Page 28 of The Star

She chases after me. “I got you a suit!”

I turn to look at her as I’m reaching for the door handle. “For what?”

She sighs. “The wedding, Carson. You’re my Maid of Honor!”

I rub a hand down my face. “Can you at least sayManof Honor or something?”

She laughs, wagging the garment bag in the air. “Try it on for me?”

I crack a smile. “Come on, then.”

She squeals like a schoolgirl, excitement flowing through her entire atmosphere as I push the front door open and head inside. She speeds past me, leading me into the living room, where she has completely transformed the room into some sort of bridal convention. There’re tables set up on the far wall, covered from edge to edge with different flowers. She has a rack set up with endless amounts of garment bags hanging on it, magazines and all sorts of shit is spread out on the carpet in the center of the room.

“Wow.” I throw my backpack down on the couch. “Sure you want to go this big, mom? This is your second wedding.”

She gives me a disapproving look, but then shoves the garment bag into my chest. “Change.”

If I didn’t love my mom so much, I could be laid out in bed right now, watching some shitty movie and relaxing my aching muscles. Instead, I am heading to the guest bathroom to put on a three-piece suit. Being a mama’s boy has its downfalls, for sure.

Once I’m shut in the bathroom, I hang the bag on the back of the door and unzip it. The suit and vest are a dark heather grey, and the shirt is a crisp white that has been freshly pressed. I go about slipping my clothes off, then peel the suit from the hanger.

The shirt fits like a glove, and I’m not surprised that the suit has already been tailored to fit my big shoulders and thighs – it’s not my mom’s first time buying me a suit.

Once I’m dressed, my shirt tucked in and the suit jacket fastened in front of me with one button, I take a look in the mirror. I look fresh as hell, like someone’s daddy on Wall Street. I almost want to ditch the jacket and roll the sleeves of my button-down to show off the muscles in my forearms.

But I don’t. I muss my hair, which is freshly washed but unstyled from my shower in the locker room after practice, then head out to show my mom.

I collide with Logan as I’m crossing through the kitchen toward the living room, so I grab her by the shoulders on instinct to stop her from falling on her ass.

Once she’s stable on her legs again, she takes a step back and runs her eyes over me. “Holy. Shit.”

My lips twist into a smirk. “Like what you see?”

“You look like you’re going to court,” she deadpans, making me laugh as I slip my hands into the pockets of my dress slacks.

“Is your mouth watering, baby sister?” I take a step closer to her.

She blinks a few times, sliding her gaze slowly up my body until she meets my eyes, then she snaps out of her daze. Her face twists into that bitchy scowl, and she scoffs a laugh. “Does it hurt your neck to carry around such a big head all the time?”

I shrug, playing along. “I’ve gotten used to it.”

She rolls her eyes, pushing past me to continue through the kitchen.

I take a step toward the living room, but then I stop and turn my head to look at her. “Don’t you dare look at my delicious ass when I walk out of this room, Logan.”

She pulls the fridge open roughly, ignoring me. I laugh as I leave, pleased with myself.

When I come into my mom’s line of sight, she slaps her hand against her mouth but speaks through the cover. “Carson, you look so handsome!”

I give her a spin, then grin once I’m facing her again. “You sure you want me to wear this? I might upstage you on your special day.”

She puts her hands on her hips. “You won’t.”

I put a hand to my chest in mock hurt. “You wound me.”

She steps up to me, brushing her hands down the front of my jacket as she inspects the suit. She hums as she straightens the collar of my shirt, then brushes down my arms. “Should we get you a tie?”

“I think I’m okay without one.” I pop an eyebrow.

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