Page 26 of Thoroughly Pucked

“It’s a nice, friendly thing to do,” he says. “And we’re going to make sure she has the honeymoon she deserves.”

“Right. A nice, fun, friendly honeymoon.” Those are the rules and we’ve set them.

Too bad I still feel tense all over. And I’d really like this feeling to go the fuck away.

11

WELL, SHE IS SINGLE NOW

Dev

After I pack—which takes all of five minutes since I am the king of the fast pack—I’ve only got a few more hours before it’s wheels up. I leave my place on California Street, hop into my car that still has that fantastic new car smell a year later since I take care of this baby, and cruise over across the bridge to Sausalito. With my shades on and a new podcast blasting called News That Doesn’t Suck, I take the curves, loving the feel of this ride. I had it outfitted at a custom car place, and it’s a sleek matte-black battery-operated vehicle built from the ground up.

It’s a dream car, and ever since I was a kid, I’ve wanted a ride like this. Now that I’m a big boy, I’ve got one.

Once I’m on the main drag, I stop at a tourist shop that carries specialty chocolates and grab a box ofAubrey’s favorites. Feeling pleased with this small gift—a show of friendship, that is all—I head up into the hills till I pull into the driveway of a two-story home overlooking Richardson Bay, its glass walls giving it an expansive view of the deep blue quiet water, then the majestic Golden Gate Bridge beyond.

It’s a good view for my parents’ therapy practice patients, too, and that’s why I bought it for them. Also, they’d never have bought it themselves, and they deserve it.

I turn off the car and get out, bringing the chocolate with me so it doesn’t melt, then gently rap my knuckles against the sign that reads Ryland and Ryland Counseling Services. Their practice is downstairs, and their home upstairs. It’s a Sunday, though, so the shop is closed today. Dad’s out with his kayak club. I don’t have much time before I need to head to the airfield, but I was compelled to stop by. Some kind of antsy feeling was driving me on.

I bound up the steps to the home level, where a cacophony of barks greets my knock. It’s like dogageddon in there, and the familiar sound is the first thing to truly soothe some of the knots I’ve been carrying in my shoulders.

“Coming, coming,” my mom shouts over the noise inside. When she opens the door a few inches, I glimpse her directing stern words over her shoulder. “Lulu, be quiet. It’s your brother.”

A different dog yaps.

“You too, Virgil. Yes, I know he’s your little brother. Now, both of you be quiet.”

I smile in amused admiration when they shut up. Mom swings open the door the rest of the way. The little assholes are sitting primly at her feet like they weren’t losing their Chihuahua minds a moment ago. Lulu’s tail is a blur. Virgil’s thumps hard.

My mom’s hair is slicked back in a long ponytail. She wears glasses and trendy-looking dark blue yoga gear.

“Say hi to Devon now,” she tells the pups.

Lulu hops up and down, whimpering in excitement. After I set the chocolate down on a high table, I bend and scoop up the little brown and tan critter. She licks my face. I breathe easily. Maybe this is what I needed?

“She missed you,” Mom says, then urges me inside, shutting the door.

The black-and-white boy circles me, yapping again.

“Give some attention to your big brother,” Mom chides.

“Mom, I am older than the dog.” I pick him up, too, scratching his head.

“You were once, and then you weren’t. It happens, sweetheart. It’s called dog years,” she says.

After I give them their necessary affection, I set each pup down, then head into the kitchen, passing the big-screen TV on the wall. It’s paused on a yoga video. Mom gets to work making tea because it’s always teatime for her. “Want some?”

“Nope. I just wanted to say hi before I head out of town.” Yeah, I’m twenty-nine and still tell my parents when I leave for a trip. I’m that guy. But I—gasp!—like my parents. They’re cool people.

She tilts her head as she scoops tea leaves into a pot. “Yes. Details. I’ve been dying to know since yesterday. Where are you going?”

As I stand at the counter, I give her the short version of what went down after we left the church.

Her jaw is agape. “Wow. All Garrett said was that the groom had taken off, but he was grateful to everyone for coming. Aiden’s an even bigger asshole than I’d thought,” she says as she hits stop on the kettle.

“Mom, I hope you don’t use that language with your clients,” I chide.

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