Good Boy (WAGs #1)(13)

“Wow, look at all this.” Jamie looks so handsome in his suit and tie that I have to restrain myself from running over to ruffle his hair. There’s a smile on his tanned face, and now I know why I’ve been working my ass off these past few weeks.

“You look so amazing,” I tell him, my throat closing up a little. “Wes is a lucky man. I hope he knows.”

Jamie grins. “He does. Hey there, Dyson. How are you?” My brother holds out a hand for Dyson to shake.

My friend hesitates for a second, a hurt look in his eyes. Then he pulls a startled Jamie into a full-body hug. “I’m so happy for you,” he says shakily.

Jamie shoots me a confused look over Dyson’s head. “Thanks, man. I appreciate it.”

Dyson pulls back with a shuddering sigh. “I’ll just…go powder my nose,” he mumbles, walking off toward the main house.

“Is he okay?” Jamie asks, pointing over his shoulder at my crazy friend.

“I’ll check on him in a minute. But in the meantime, is there anything you need? Guests will start arriving in an hour. Is Wes here? Is he dressed? I should really check on the musicians.”

Jamie puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me right in the eye. “Calm down. You’re making me tense.”

“I am?”

He gives me another big, baby-brother smile. “You did a great job out here, Jessie. It’s going to be a terrific party. I love the menu.”

We’re having barbecue—brisket and ribs, corn salad, two different kinds of slaw on the side.

“And those balloons by the bathrooms are hysterical.”

Sigh. “I just want you to be happy.”

“I am happy. So stop freaking out and have a glass of wine or something, okay? You deserve it.” He squeezes my shoulder one more time, then walks away to greet our grandmother, who has been relocated to a shadier spot and handed a cup of strong coffee.

Right. I need to calm down. And I’ll do that, just as soon as I check on the musicians I’ve hired. Jamie is right—I’m so tense about the wedding that I hardly recognize myself. I know I need to relax, but I can’t seem to do it. It’s too important to me that my family thinks I’ve done as good a job as anyone could.

They think of me as their hot-mess kid. But now I finally know what I’m supposed to be doing with my life. And when I tell them after the wedding, they’ll still roll their eyes.



Ninety minutes later I’m still a wreck, but it isn’t my own fault.

A couple hundred guests, including some of the most celebrated athletes in the NHL, are seated in tidy rows of wooden chairs on the lawn. My older brothers have just finished seating Nana and the rest of my siblings in the front row.

In the back, under the tent, I stand with the grooms and my parents. A pair of musicians up front play the first descending chords of Pachelbel’s Canon in D on an electric cello and an electric guitar.

It’s go time. But there’s just one problem. Blake Riley—Wes’s best man—is missing.

This is both horrible and unsurprising. In between murderous thoughts, my palms sweat around the bouquet of daisies I’m clutching. If Blake actually shows up now, I’m going to hurl it at him. My mind is a continuous loop of, Where is he? Where is he? Where is he? and Why me?

Beside me, Jamie smooths down Wes’s lapels, then cups his fiancé’s chin in his hand. “You look awesome. You know that, right?”

Wes gives him a shy smile and then takes a deep breath. He looks nervous, the poor sweetie. Wes doesn’t enjoy attention unless he has a hockey stick in his hand. “I’ll be fine,” he says, his voice gravelly. “Can’t wait to be married to you.”

“Tomorrow we’ll be on our way to the beach,” Jamie whispers.

“Can’t wait for that either,” Wes agrees.

“Our baby is getting married,” my mother says with a sigh. “Does this mean we’re officially old?”

“If we are, don’t tell me,” my father grumbles.

I turn my head for the hundredth time, looking for the jerk who’s supposed to walk me down the aisle. And lo and behold, his enormous form is standing fifty yards away, talking to a middle-aged woman in a beige dress.

My blood pressure spikes. Does he not see that there are two hundred people waiting for him? I’m about to go stomping up the hill and drag him bodily down it when he finally starts moving in my direction.

Relief is like a cool breeze on my face. He puts his arm out, and the woman takes it. They make their way down to where I’m standing. When they’re only a few paces away, I open my mouth, ready to chew Blake a new one. But Wes looks over his shoulder, does an enormous double take, and then says the last thing I’d ever expect him to say.

“Mom!”

We all stare at the newcomer for a second. She and Wes have the same coloring, I suppose. Brown hair and attractive features. But where Wes is a little dangerous looking, this woman seems to have been constructed at a country club by parts procured in a fancy department store. Her dress is prim, and there is a perfect strand of pearls around her neck.

“Hello, Ryan,” she says quietly. “I hope you don’t mind that I came.” Her eyes look a little shiny as she blinks at him. “You look very dapper, dear.”

His mouth opens and then shuts again. Then it opens once more. “Where’d you leave Dad?”