Page 154 of Bloom: Part 2

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, but donotelope while you’re there. Do you hear me, Bloom? I get to walk you down the aisle.”

“I won’t.”

Crowe groaned. “I wish I could believe you, but you do all sorts of crazy shit for that man of yours.”

“There will be no marriage without you, Crowe,” I said.

“That you, Doc?”

I frowned. “I should hope so.”

Crowe’s laugh was such a pleasant thing to hear. Over the past week, he’d been in a pissy mood, and rightly so.

“All right, then. You made a fucking promise. Don’t break it, or I’ll break you in half.”

“For god’s sake, Crowe, if you keep threatening him like this, he won’t want to marry me at all!” Bloom scowled.

“Yeah, yeah, I said what I said. See you soon! You take care of him, Doc, or—”

“You’ll break me in half,” I said in a monotonous voice. “I heard you the first time.”

Crowe’s chuckle rang out before he ended the call. Bloom punched me in the arm. “When are you going to stand up to him and not let him bully you like this?”

“Sweetheart, I’m marrying his little brother. I’ll take all the bullying he dishes out as long as I have you.”

“You’re such a simp.”

“Ah yes, I suppose I am, but you love me.”

“Fuck, yeah, I do.”

“Bloom—” I tumbled him to the bed, and his arms came around me.

“Hmm?”

“Remind me to write our wedding vows.”

“Ah fuck off, Logan. I’m gonna write it the way I can, and you’re gonna love it anyway.”

Yes, I would. He could write the worst vow that was ever written, and I would still love it because it came from him.

My Bloom.

46

BLOOM

The living room was a chaotic mess of laughter, empty bottles, and poorly balanced shot glasses. The game was Jamie’s idea, of course. He had this knack for making everything feel like it was teetering on the edge of scandal, and tonight was no different. Logan’s house had been transformed into party central for my bachelor party, and it didn’t matter how low-key I’d told Jamie to make it; this group had other plans.

I was already a little tipsy, the warm buzz making my head swim pleasantly. Fable leaned forward, grinning. He was more talkative and fun when drunk. He spun the empty wine bottle in the center of the circle we’d formed on the floor. It wobbled, then landed on Max, who let out a groan.

“All right, Max,” Fable said. “Truth or dare?”

Max smirked. He was possibly the only one not drunk because of the medication he was still on. “Dare. Always dare.”

Fable’s eyes glinted with mischief. “I dare you to call Crowe and dirty talk him on speakerphone.”

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