Raced

Becks’s voice startles me. I glance down to my phone where Ry’s last text is on the screen still—I’ll be the one in white—to check the time and realize shit’s about to get real.

“Hold your horses, Daniels.” I lift my chin in acknowledgement to him through my reflection as I bring the tumbler of aged Macallan he bought for the occasion to my lips. “I’m just zipping up now.”

“Don’t pinch your dick. You just might need that tonight since she’s been holding out on you.” He chuckles as he pours himself a glass.

“No shit.” I tuck my shirt in, my mind wandering to just what’s going to be beneath her dress besides my voodoo pussy. Because fuck if it’s not torture to sleep beside the woman you want more than the air you breathe when she won’t let you touch her. “A month is a long fucking time, dude.” I groan the words out, my dick already stirring for the action it’s been missing.

He throws his head back and laughs at me. “For you that’s like a lifetime.”

“Fuck off.” He just raises his eyebrows at me, then I can’t help but laugh. “It’s been brutal.”

“Poor baby. You’ll get no sympathy from me. Welcome to how the other half lives, where snapping your fingers doesn’t result in any woman you want dropping to her knees.”

I laugh. “Not anymore, brother. Not anymore.” I’m on the please remain standing program now. I glance up from where I’m trying to put my checkered flag cuff links through the holes to meet his eyes.

“You really ready to do this?” He quirks his eyebrows up at me, like he’s waiting for the about face. For me to freak the hell out because I’m about to get hitched.

He’s fucking crazy if he thinks I’m walking away from Rylee. Not now. Not ever. That checkered flag’s only ever going to wave for me.

“I should be nervous right? Pacing and shit. But I’m not. Fucking scary but true … it’s Rylee,” I tell him with a shrug as if that it explains it all. The thought unnerving even to me.

But fuck if I’ve been able to make sense of the truths she’s allowed me to face, the man she’s given me the room to become.

“It is indeed Rylee, and shit, man, I don’t know what she sees in you,” he teases, “but, she looks incredible.”

What? “You’ve seen her?” So not fucking fair. So many things I want to ask him about her, but I keep my balls and retain my dignity. I’ll see for myself soon enough if she’s nervous or smiling or crying.

Being beautiful is a given.

“Had to talk to her, let her understand the big ass mistake she’s about to make … give her a chance to ride off in the sunset with the more handsome of the two of us.”

I snort out a laugh as I walk toward him. “Yep. We will be doing that in about six hours. Thanks for showing her the lesser so she knows she’s getting the more.”

“Cocky as fuck and you still end up with the girl.”

“Always.” I sit down on the edge of the chair across from him and flash him an arrogant-ass a grin. And fuck if I know where it comes from but all of a sudden there are so many things I need to say to him and not enough words to say them with. We may fuck with each other, ride each other’s asses when we can’t see what’s right in front of us, but I know the shove he gave me knocking my dick in the dirt is part of the reason I got my shit together. Is why I’m sitting here right now, about to marry the girl I sure as shit don’t deserve.

Well him and the defiant as fuck woman who grabbed me by the balls and said non-negotiable.

“Hey, Becks?”

“What do you need?”

And that right there gets me. His unwavering friendship.

I look down for a moment and take a sip of the Macallan. “That’s good shit. Thanks,” I say, stalling.

“A rarity for a one-of-a-kind type of day.”

Years of friendship come down to right now. Two young kids, now men, and the one that was fucked-up just might finally have it together. How the hell do I tell him that? Thanks for putting up with my bullshit and being my punching bag and wingman all at once?

“Thanks, man. For everything.” It’s all I’ve got, but I think he knows what I’m saying because he meets my eyes for a moment, a slight smirk on his face, and nods his head in acknowledgement.

“Always.” He sips his drink and then leans forward and taps it against mine. “And just remember to always end a fight with these two words: yes dear. Biting your tongue at the end of a fight will up the ante of her using hers later to make-up.”

I laugh with him and his fucked-up logic that makes perfect sense before tossing back the rest of my drink.

“You ready, Son?” My dad’s voice from the door interrupts us.

I sigh and fuck if I can’t stop the smile that’s on my face. “Yep, just putting my tie on,” I say, rising to get it. I meet my dad’s eyes and we had our father-son moment earlier but I still can’t get over that look he gives me.

The pride mixed with attaboy. The look the fucked-up little boy I was would have killed to have as much as something to eat and yet here I am, twenty something years later, and it means more now than I ever thought it could.

Sweet Jesus. When people say weddings make you sappy, they weren’t fucking kidding. But fuck anyone who tells me I don’t deserve this. I’ve been to Hell and back, survived the darkest shit imaginable and I’m standing here with my old man and my best friend about to marry the woman who took the pieces the poison hadn’t eaten through and made me whole again.