Page 121 of Messing With My Brother's Best Friends

I shut the door abruptly and stepped backwards. Each man had proposed in ways that tugged at my heart, but it was only now I realised what that meant. I had to choose one. Connor was freaked out by the idea that I wouldn’t be protected, provided for if something happened to them. I pointed out we were all in our late twenties, but then he started to recite construction site statistics at me. We were forced to draw the line when he wanted to download some workplace accident photos and show them to me.

“I can’t choose,” I said.

“Huh, so there is a downside to having three hot fiancés.” She put the magazine down. “But you have to. There’s no wedding if you don’t choose. You can have the other two as best men, but—”

“No.”

My fingers went to the ring Connor had given me, rolling it up and down.

“But, you have to. I think the law stinks too—”

“No.” I stepped closer, hands shaking. “No, you don’t get it. Barbie, I can’t.’

“It’ll be in name only. You’ll still live the same way and seeing as they’re all gonna take your name, it won’t matter.” Her nose wrinkled. “I mean, they’ll want your husband’s name as an emergency contact when you enrol your kids at school.”

“No.”

“And as a next-of-kin in case something happens to you in an accident. They’ll ring him and not the others to say you’re in hospital.”

“No, Barbie.” I stepped in closer, crouching down to force her to look at me. “You don’t understand. I literally can’t. I’d rather not get married at all.” I looked down at the ring and started to pull it off. “I didn’t think this through. I can’t marry one of them.”

But right as I was about to shove the ring in my pocket, her hand closed around mine.

“A marriage is a legal thing and a social and/or religious rite. A commitment ceremony is the social thing, without the legal. What’s important to you, Kendall? Being legally tied to one of them having an opportunity to tell the world how you feel about each other?”

My breath came out in a long, shuddering sigh.

“That. I want that.”

“Well, that’s a whole other ball of wax.” She shoved the magazines she had on her lap to the floor and then reached for another lot. “It gives you a whole lot more freedom. The nature of the event, of the ritual, is decided by the people involved. No rules, laws, or government intervention. There’re relationship agreements that can take care of the legal side of things, but if you just want a party to celebrate your relationship, then let's do that.”

“But Connor wants a church wedding, god knows why, because I’ve never seen him go to a service and Van just wants really good catering. Oh and for me to stick it to the others and choose him. Gage was low key about the whole thing, telling me to do what I think is best and I…”

What did I want? I’d dreamed of my wedding day as a girl, like many others, but it was always focussed on the beautiful dress and all my family clustered around as witnesses, not the colour of bridesmaid dresses and which of my boyfriends I could legally marry. I didn’t care about the legality of things. If we somehow fell out of love, we’d walk away free, but in some ways, I liked that better.

That we’d be forced to choose each other every day.

Barbie nodded slowly, still a little misty eyed.

“I figured you might say something like that.” She flicked a finger through a ton of multi-coloured sticky notes she’d used to annotate a bunch of the magazines. “Then I think you need to play one more prank.”

“On who?” I asked.

“Your guys.”

Chapter 61

Months later

Van

“So who is my sister marrying today?”

Finn looked decidedly seedy. We’d had the most half-hearted bachelor’s party known to man, no strippers, little entertainment. Bruce, our dads and some of the guys from work had been relieved to be going to watch a footy game at the stadium and then come back to our place for a couple drinks.

In Finn’s case, more than a couple.

He’d barely touched a drop, being on his best behaviour now that Cheryl and the kids had moved back home, but his sister’s wedding? That was a legitimate excuse for getting drunk and passing out in our lounge room apparently.

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