and checked his eyeballs.
“What are you doing?” he grumbled, pushing me away.
“Making sure you’re not high. All that strong will you have most of the time and it suddenly snaps under stress—I’ve seen it happen.”
“Don’t be an idiot if you can possibly help it,” he said in irritation. “You know I don’t take anything stronger than caffeine. And I’m not stressed.”
“Really? I would be. You know, about to stand up in front of 150 people and declare undying love to one woman for the rest of your life, even knowing she’ll get wrinkled and old and saggy in a few years. And Cady is…”
“Finish that sentence and I’ll toss you out of the window,” he said, his eyes glinting in a way that made me think he was serious.
“Right,” I grinned quickly so he’d think I was joking.
I wasn’t. But he didn’t need to know that. Rick’s temper was almost non-existent but I’d noticed that he got rather shirty if it was anything to do with Cady, going all caveman, without the wooden club or the pet Saber Tooth.
I dumped my sports bag on the table, narrowly missing the florist’s box containing the boutonnières, and pulled out a bottle of Jack, then looked around for Rick’s dad.
“Where’s your old man?”
“He just left. I think he’s a bit jet lagged and he wanted to take a nap before Mum gets back. She’s with Cady, Rachel and Grace.
“Fair enough,” I said, brandishing the Jack. “One for the road, buddy?”
Rick grabbed the bottle and took a long pull, looking significantly more relaxed as Tennessee whiskey hit the spot.
“Thanks,” he said, passing the bottle back to me. “I needed that,” and he sighed.
“Everything alright?” I asked carefully, not wanting to be dangled from the 35th floor, even if the view was fantastic.
“Yeah, yeah, of course. It’s just … I want to marry Cady, but all of this,” and he waved his arms around at the very nice hotel suite with kitchenette and balcony, the wedding suits hanging in Armani garment bags, and the Tiffany boxes containing the wedding rings. “I don’t like crowds,” he finished lamely.
I finally realized what the real duty of the best man was: help the groom find his balls.
“Mate, what’s the biggest crowd you ever played in front of when you were playing professional rugby?”
He squinted at me as I took a long slug before handing over the bottle of Jack again.
“Um, 16,500 at Gloucester, I think. Why?”
“And you’re worried about standing in front of a poxy 150 people? Honestly, mate, when Cady is in the room, you never notice anyone else anyway. I can be standing there talking to you, certain my lips are moving, but you’re just staring at her like you’ve been zombified. Without the peeling skin, but definitely with the drool.”
Rick blinked then gave a faint smile. “Zombified?”
I shoved the bottle of Jack toward him again, nodding as I watched him swallow a third of the bottle in one long gulp.
He handed it back to me, his eyes slightly crossed and a soppy smile on his face.
My job was done.
“Right, let’s get the suits on and show the women of New York what they’ll have to go on missing now we’re both off the market,” I said.
“You’re really into Grace?” he asked, frowning slightly.
“Hook, line and sinker. She’s the woman for me.”
His eyebrows inched upward. “Are you … dating?”
“I haven’t shagged her yet, if that’s what you mean by dating, but it’s inevitable at some point. She can’t resist my charms forever.”
“Sure about that?” he grimaced.
“Mate! You wound me!” I chuckled.
“And then what?” Rick asked, folding his arms across his chest as his gaze narrowed.
“Then we get hitched, and ride off into the sunset with Tap, Tyson and Zeus.”
His mouth dropped open and he gave me a weird look. “You want to marry her?”
“Yep,” I grinned.
“Um, not wanting to rain on your parade, but does Grace know this?”
I nodded. “She’s been fairly warned.”
Rick scratched his head. “Eh, that’s not quite the same as getting down on one knee and promising to love her forever.”
“Is that what you did?” I asked, eyeing him curiously while I pulled out my phone and opened the Notes app.
He sighed. “Vin, mate, you don’t tell a woman to marry you; you have to ask them. Beg if you have to.”
I nodded, tapping his advice into my phone.
“Right, gotcha. Ask her first … one knee … then shag her. Yeah?”
He pulled a face and reached for the bottle of Jack. “Close enough.”
Then