“Christ almighty, she doesn’t even know which country she’s in,” I groan.
“And who the hell names their kid Tiffy and expects her not to grow up to suck cock in closets?” Lane asks, making me snort out a laugh.
Marcus scratches the back of his blond head. “Was the blowy even worth it?”
“It was barely a two-spurter,” I admit.
“I feel like I’m partly responsible. For the situation, not your abysmal lack of jizz,” he clarifies. “I’m the one who goaded you to get off your ass and get back into the game when the princess was eye-fucking you from across the room.”
I empty my glass and smack the mug down onto the wooden table with force. “Not your fault, bro. You know I don’t do anything I don’t want to do.”
“True. You are a stubborn fuck.” Lane motions for the waiter to bring us another round. “You’re going to be fine. Dallas has some good players. Baylor Ward is amazing, and from what I understand, he’s a damn good guy too.”
“He is,” Marcus agrees. “I played with him in college, and he’s a stand-up guy. I’ll message him later and tell him you’re my boy and to take care of you.”
My phone dings with an email notification, and I pull it from my hip and swipe to check it. My eyes freeze on the screen.
“What’s wrong, Reno?” Rivera asks, obviously reading my face.
I blow out a breath. “It’s an email from the travel agent with the plane tickets for my trip.”
“What trip?” he asks, and I raise my gaze to his.
My lips twist to the side. “I was supposed to leave for my honeymoon in two days.”
“Oh. Fuck,” he says with a wince. “You forgot to cancel it?”
“I guess so. Leia planned and booked it, using my credit card, obviously.”
“Obviously.”
“I’ll just email the agent and tell her the situation. I’m sure it’s non-refundable, but whatever.”
I begin to type out a response when Marcus lifts a hand the size of a tire. “Wait. Where were you supposed to go?”
Lowering my phone to the table, I shrug. “Some island in the Caribbean. Like I said, I let Leia plan her dream trip.”
He drums his fingers on his lips. “Hmmm.”
“Hmmm what?”
He points his index finger at me. “You should go.”
I give him a dubious arch of one dark eyebrow. “I should go on my honeymoon by myself?”
“Nah, dude. You should go on avacationby yourself.” He makes a rainbow with his hand. “Just think. Sun. Sea. Chicks galore… in swimsuits.” He literally sings that last word.
“I don’t know, man. Doesn’t that seem kind of lame?”
Lane shakes his head, obviously warming to Marcus’s dumbass idea. “I dunno, Reno. I think you should go too. You need to get away from here for a while. How long is the trip for?”
I had no clue. Checking the return date on the plane tickets, I say, “Two weeks.”
“That will be perfect. Two weeks of having someone wait on you hand and foot. Island vibes. Plenty of scantily clad women.”
The images roll over in my mind, and I actually begin to consider it. I wouldn’t have to cook or any other mundane daily tasks. I could just veg by the pool or on the beach and drink myself into oblivion while feeling sorryfor myself.
Best of all, I could put off making plans to move to another state because I honestly couldn’t bring myself to think about that for a while.
