Good Boy (WAGs #1)(15)

I sneak a glance at Wes’s mother. She’s clapping politely. I can’t imagine what’s in her head right now as she watches my big, crazy family applauding the addition of her son to our clan.

The last thing that happens before the vows is that the cellist plays an Irish tune while my tiny nephew Ty wobbles down the aisle carrying the rings. He gets about halfway there when he sort of stumbles to a halt, then looks around himself, as if unsure what he’s supposed to do next.

Jamie steps out, positioning himself so that he’s centered on the aisle, then crouches down. “Over here, little man,” he says.

Ty’s round face lights up, and he starts again, walking toward his uncle Jamie in his little suit jacket and clip-on tie. Everyone melts, and not just because they’re sitting in the sun.

Jamie takes the rings from Ty and then picks him up, handing him to his daddy in the front row.

When Jamie is back in position, facing Wes, the pastor asks them to join hands. From where I’m standing, I can’t really see my brother’s face. But I can see Ryan Wesley perfectly. As a rule, he’s not a solemn or serious guy. But right now his expression is full of awe.

The minister introduces the vows portion of the ceremony and then begins with my brother. “I, James,” she says, “take you, Ryan, to be my friend and husband.”

“I, James,” my beautiful brother echoes, “take you, Ryan, to be my friend and husband.”

“To be yours in times of plenty and in times of want, in times of sickness and in times of perfect health.” My brother repeats the vow. “In times of joy and inevitable sorrow, in times of failure and in times of glory, I promise to cherish and respect you, to care for and protect you, to comfort and encourage you, and stay by your side, forever.”

Oh, man. My eyes sting like crazy as I listen to my baby brother repeat those lovely words. Because I know he’ll make good on them. And Wes is looking back at Jamie like he’s hearing words of love for the first time in his life. Like he’d better not breathe because he might miss something.

And I want that, too. I want someone to look at me like they just won the lottery. And I want to feel sure that I have, too—that I can say “forever” and know I’m making the absolutely right decision. I’ve been in love before. A little. But never like that.

When it’s Wes’s turn, he lifts his chin in preparation.

The minister feeds him the first line: “I, Ryan, take you, James, to be my friend and husband.”

“I, Ryan,” his husky voice repeats, “take you, James, to be my friend and husband.”

“To be yours in times of plenty and in times of want.”

“To be yours in times of plenty…” He clears his throat, and his cheeks pink up. “And in times of want.”

“In times of sickness and in times of perfect health…”

Wes repeats each line slowly, though his voice becomes a little rougher each time. “I promise to cherish and respect you…”

His eyes are wet now, and I clutch my flowers a little more tightly. Come on, sweetie, I silently encourage him. You’re almost there.

I feel Jamie lean forward a degree or two, squeezing Wes’s hand.

“To care for and protect you,” he gets out. Then one fat tear launches itself from his eye and down his rugged cheek.

My heart breaks into little tiny splinters. Maybe I didn’t enjoy planning this wedding, but I’m sure as hell happy to be part of it now.

“And stay by your side, forever,” Wes finishes eventually.

Noisy sobbing can be heard from the front row. It’s Dyson, of course. I force a smile onto my face so I don’t start crying, too. Though there are plenty of people dabbing their eyes in my peripheral vision.

“By the power vested in me by the State of California,” the minister announces with a smile, “I hereby declare you legally married. You may kiss your husband now.”

Wes lunges forward and wraps Jamie in the tightest hug I’ve ever seen, like he’s needed to do that for hours. My brother pats his back and turns his head to kiss him, and everybody cheers.

The musicians begin to play again. Dyson weeps loudly, and everyone gives our men a standing ovation.

Ladies and gentlemen, my party planning career has peaked. I’ve helped create magic, and I never need to do it again.





5 Purr-fection





Blake


Jess knocked this wedding out of the park. I don’t know why she was stressing so hard, because everything is purr-fection. The ceremony, the dinner, this kick-ass reception. Everything.

I don’t think a single guest is having a bad time. Folks are dancing and chatting and munching on the five-tiered wedding cake that I forced myself to have only one slice of. If not for my solid good judgment, I’d already have eaten four of the five tiers.

I eat tons.

Right now I’m focusing on drinking. Wesley and J-Bomb sprang for the good stuff—the serving staff is handing out bottomless flutes of Cristal and Dom, and there’s an entire table of craft beer on the lawn. I chose champagne. I’ve always loved weddings. The cake. The bottles of Dommy P. And since I’m never having a wedding myself, I might as well enjoy this one.

“Hey! You’re one of Ryan’s teammates?” a female voice coos.