Page 12 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

If he did, I will track him down and rip his balls off with my bare hands.

She bursts out laughing. “Kidding. Oh my God, what? I would never do that to Ivy, stop. Learn to take a joke. You are sooo obvious.”

I rub my forehead and sigh. I have a headache. “That’s not funny.”

“I literally just heard that tonight. I’ve never heard that before and someone just told me. Like, what? Have you heard that? Obviously, I wouldnothave worn this if I’d known that. But I thought, like red goes with a barn, right? Rustic?”

She’s making my headache worse. I need to get some water and ply both myself and Ivy with it.

“I’ve never heard that. Keep the bottle,” I tell her.

When I turn, I almost run into Harrison. I rear back.

Being in his presence makes me hot and angry on a good day.

Today is acomplicatedday. Filled with concern for Ivy and yet, relief for her too, because Brad isn’t good enough for her. Hope for me that maybe if I open my fucking mouth in a few weeks when she’s recovered from this debacle, I can convince her to give me a shot.

There’s also irritation that I think Ford might have a crush on her. The way he looks at her…not cool.

And then here is Harrison, grinning at me, and looking muscular and sexy and casually rich.

There’s no fucking way I want to deal with any more of his snarky comments right now.

He opens his mouth—that mouth I can’t seem to forget about—to, I’m sure, say something he thinks is funny and that I’ll hate.

But the DJ’s mic screams with reverb and we both wince and turn. Ivy is wrestling the mic from the DJ.

“That can’t be good,” Harrison says.

I glare at him and just walk away, heading straight to Ivy to conduct an intervention if necessary.

“Welcome to Ivy and Brad’s happily ever after!” she announces with a tipsy cackle. “That didn’t last long, did it? No, seriously, thank you all so much for being here, sacrificing your Saturday just to witness me being dumped by a man child.”

I start walking faster, hoping she’ll spot me in the crowd so I can convey to her that she needs to step away from the mic. Slicing motions across my throat should do it.

But her eyes are darting all around the room, a cocktail glass in her hand. Liquid splashes over the side as she waves it in an attempt at a toast. “Whoops,” she says, lifting her hand and licking the back of it. “Never let good alcohol go to waste.”

I sense Harrison is on my heels. I walk faster.

“We love you, Ivy!” Patrice calls from the back of the room.

“Thank you, babe. At least someone does.” Ivy takes a long swallow of her half-empty glass.

I’m jogging now, my heart hammering in my chest.

“Why is this fucking barn so big?” Harrison asks behind me, echoing my own thoughts.

But I refuse to admit that. “Because it’s a barn,” I snap. “Why is no one else stopping her?”

Her mother is standing to the side, a hand over her mouth, sobbing. Ivy’s father is comforting her mother. The girl I recognize as Ivy’s cousin is draped all over Ford, who is trying to shake her loose.

It’s time to pull the plug on this night.

“You know, I never wanted to get married,” Ivy muses into the mic, swaying on her feet. “I honestly never cared about that. I just wanted to behappy. There were red flags with Brad, you know. That I ignored. Big ones, giant red flags, and yet I ran right toward them like a bull to a…what are those guys called? With the black velvet pants?”

I’m sweating as I reach her and yank the mic out of her hand. “Matador! That’s what they’re called!” I boom into the microphone, way louder than I intend. My fake cheerful voice makes me wince. I turn toward the guests, blocking Ivy from their view. “Wow, okay, this has just been amazing to see how loved Ivy is. Thank you all for being here and supporting her. We’re going to wind things down now, so uh, good night.”

Harrison is now murmuring to Ivy, who is protesting loudly. “I want to stay! I’mfine!”

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