Page 59 of Their Greatest Strength

While he shuts the door behind us, I head right for his wife, knowing she’s the only one who can convince my stubborn-as-a-mule brother to do something he doesn’t want to. And right now, that’s talking to me when he so obviously has other plans.

I flop down on the bed beside her and open my mouth to speak when Oliver snorts.

“Wouldn’t sit there if I were you. Honeymoon and all.”

Once I realize what he’s talking about, I hop right back off the mattress with my nose crinkled.

“Fuck off, Oliver. I knew it smelled like sex in here.”

“I’m going to the bathroom while you boys talk,” Avery mutters, her cheeks red as she watches her husband.

He doesn’t bother pretending he’s not hating every inch of distance between them as he gawks at her. “We won’t be long.”

“We might be,” I say.

Avery slips off the bed, and I contemplate pleading with her to stay and help calm her husband when he inevitably freaks out at my news.

“Eyes off my wife, asshole.”

I laugh, batting my lashes at him. The post-wedding bliss must be chafing a bit. “Call her your wife again. I don’t think you’ve said it enough yet.”

“I’ll call her my wife anytime I want to. Now, tell me what it is you need so I can get back in bed with her.”

My laugh dies, all my humour replaced with nerves as I blurt out, “I’m engaged.”

He stares at me blankly, not believing me.

“I’m not lying. Hand to God,” I add weakly.

“We’re not religious.”

I stifle a sigh. “Okay, hand to the fucking sun, then. I don’t know. I’m not lying.”

“Since fucking when are you engaged? To who?” he asks sharply, his stare blazing.

“I met her a couple of weeks ago. Nice girl.”

What the fuck?Nice girlis the last way I’d choose to describe Blakely. It’s way too plain for her. Bordering on insulting.

“A nice girl? She’s a nice girl? You asked someone to marry you, and the best you can do is say she’s a nice girl?”

“Okay, she’s a nice, gorgeous girl. Better? Fuck, don’t bust my balls right now.”

“You came here, Jamie. I’ll bust your balls if I fucking want to because what the fuck did you do? You’re not the marriage type. And you’re surely not the asking a nice girl to marry you out of the blue type. Has Mom met her? Dad? I damn well haven’t. You’ve gotten one too many concussions. I knew you should have stopped playing football.”

Jesus. I don’t know what’s more hurtful, the fact he doesn’t think I’m the marriage type of guy or that I’m doing this because I’ve hit my head a few too many times. Just because I haven’t stayed celibate for years doesn’t mean I’m not interested in the idea of marriage. Just never expected it to happen already.

I hold my hands out in front of me and shake my head, feeling the colour and heat leach from my face. “Slow down. First, I’ve only had three concussions. And second, no. Nobody’s met her but me. But that doesn’t mean anything. We’re getting married, and that’s that. I just wanted you to know before the news went live tomorrow.”

Oliver balks, turning more green than pale. “The news?”

“Yeah. I’m announcing it tomorrow. It’s happening.”

“No. It’s not. Call it off right now. I’ll have Dad come over so we can talk about it together,” he declares, already hunting for what I assume is his phone.

I grab his wrist and tug. “No. You’re not calling Dad. I’m not telling them yet.”

I will once I have to. When they won’t have the chance to convince me to change my mind.

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