Page 151 of The Winslow Brothers

Frankly, ever since Winnie said she’d help me, she wasn’t lying. And once it was apparent that I’d fucked things up so bad with Sophie that she wasn’t even answering my calls or texts, Winnie’s been on the case, even dragged two of her best friends, Cassie and Georgia, in on the charade. They’ve basically been undercover CIA agents, trying to figure out Sophie’s whereabouts and shit.

It all sounds pretty stalkerish, but what can I say? I’m new at this whole being-in-love thing.

“But don’t worry, I got enough info about Sophie to know we’re still a definite go.”

“Really?”

“Yes. You’re at her apartment, right?”

“Standing outside her building like a stalker as we speak.”

“Perfect.”

“You realize that you probably shouldn’t be encouraging this sad behavior, right?”

“Jude, it’s not sad when you’re putting it all on the line for the woman you love.”

“Yeah, yeah, you keep telling me that. I just hope you don’t have it all wrong.”

“I don’t,” she says, and her voice doesn’t falter. “Now, since Julie let me know that Sophie just texted that she’s done running errands but is going to call me in about thirty minutes when she’s back at her apartment to talk about my fake wedding plans, I also know that you’re exactly where you need to be, and the rooftop is ready.”

“What?How?Are you here?”

“No, Jude, but I’m just that good,” she answers through a confident laugh. “And I also had a little help from some of my friends.”

I glance around the mostly empty sidewalk, but besides an old man with a cane and a small group of teenagers near the bodega on the corner, I see zero familiar faces.

But then, when I turn on my heel to look toward Sophie’s building, one big, familiar-as-hell dude is highlighted beneath the glow of the entry lights as he comes striding out with an even bigger smile on his face.

“Uh…Win? By any chance, did you happen to have Thatch help you?” I ask her, a part of me hoping that what I’m seeing isn’t real.

“He had to pitch in last minute,” she answers. “Between an issue at Wes’s restaurant and an off-season knee injury for one of my players, I couldn’t be the one to do the setup on two hours’ notice.”

Thatcher Kelly and his wife Cassie are two of Wes and Winnie’s best friends. But Thatch is also one wild motherfucker. Frankly, the two of us are kind of kindred spirits when it comes to seeking out fun and good times.

But I’m not so sure he’s the man I want at the helm of this.

Instantly, visuals of last summer when we caught a canoe on fire while shooting off fireworks for the Fourth of July flash in my head.

God, no.

“You didn’t happen to plan a big fireworks show or anything, right?”

She cackles. “After the two of you almost lit the lake house on fire? Um, no. There’re no fireworks.”

“Jude, the man of the hour!” Thatch exclaims and walks toward me.

“Wait…is that Thatch? Is he still there?” Winnie questions in my ear.

“Hey, man,” I greet, and Winnie is now yelling.

“Oh my God, tell him he needs to leave! Now!”

“By the way, my sister says you need to leave.”

He chuckles. “Tell Winnie to cool her jets and that ole Thatcher was just making sure everything was fluffing perfect.” He winks. “Which it is. Made sure it’s extra special just for you, bud.”

Now, I’m really starting to wonder if I should be terrified that Thatcher Kelly was a part of this planning process. This is a bigmoment, what feels like the most important in my life, and I can’t have anything go wrong.

---