows me to the car and starts fiddling with the radio like he owns the place.
“Are you listening to jazz?” he asks incredulously as if I can’t possibly appreciate that kind of music.
“Can I help you with something?” Irritation prickles my tone. “Either leave it or turn it off. I don’t want to listen to your music.”
“You don’t know what my music is.”
“I don’t need to.” This is going to be a long-ass drive.
He ends up leaving my jazz on, thankfully. He probably listens to something horrendous, like country music.
“What colour suit are you thinking?” Sebastian asks after twenty blissful minutes of silence. Our destination is roughly twenty more minutes away. So close, so far away.
“Black.” Is everyone suddenly driving slower?
“Black,” he repeats.
“You got a problem with that?”
“Sure, you could go with black, like they wear at funerals.”
“People wear black to weddings. Grooms wear black all the time.”
“Black won’t complement you.”
“Suits don’t talk at all, actually.” Why does he have to be so annoying?
“You’d be better off with a beige or a darker blue. Navy or sapphire.”
That’s four too many options. “I like black.”
“We can look at options when we get there.”
Great.
He’s at least silent the rest of the ride there. It’s a small mercy since I bet he’s gonna start talking again when we get in there.
The place he’s booked—I’d rather keep thinking Quinn was the one who booked it—is too fancy for my tastes.
Very upscale boutique, with price tags way out of my budget.
They better have a sales rack, or we’re going somewhere else.
I don’t care how much the suit costs as long as it looks nice, and it fits well.
Sebastian knows the man inside by name because of course he does. Emil. Even his name sounds too fancy. He looks me up and down like a piece of meat, and I itch to pull out my keys and get the fuck out of here.
“Wedding. We love weddings,” he says with what looks disgustingly like a genuine smile. He’s only happy because weddings are like dollar signs for them.
“I just need a regular black suit. And a fitting.” That’s why I’m in a place like this. To make sure it fits properly. Not to get anything ridiculously fancy.
They both look at me like I said I wanted to burn the place down. “What?”
Sebastian pinches the bridge of his nose. “A regular black suit is for going to work, not for your wedding. Come over here, sit on this couch, Emil will bring you a coffee, and we’ll go through our options.”
“Coffee?” They’re going to serve me coffee? I bet it tastes good. This place screams “snob coffee.” I can enjoy a good coffee, especially if I’m not paying for it.
The couch is too soft, and I sink in a little, but the coffee is hot and tastes like heaven. I guess this won’t be all bad.
Until they start bringing out suits. How are there so many kinds? And colours. It’s overwhelming. “That one.” I pick one at random. It’s a black two-piece with a white shirt. The red pocket square is a little strange, but maybe they’ll be satisfied with the splash of colour and let me leave.
Quinn would have let me leave already.
Sebastian raises his eyebrow, seeing right through me. He hangs the suit on the “no” rack. The fact we need yes, no and maybe racks is insane. This doesn’t need to be so complicated. Find something that looks nice, and fits, and shopping over. One, two, done.
“Do you do everything this slowly?” I mutter disdainfully. My mug is empty now too. Disappointment all around.
“Not everything,” he says with a smirk that is way too salacious.
“Funny. Why was that suit a no? I said yes.”
“You were wrong.”
“Can I be wrong?” I ask grumpily. “It’s my wedding and my suit.”
“I’m not letting you wear the wrong suit to your own wedding,” Sebastian says. I hate Quinn so much right now.
“How gracious of you.” Someone come and save me from this bullshit. “Why was it even an option if I wasn’t allowed to pick it?” That’s fucking stupid.
Sebastian ignores that, turning away from me to check another suit from the “maybe” list. I didn’t say maybe to any of them. I didn’t say no to any of them either. I just want to fucking pick one, get fitted, and leave. He’s doing this to torture me, I just know it.
“Try this one on.”
He pulls out a white three-piece suit with a light-blue shirt and matching pocket square. “No.”
“No?” Sebastian faces it towards himself. “What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m not wearing white.”
He shrugs and puts it back, surprising me with his agreement. Then he picks one I know he grabbed just to fuck with me. “What in the nine hells is that?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I want to buy it just so I can burn it.”
“Is it the colour? Because there’s black, too, it’s not just white.”
The black is a pattern on the white. Of flowers. A fucking floral pattern. Over the entire suit. It’s making my eyes hurt just looking at it. “No one has ever worn that on their wedding. Ever.” Why is it even in here?
“It’s actually quite a popular piece,” Emil says, popping out of nowhere like a goddamn genie. He caresses the arm of the suit. “It goes beautifully with a white gown or either a black suit or a white one. So versatile.”
It’s so shit. “No.”
Emil takes the suit from Sebastian, stares adoringly at it, and gives a little sigh before placing it on the no rack. “You’ll know when you find the right one, trust me.”
“I already—”
“What about this one?” Sebastian interrupts. “All black is stylish. Suits your”—he waves at all of me—“but still formal enough to be acceptable for a wedding.”
Great. “Sure. Yes. Let’s get that one.”
He puts it on the maybe rack, and I’m seriously about to pull my fucking hair out. What the fuck is actually happening right now? Is Lake going through this too? No, because Felix and Zachary actually like him. My partner hung me out to dry.
“You know,” Emil muses, tapping his bottom lip. “You have beautiful eyes.”
“Excuse me?”
He waves me off. “The dark-olive colour. It’s unique, stunning. And then the rest of all your”—he waves at me like Sebastian did barely two minutes ago—“means you need something that really makes you pop.”
I don’t want to pop.
“I think I have the perfect thing. Wait here, I’ll be right back.”
While we wait, Sebastian picks up a velvet red suit, and I interrupt him before he can say a word. “I will burn you with it,” I promise. “And I will enjoy every second of it.”
“Velvet is still in.”
“I would not be caught dead in that. But keep pushing, and I’ll make sure you are.”
Sebastian waggles his eyebrows at me and puts it on the no rack. At least he’s smart enough to know that it’s better for his health that way. If he’d gone anywhere near the maybe with it, I’d have committed murder in this place. Getting blood on everything in here can only be an improvement.
I wish they’d put some vodka in my coffee.
Emil comes back in with a navy-blue three-piece suit that doesn’t seem all that different from the others except for the colour.
Sebastian whistles, taking it from him. “This is nice,” he tells me. “Check out this silk brocade on the vest. It matches the lapels and the tie; we love a good match.”
Do we? “Are those diamonds?” I ask sceptically. The tie clip holding the tie in place is the same navy blue as the rest of the suit, with three small vertical white jewels. They better be fake.
“Lovely touch, aren’t they?” Emil says. “It really brings out the rest of the suit. It’ll make your eyes pop.”
Why is he so obsessed with popping? I’m putting him on a watch list.
“The white against the blue is striking,” he continues. “Tailored right, you’ll look like a million dollars.”
That better be without spending a million dollars. I don’t have that kind of savings, and I’d rather keep it for the honeymoon.
“It’s perfect. What do you think?” Sebastian asks as if my opinion has mattered at all the entire time we’ve been here.
“Does it matter?”
“I won’t let you make bad decisions. That doesn’t mean you don’t have the final say.”
One of those is not like the other, but okay. The suit is fancy, though I don’t understand the fuss they’re making about it. “I like it.” That better be good enough to get me out of here. “What’s the price tag?” Why has no one even mentioned prices since we got here?
“Oh, it’s already paid for,” Emil says, beaming. “Alright, so the dressing room is back here. I’ll need you to strip down to your underwear, and then I can measure you.”
“You’re not paying for this,” I tell Sebastian flatly. There’s no fucking way.
“It’s a wedding present from all of us,” Sebastian says, not even bothering to look at me as he moves all the suits back to one rack. “It was that or a blow-up sex doll. We’ll even get one that moves and has hair. Your choice.”
“I hate you.”
“Love and hate are such a fine line.”
“They’re not.”
“Emil’s a busy man; you better get undressed.”
Jaw tight, I stalk out of the room, muttering obscenities under my breath. This better not take long; we’ve already been here way longer than I wanted to be. Quinn better be half dead to justify leaving me here with Sebastian fucking Devlin.
It takes just under an hour, which is an hour too long, but finally we’re done, and I can get the hell out of here. I’m dropping Sebastian off at the nearest bus stop and going home without him.
Sebastian slaps me on the shoulder. “I could use a beer. You want to get a beer?”
I could use a whole lot more than that. “I don’t want beer; I want top shelf. And you’re buying.”
Sebastian grins wickedly. “I like the way you think.”
I hate this entire day.