Page 131 of Champagne Fizz

It’s actually pretty hilarious.

Everyone is having a grand old time, except for Ned. Even his work colleagues are laughing and drinking, but Ned hates being the center of attention, and Connor has gone out of his way to make this as uncomfortable as possible for him.

Ned sits in the middle of the underwater scene looking like he’s going to murder someone: probably Connor who’s paid the mermaids to lay it on thick. One mermaid grinds against her harpoon. Another takes a seaweed-colored scarf and uses it to lasso Ned. The third is on Ned’s lap, flapping her sequin tail and bouncing her tits in his face (to which I hear Mason make some crack about living out his naughty Ariel-Disney-princess fantasy).

Connor is laughing like he’s waited his whole life to embarrass his brother like this, walking up to Ned and offering him a giant Blue Hawaiian drink. Connor explains that if Ned finishes the whole cocktail, he will “stop the mermaid torture.” If not, Ned has to withstand several more minutes of mermaid shenanigans. Ned scowls, not touching the drink, and I remember there’s a story about the Voss brother’s first visit to the island and Blue Hawaiians making Ned sick—really sick. Clearly, Connor knows his brother wouldn’t drink it.

All three mermaids surround Ned and start shaking their tits in his face like they’re going to play paddle-ball with his head. Connor and Mason laugh, along with the rest of the room, and me with them. Only, it strikes me that this is why Kendall thinks all men will turn her into a joke. I mean, look at these women and how we’ve used them to embarrass Ned. Our male traditions and rites of passage are awful. Ned is over-the-moon about Olivia. He doesn’t need a “last night of freedom” to live out some male debauchery. Of course, if it was Mason in the middle of that six-tit-motorboat-show, he’d think he’d died and gone to heaven (tit-heaven in Mason’s case). None of us actually asked Ned if he wanted a bachelor party like this. Probably because Connor knew he’d answerHell, no!And from the look on Ned’s face, I think he might disembowel his brother before the night’s out.

I head for the side door to get some air. Hoots and hollering and the clank of alcoholic drinks echo behind me as I step into the small patio space at the back of the bar. The terrace looks surprisingly normal, decorated with surfboards and starfish instead of boob balloons and vagina chocolates. I never thought I’d say Mason’s kitsch-designs would be refreshing, but they are compared to the underwater luau inside.

“Need a break from all the debauchery?”

“Shit!” I startle, practically jumping out of my skin as I turn to see someone lurking in the shadows of the patio.

Not just anyone—Kendall.

What is she doing here?

Kendall leans against the patio fence wearing a pink power-suit with a big tie at the waist, reminding me of how cute she looked when I first met her in the elevator before she knew I owned Flambé.

“Jiminy crickets, Kendall,” I exclaim. “What are you doing lurking over there?”

“Jiminy crickets?” she tosses at me haughtily.

“I’m not making fun of you. I swear.” I step to the far side of the patio and out of reach, in case she decides to smack me. “Maybe your love of minced oaths and sweetness has rubbed off on me.”

“My sweetness,” she scoffs, her lips pursing shut as her eyes flick to the bar behind me. The Gin n’ Lava echoes with raucous laughter; nothing sweet is happening in there. “I’m pretty sure that’s not what you’re after.”

I grit my teeth. “It’s a bachelor party,” I say, trying to let her insinuation roll off without picking a fight that I’ll lose miserably.

She frowns. That isn’t a good excuse.

“What are you doing here?” I repeat. “You plan the wedding, you don’t have to attend the bachelor party.” I motion to the bar lamely.

“My job is to make sure the groom walks down the aisle on Saturday,” she says, crossing her arms defensively. “I’m here to make sure nothing happens, and Ned doesn’t do anything he’ll regret.”

“Trust me, Ned’s not going to do anything.”

Kendall winces at those words:trust me.

“Men can surprise you,” she says with a tight lip, and of course, she means me. I take it, knowing that nothing I say will make her think differently.

“You’ve got this all wrong,” I nod to the whoops and cat calls. “Ned’s crazy about Olivia. He’s not going to mess this up.”

Kendall’s lips tighten. She doesn’t believe me. Or at least, she wouldn’t be so certain if it wasmein the middle of that mermaid mayhem.

“Trust m—” I bite my tongue. I need to avoid that word. “Ned is hating every minute of what’s happening in there,” I clarify. “The half-naked girls and vagina tarts, that’s all Connor and Mason. Well, maybe the tarts are from Arie, but my point is you don’t need to worry about Ned. Nothing’s going to keep him from walking down the aisle on Saturday.”

Kendall’s arms clench tighter, only something in her expression reveals it isn’t the bachelor party that’s got her worried.

“Kendall?” My brow furrows. “What aren’t you telling me.”

“Nothing,” she says quickly, dropping her arms in an unsuccessful move to seem at ease. “Everything’s fine.”

“Why are you really here?” I press.

“Not because of you, if that’s what you’re asking!” she snaps, her guard going back up.

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