Page 3 of Three Pucking Wedding Dates

“I don’t remember asking,” I snap back.

“Look, all that matters,” Dad steps in, “is that she’ll be coming. Oakley can bring whoever she’d like.”

“Fine,” Georgia finally concedes, her eyes narrowing as she studies me. “I look forward to meeting these mystery men.”

“Trust me, they’re much better than any man I’ve ever dated before,” I retort, my words a personal dig against Dan. Then I spin on my heel and storm out of the house, slamming the door behind me.

As I stride down the front steps, my heart races with a blend of satisfaction and uncertainty. What have I just gotten myself into? Now I have to find three wedding dates, for a wedding that’s only six weeks away.

My eyes scan the quiet suburban street, taking in the neatly trimmed lawns and identical houses that seem to mock me with their predictability. “Three dates, Oakley? Really?” I mutter to myself, rolling my eyes at my own recklessness. “What were you thinking?”

But as much as I fear the consequences of my impulsive decision, there’s also a part of me that relishes the shock and disbelief on their faces. Maybe, just maybe, this bold move will be the first step in proving to myself—and everyone else—that I’m not the wounded, desperate girl they think I am.

Thankfully, I have three best friends I can call who might be able to help.

“Time to text the boys,” I whisper, pulling out my phone and scrolling through my contacts to find the ones I’m looking for.

2

GRAY

S.O.S. I need all three of you guys to be my dates to my evil stepsister’s wedding in six weeks. I know we haven’t seen each other in years, but I need you guys. I understand you’re busy, but if you could even just spare the day, I’d be grateful. Just let me know when you get the chance.

I’ve read her message more times than I’d like to admit. We’ve kept in touch over the years, calling here and there and texting every so often, but she’s right. My brothers and I have been busy.

That won’t stop me from doing whatever it is she needs of me, though. I’ll always be there for Oakley.

I walk around Oakley’s apartment, waiting for her to get back, grateful that the spare key she gave me years ago still works. Her home is the definition of simple, exactly like I remember it. It’s just two bedrooms and one bathroom, and she keeps it exceptionally clean. The furniture is nice but low quality, so she got it from some cheap furniture store. It’s decorated nicely and feels homely though. It reminds me a lot of the house I grew up in.

Maybe that’s what she was going for.

My gaze falls upon the fireplace and the picture frame that sits atop it. I can’t resist the urge to pick it up and study the photograph carefully. We were all so happy then—Oakley, Iris, Theo, Reid, and myself. The five of us, inseparable and full of joy, had no idea how much our lives would change after Oakley’s mother passed away.

“God, we were just kids,” I mutter to myself, smiling at the memory.

Everything was so different then. Sometimes I miss just how simple life used to be.

The door to Oakley’s apartment swings open and she steps inside, her eyes widening in shock as she spots me. She clutches her chest, catching her breath before scowling at me.

“Gray?! What the hell? You scared me half to death!”

“Sorry, Oak,” I chuckle, unable to resist pulling her into a tight hug as I breathe in her familiar scent. I’d missed her more than I realized until I had her in my arms again. “It’s good to see you.”

“Don’t I know it?” she huffs, but I can feel her relax in my arms, her tension dissipating as we stand close together, wrapped up in each other.

Pulling away, I move to her kitchen and start to fill a glass with water. “You know, for someone who loves food as much as you do, you sure don’t have much of it here,” I tease her with a grin, hinting that I looked through her cupboards.

“Ugh, I know,” she groans playfully, wrinkling her nose. “I’ve been so busy lately that I haven’t had time to go grocery shopping. But enough about my empty fridge—why are youhere?” She narrows her eyes suspiciously, an amused glint in her gaze.

“Ah, well,” I say, reaching for my phone and holding it up to show her the text message she sent me. “You needed me, Oakley. And when my best friend needs me, I’m there. No questions asked.”

“Gray,” she murmurs, overwhelmed by emotion. “You dropped everything to come here?”

“Always, Oak,” I assure her. “Now tell me what’s so important about this wedding with your ‘wicked stepsister.’”

Oakley’s eyes darken as she recalls the events that led to her desperate text message. “Dan,” she says, contempt seeping through her words. “He cheated on me with Georgia.”

The words hit me like a slap to the face, and I clench my fists at my sides. The thought of any man hurting Oakley is unbearable, but the fact that it was with her stepsister makes my blood boil. “How could he do something like that to you?” I growl. “I could punch him in the jaw.”

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