Page 2 of Last Round

I ignore him on my way to the fridge, pull out the carton with only a half dozen eggs left, and call out to him over my shoulder. “Nah, I’m good.”

“Fine.” He opens the cupboard, grabs a pan, and sets it on the stove. “What are you doing?” he asks, observing as I crack each shell and empty the contents into a large cup.

“Making a shake.”

“With what? You have nothing but eggs and beer.”

“Exactly.” I reach back into the fridge, grab a bottle of Guinness, and pop the top off on the counter before pouring it into the container. Then I shoot him a toothy grin and chug the concoction. On tap, it’s Murphy’s all day. But at home, I have to lower my standards.

Unless I install a tap?I file that away for another day.

Sean throws his arms up, shaking his head as he stomps to the front door. “I’ll die of fucking shock if you make it to forty. Let’s go.”

I slam the empty glass down and wipe the remnants of my meal from my lips. I don’t know what he’s bitching about. He acts like he’s never drank eggs for breakfast before.

After watchingRockyfor the first time, Sean and I were blown away. So, at just five years old, we decided on becoming the “biggest and baddest” fighters ever to hit the ring. However, seeing as we were nothing more than a pair of scrawny little runts at the time, we knew we needed to bulk up. We rushed to the kitchen and, like Stallone, filled each of our cups with as many eggs as we could get our hands on. Ma was so fucking pissed. Let’s just say we weren’t proficient when it came to cracking them and drank probably more shell than yolk. The counter was covered in residue. Not to mention, she’d just bought the dozen, and this was back when we were beyond broke.

“Okay, so remember to highlight the facilities. Drive home the point that we have two former belt holders training now,” Sean continues, as I meet him at the threshold.

“Yeah, yeah,” I dismiss him as I lock up.

“Come on.” Sean sighs. “I need you to take this seriously.”

“I am. What’s going on?” I know this man better than I know myself. And something’s definitely up.

His shoulders drop as he lets out a deep exhale. “Jessica—”

“Enough said.” The woman is a grade-A bitch. But my best friend already knows this. I’ve publicized my feelings about their relationship on several occasions. But the lovesick fool is deaf and blind to reason when it comes to that particular pair of tits.

“I proposed.”

“No…” Shit, this is worse than I thought. “What’d she say?”

“What do you think?” He crosses his arms and glares at me as though the answer is obvious.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” I groan, combing my fingers through my still-damp hair.

“We can’t be bachelors forever, Kill. Eventually, it’s time to settle down… grow up.”

“I’m not opposed to you getting married.” While I don’t understand the urge to limit your options for the foreseeable future, I’m not one of those guys who’s looking to talk his buddies off the marital ledge. “Just your choice in bride.”

“I love Jess,” he repeats that godforsaken mantra with so much conviction I’m not sure who he’s trying to convince, me or himself.

“Sean—”

“Look, Kill, I know Jess isn’t your favorite person.” He cuts me off, his green eyes wide as they contrast with the slight hint of auburn in his hair. And I can’t help but think how he looks like the fucking cat fromShrek.

How the fuck can I say no to that? I can’t. Every armor has a weakness. Apparently big-eyed pussycats are mine. If I’m going to be whipped by any form of a pussy, it would be nice if he at least had one. Wait, does this make me dick whipped?

Fuck, my man card is in serious jeopardy.

“No, she isn’t,” I confirm, and Sean’s eye twitches as he stands there staring at me. There is no talking him out of this. The bastard is on a crash course for disaster and there ain’t shit I can do about it. I guess, sometimes, you just gotta let them burn. It’s the only way they can learn not to touch the damn hot stove in the future. “But it appears she’s yours,” I concede. Because despite his horrific taste in women, he’s my best friend. Which means I need to suck it up and pray the divorce is quick and clean like a left hook to the jaw in the first round.

A goofy smile spreads across his face. “Does that mean you’ll be my best man?”

“As if I’d let you pick anyone else.” I pat him on the shoulder and approach the pole in the middle of the loft. “And your bachelor party—whew, that shit’s gonna be insane.”

Sean rolls his eyes. “Can we take the stairs like normal people?”

---