Page 48 of Worth the Chase

My favorite designer suit sat staring at me, begging me to reach for it, so I did. The navy-blue material with barely there white pinstripes made me smile. I loved this suit. Dropping my clothes to the floor, I stood there, mostly naked, as I pulled the pants from the hanger and prayed like hell they still fit.

I hadn’t been working out the way that I used to, and I was a little worried that they might be too big since I’d lost some muscle. Reaching for the crisp white button-down shirt, I hoped I wouldn’t be swimming in it either. Thankfully, both pieces of clothes still felt good. Grabbing the jacket last, I slipped it on before heading out of the closet and toward the full-length mirror in my room.

“Damn, son. You should wear this all the time,” I said out loud, to no one but myself.

Spinning around so I could check out my ass in the pants, I gave myself a nod. I still looked damn good, even with the weight loss. My phone was on the bed, and I lunged for it before snapping a selfie of me standing in front of the mirror and sending it to my brothers.

Hot date tonight, gentlemen. Wish me luck.

PATRICK:

Does your hand like it when you wear suits?

THOMAS:

Please tell me it’s with an actual person.

Not sure why I tell either of you anything.

THOMAS:

Because you have no friends.

PATRICK:

Because we’re the only ones who pretend to listen.

Damn. You two are fucking mean. Now, wish me luck.

THOMAS:

Is it with Bella?

PATRICK:

Who else would it be with? The guy’s been a fool for her since he got home.

THOMAS:

You never know with him. He could have met some chick at the grocery store for all we know.

PATRICK:

Fair point.

I hate you both. I fixed your relationships, and this is the thanks I get.

PATRICK:

Fixed is a strong word.

THOMAS:

I won’t even dignify that with a response.

PATRICK:

You just did, dumbass.

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