Page 3 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

“I’m not telling Ivy,” Harrison says, taking a big step back toward the door. “That’s Brad’s job.”

I scowl at him. “No shit. But Brad isn’t here because he’s clearly a cowardly cocksucking chickenshit. So if I’m doing it, you’re doing it.” Then I add, “Please.”

I met Harrison playing at the park the summerbeforekindergarten, so he’s been my friend longer than Brad has. He was also my college roommate and is now my business partner. We’re Harrison Ford together, for fuck’s sake. We’ve been dealing with those jokes—and a reluctant but undeniable love for Indiana Jones (butnotStar Wars)—for twenty-six years together. We’re basically inseparable.

Ifhedumped a woman minutes before walking down the aisle, I would…

No. Harrison would never do that. If he had doubts, he would have pulled the plug before the save the date cards went out. Hell, he never would have proposed unless he was absolutely one hundred percent sure, because he doesn’t fall in love easily. He’s still very much playing the field, not settling down and committing to one person.

He’d never bail on someone last minute like this. He’s a good guy. Though some might characterize him as a playboy, he’dnever hurt a woman or a man if he committed to walking down the aisle with them.

“I’m not good at this sort of thing,” Harrison says, his face stricken. He looks like he wants to dive under the rolling rack our tuxes had been hung on. “You know that.”

He’s actually great with people, charming and sociable. But, I have to admit, he’s not the best with bad news. He likes happy occasions, parties, celebrations, and wining and dining—be it clients, employees, or dates. He absolutely doesn’t want to dothis.

Fuck, neither do I. The thought of seeing Ivy’s face crumple when she realizes she’s been stood up ten minutes before her wedding makes my gut clench miserably.

My shoulders slump. “Don’t make me do this alone. Not with Ivy.”

Harrison knows I have a thing for our friend’s fiancee. I’ve kept it under wraps with Brad and Ivy, for obvious reasons. But Harrison knows me too well to keep it from him.

He tips his head back and groans. “Fine. I’ll go with you. But God, I’m going to kill Brad for this.”

“Why would you want to kill Brad?”

We both straighten quickly and spin toward the door that Harrison didn’t shut fully behind him.

Ivy.

Ivy is standing in the doorway.

In her wedding dress.

Dammit.

“Have you guys seen him? I haven’t talked to him all day and I can’t find him.”

And Jesus fucking Christ I have never seen a more beautiful woman in my life.

The dress leaves her shoulders bare and nips in slightly at the waist, but falls straight to the floor with a short train fanningout behind her. Her light blonde hair is styled in loose curls that frame her gorgeous, sweet face and fall just past her shoulders. All of that skin is gorgeous and golden, but worry has flushed her cheeks and made her big blue eyes bright.

Ivy looks worried. Gorgeous. But worried.

Harrison clears his throat and then elbows me.

I cough and then nod. “Uh, yeah. I’ve…heard from him.”

Her eyes widen, and she visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. Where is he?” She frowns. “And why do you want to kill him?”

Fuck.

Harrison looks at me. I look at him.

I don’ttechnicallyknow where he is. He didn’t tell me what plane he was getting on or where he was going.

But he’s not here and I can’t believe I’m the one who has to break Ivy’s heart.

“What’s going on?” Liam Tate, Ivy’s best friend, steps into the room behind Ivy. He eyes Harrison, then me.

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