Page 8 of Three Grumpy Groomsmen

Liam’s face is red with anger. He’s shoving his phone into his pocket. “If that’s what Ivy wants, that’s what we’ll do. Why the hell are you asking me?”

Harrison stiffens. There’s no mistaking the venom in Liam’s voice and I suspect not all of it is directed toward the missing Brad.

Liam definitely had his feelings hurt by Harrison after they hooked up, though the details are a little unclear to me. Liam isn’t big on sharing his feelings, not even with me.

Their obvious tension is actually giving me something to focus on other than my own shock and grief—though is it grief or just a bruised ego? At the moment, I’m not even sure, which is very confusing.

“Liam, go with Harrison, please,” I say, determined to focus on the practical matters at hand. “I need you to tell my parents first before Harrison addresses the whole crowd. And my bridesmaids.”

I only have two. My little sister, Cece, who is only fourteen, and is going to be devastated, and Brad’s sister, Julianna, who has never warmed up to me and vice versa. I suspect Julianna will be shedding no tears today.

Liam grimaces, but he nods. “Of course. Harrison, you’re telling Brad’s parents that their son is a selfish, cowardly asshole.”

“Sure. I’ll say it just like that. Word for word.” Harrison rolls his eyes. He reaches out toward Liam, who immediately jerks away.

“What are you doing?” Liam demands.

“I want a sip of whiskey. Relax, William.”

Oh, boy. That’s not going to go over well. I know for a fact Liam hates the nickname Harrison has given him.

Liam stomps past Harrison, taking the whiskey with him, and yanks open the door to exit. “Get your own fucking whiskey.”

“That is my whiskey! I brought it with me this morning!” He catches the door that Liam is letting slam in his face and stomps out of the room.

“Good to see they’re getting along so well now,” I joke to Ford, because if you can’t laugh, you’ll cry. Another useless platitude. That’s not even true in my case.

“Like long-lost brothers.” Then Ford looks at me when he realizes what he’s said and makes a goofy face. “Maybe notbrothers,” he adds hastily.

I start laughing.

He joins in.

It feels good to laugh. It’s releasing some of the tension I’ve felt since I walked in and knew something was terribly, horribly wrong.

“So I take it you know?” I ask. “About them?”

Ford’s expression is making it pretty clear Harrison told him about his night with Liam.

“All I know is that they had a moment and then Harrison fucked it up somehow.” Ford rubs his jaw. “He doesn’t mean to, but he does that regularly.”

“Liam doesn’t have the best track record either. He keeps things too close to the cuff then is shocked when people can’t read his mind.”

“Well, hopefully they can put whatever the hell their feelings are aside and handle all this.” Ford clears his throat. “Brad’s an idiot. In case you didn’t know that.”

“I’m getting that impression, yes.”

I study him, curious. I don’t know Harrison and Ford particularly well. Sure, they’ve come into town several times over the year that I’ve been dating Brad and we’ve all hung out, but I’ve neverreallytalked to either of them. Not one on one, or at anything more than a superficial level.

I’m impressed they’re sticking around to clean up Brad’s mess.

“Thank you for staying,” I say softly. “I appreciate it.”

Ford scoffs. “Are you kidding me? Of course. I’m so fucking pissed right now at Brad. You shouldn’t have to handle this alone. Which, I have to say, you’re doing remarkably well.”

“Should I be crying?” I probably should be, but one, I don’t cry. Two, I feel weirdly relieved. I’m not sure I want to admit that to Ford, though. Because then he might ask why the hell I was marrying Brad in the first place, and I’m not sure I have the answer to that right now.

“Definitely. Or at the very least cursing Brad’s name or throwing a glass across the room.”

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