Jude rolls his eyes but takes it all in good humor. “I, Jude Winslow, am the biggest asshole of the night!” he shouts out into the darkness, his voice bouncing off the water and surrounding trees. “And before I walk The Plank, I would like to apologize for my asshole behavior!”
“And what exactly are you sorry for?” Remy questions, and Jude sighs.
“For telling the strippers to blow your fucking mind and for making us go see that nutty fortune-teller!”
Brad looks back at the three of us. “Is he forgiven?”
I nod.
Ty nods.
“Yep,” Remy says, smiling toward Jude. “I think that about covers it.”
And then Ty starts cheering, “Jump! Jump! Jump!”
Three seconds later, Jude backs up ten steps and proceeds to jump into the lake, cannonball-style, forcing the water to splash up and into the boat.
“Always the asshole,” Uncle Brad mutters on a chuckle, wiping droplets off his forehead.
“C’mon, you pussies!” Jude shouts once his head breaks the surface of the water. “The water is perfect!”
It doesn’t take much to convince Ty. On a shrug, he gets down to his boxers and jumps into the lake.
And to my surprise, Remy is next, downing the rest of his beer and shrugging off his clothes. Thanks to the destruction Sunshine’s stiletto did to his boxers, my oldest brother dives into the water with this bare ass in the wind.
“Yo, Uncle B!” Jude shouts from the water. “You think Paula will make us some pancakes when we get back?”
“Where did we go wrong with that one?” Brad questions, his mouth morphing into a smirk, and a laugh bubbles up from my throat.
“I have no idea.”
“I tell ya, Flynn, the woman who ends up marrying that fool should have statues erected in her honor. Get an honorary Purple Heart. Something.”
I grin and look out toward the lake where my three brothers are swimming in the calm waters that were a staple of our childhood. This night might’ve had some serious twists and turns, but I can’t picture a better way to end it.
Yeah. My work here is done.
Remy
I wake up to find Charlotte’s body curled against mine. Sunlight filters in through the blinds of my bedroom window, and when I glance at the clock, I see it’s only a little after eight—aka still pretty fucking early. After a night that got me home when the sun was basically rising, I should still be sleeping, but my work schedule—that revolves around being up by six for early trading hours—has fucked me over for any potential sleeping-in possibilities.
I simply can’t do it. No matter what time I go to sleep the night before.
A yawn escapes my lips, and I rub at my tired eyes with my hand.
What a fucking night.
Between the strip club, the crazy-ass fortune-teller, and the spontaneous visit to the lake house, Flynn didn’t drop me off until a little after five-thirty this morning. Thankfully, though, Charlotte was sound asleep, and I crawled into bed, making sure I didn’t wake her.
Still careful not to jostle sleeping beauty from her peaceful slumber, I reach out to snag my cell from the nightstand. With one glance to the locked screen, I note a few notifications.
Alerts about new messages in the group chat with my siblings.
Work-related emails.
And two missed texts from an unknown number.
Curious, I open my inbox and read the first message.
Unknown: Hey, Remy. It’s Maria Baros. I’m aware that it probably feels like this message is coming out of the freaking sky (LOL), but I’m moving (uptown LOL, NY4Life) and I found old pictures of us back in high school, and obviously, it got me to thinking about you. Of us. Of the good old days. We had some fun times, didn’t we? Anyway, I guess I kind of, sort of, maybe looked you up on Facebook and saw that you’re getting married this weekend, and I just wanted to say congratulations. I’m really happy for you, and I’m so glad to see you’ve found your happy ending.
Maria Baros. My first real relationship. My high school sweetheart.
We were thicker than thieves and dated for most of high school.
And she’s right; there are a lot of good memories wrapped up in our relationship.
Unknown: I got a new phone number, btw. But don’t feel like you need to text me back, okay? I’m not expecting us to reconnect or anything weird, given you’re about to get married LOL. But I can honestly say that whenever I think about you, I only have fond, happy memories, and I’m thankful for that. :)
A weird affection for my old high school flame’s goofy ramblings pegs me in the chest, and I smile. Maybe it’s the upcoming nuptials making me feel so sentimental, but it could be that I’m feeling a bit reminiscent too.
Maria has always been a really good fucking person—light and love and kindness.
And I can’t deny that I still adore her. Adore who she is. Adore what my bond with her gave me.
Because of her, I learned how to be in a relationship.
How to be a boyfriend.
And even though we haven’t been together for many years, she’ll always have a special place in my heart. You just don’t forget your first love, even if you’ve moved on.
I don’t hesitate to type out a response.
Me: Hey, Maria. It’s so good to hear from you. I hope you’re doing well. And yes, I’m getting married. It’s crazy that we’ve reached the age where getting married is normal. I guess this means we’re old now, huh? LOL. Anyway, I’m glad you messaged me. I’m thankful, too.
Phone back to the nightstand, I look down at a still-sleeping Charlotte and smile. I wrap my arm around her back and pull her closer to me. She’s warm and adorable, and her sexy little body feels like heaven pressed up against mine.
Fuck. This woman. She’s going to be my wife soon.
And I lie there just like that until her sleepy voice fills my ears ten or so minutes later.
“Rem?” she asks. “You awake?”
“Yeah, baby,” I say and lean down to press a kiss to her forehead.
“What time did you get in last night?”
“After five.”
“Oh boy.” She snorts and curls her body even closer to mine. “That’s late.”
“Tell me about it,” I respond on a half-chuckle.
“What did you guys end up doing anyway?” she questions and leans up on one elbow to meet my eyes. “I mean, I know a strip club and Taco Bell were involved, but what did you do after Jude called me?”
Instantly, memories of that fucking fortune-teller fill my head.
Her crazy-ass words about heartbreak repeating like a silent mantra.
“Uh…” I pause and search her eyes for a brief moment, for some reason completely unsure what I should tell her. Though, a second later, I make a snap decision. “We went to the lake house.”
That takes her aback. “You drove out to Greenwood Lake?”
I nod and force a smile to my lips. But on the inside, I’m wondering why in the hell I left out the whole fortune-teller part. It’s not like I actually believed that bullshit. So, why wouldn’t I just tell her the truth about it?