Irresponsible Puckboy (Puckboys #2)(7)

Tripp snickers from behind me. The wedding we witnessed says otherwise, but okay, lady. If you want to tell me that shitshow in there was actually planned, I’ll believe you.

“Can you point me in the direction of a place that does? I wanna lock this sexy beast up.”

She eyes me, then pulls a business card out of her top drawer. “This chapel offers same-day ceremonies. Congratulations on your upcoming nuptials.”

I take the card. “Yeah, thanks.”

We leave before she can judge us any harder.

“Dex, maybe we should—”

I hold up my finger while I dial the number on the card.

“Tiny chapel, big dreams,” comes the chipper voice.

“Ah, yeah, hey. I want to get married.”

She giggles. “This is the place to do it.”

“Awesome. And we can come in today, yeah?”

“Of course. We’re a little busy at the moment and will pick up again tonight, but usually late afternoon is when there isn’t much of a wait.” She goes over some more details—what we need to bring in terms of ID, the marriage license we need to get from the official marriage license place first—and then we set a time for four o’clock.

“Perfect, see you then!”

I hang up, feeling really good about this plan. If it’s that straightforward and easy, it’s clearly meant to be.

Tripp sighs. “I guess we’re doing this.”

“Come on, you have to admit it’ll be a fun story.”

“Except we’re not going to tell a single person about this.”

“What?” I pretend to be shocked. “Should I be offended that it’s this hard to get you to marry me and you’re obviously embarrassed by it?”

“No, you should be flattered that I’m agreeing. This will be the one and only wedding I’ll ever have.”

“Naw.” I bump his jaw with my knuckles. “And you’ll always be my first.”

“Right.” He shifts, suddenly uncomfortable. The change in expression makes me frown, but I try not to draw attention to it. Tripp has always been there for whatever harebrained idea I come up with, and I’m the same for him. No hesitation, no questions asked. But over the last couple of months, I’ve been picking up on something. I don’t even know what. Tripp is the same as he’s ever been, but there’s a pushback coming from him lately, and I don’t even know if he’s aware he’s doing it. I could be reading into things too much, and maybe I’m feeling sore about yet another girlfriend pointing out I’m not the type to stick around for, but I know Tripp. He jumps in with both feet.

Recently, it’s been more like a controlled fall.

He comes with me to get the marriage license, but even after that process, there are still a few hours until we can go in.

I clap, hit with an idea. “If this is going to help me get over my fear, we need to go all out. Get into the theme. How about we go and get ready and then meet there at four?”

“Sure, Dex.”

“Don’t leave me standing at the altar,” I warn as he starts to walk away.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Love you, bye!” I say, like always.

“Yeah, you too.”





When it’s ten minutes past our meeting time and Tripp still hasn’t shown, I’m worried he’s going to leave me hanging. I’m anxious enough just being here with the thought that I’m about to promise myself to someone for life—real or not—that every passing minute stretches out forever. I shoot the girl behind the desk another reassuring smile and am about to pull out my phone to text him when he barrels through the door.

“Sorry, I’m here.”

I crane my neck to look around the guy standing in front of me. The one who looks suspiciously like my best friend, but there’s no way Tripp would be dressed like that.

“Whatcha doing?” he asks.

“Looking for the dude I’m marrying today. He must be around here somewhere.”

Tripp bats at my head. “You don’t think I look good?”

“I think you look … umm, about as put together as the two people we saw get married earlier today.”

He hums. “Just what every man wants to hear on his wedding day.”

“What’s with the outfit?”

“What? You said to dress in theme.”

I gesture to my suit. “Yeah, wedding theme.”

He doesn’t look the slightest bit apologetic. “Exactly. Weddings are stupid, so I dressed the part.”

I take in his “I’m with stupid” T-shirt, the water wings, and his kilt.

“In that case, you nailed the brief.”

“Don’t you wanna know what it all means?” he asks innocently.

“I think you’re going to tell me anyway.”

“The kilt was as close to a dress as I’ll go, even for you, and it’s my family kilt. Only worn on special occasions. The T-shirt, because, duh. I think this whole wedding idea is stupid.”

“And the water wings?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He looks proud of himself. “They’re to stop me from drowning in all this commitment.”