Game Changer by Kelly Jamieson Page 0,1

a helluva lot better at picking someone to have a fun evening with.

I know it’s a dick move, but instead of going straight home, I stop by the Irish pub where I know my buddies Heart, Rico and Gander are having beers. Just for one. I really do have a meeting with Paul in the morning.

“Hey! Jax!” they all great me as I approach the table.

“Hey.” I pull out a wooden chair and drop into it. “How’s it going?”

“Excellent. Where’s your hot date?”

“Just dropped her off at home.” I grimace and shove a hand through my hair.

They all make a low sound of understanding.

“Welp, have a beer,” Rico says, lifting a hand to attract the waitress’s attention. She speeds over with a big smile, and I order a Goose Island Belgian Ale.

The White Sox are playing the Royals on the big screen TV I’m facing. I check out the score—White Sox leading five-three.

“Ready for the wedding this weekend?” Heart asks. His name is Brian Erhardt, but we call him Heart or Hearts.

We all groan.

“I’d rather stay home with a case of beer, a bag of Doritos and the remote control in my hand,” Rico says.

“I’d rather rotate my tires,” Gander says.

We all laugh.

Rico sighs. “Flowers, decorations, finger foods, frilly female clothing, missing sports on Saturday afternoon. So much fun.”

“Women love weddings,” I say. “This girl I was out with tonight was trying to get me to bring her as my date.”

“Jesus. She doesn’t even know Chucky and Molly.”

“I know.” I shrug. “I don’t get it.”

“She’d get to buy a new dress and shoes and cry during the ceremony,” Rico says.

“We’re so cynical.”

“Yep.”

“If men planned weddings…” I rub my chin. “They’d be different.”

“Oh hell yeah! We’d wear sweats and our old T-shirts and sneakers.”

“Serve beers and pizza,” I add.

“We’d crack open cold ones as soon as the minister pronounces them husband and wife,” Rico says.

“We’d walk down the aisle to Led Zeppelin,” I add, grinning. “ ‘All My Love!’ ”

“Yeah! Perfect!” Rico and I bump fists.

“And the reception would be a big party with beer pong and boat racing.” I lift my ale in a toast as we all guffaw in delight at planning our dream wedding. “No speeches,” I add.

“Hell, no.”

“Somehow I don’t think that’s what’s happening this weekend,” Rico says with a sigh.

“Nope. But you know, Molly’s pretty down to earth. It probably won’t be crazy over the top with doves flying around and fireworks and a rose petal cannon.” I nod.

“Rose petal cannon? Is that a real thing?” Rico’s mouth hangs open.

“Yeah, I went to a wedding last summer that had that.”

“Jesus. But, yeah, I agree, that’s not Molly’s style.”

Molly Flynn, the fiancée of our teammate Chucky, is a sweetheart. She and Chucky have been dating for a couple of years so we’ve all gotten to know her pretty well. I feel like I know her better than most, because we discovered a mutual love of trivia one night at a bar. We ended up on the same team, and we were goddamn unbeatable. She’s a schoolteacher, so she’s smart and she knows a lot, as do I, so we started going to trivia nights together since Chucky hates it.

“I trust there will be no crapping doves,” I say again. “To Molly.” I lift my beer, and we all toast the bride even though we all want to go to this wedding as much as we want to have our butt cracks waxed.

2

Molly

I am seriously going to vomit.

All over this gorgeous dress that cost me a fucking fortune.

I’m standing in the Metropolitan, on the sixty-seventh floor of the Sears Tower. Well, Willis Tower, but I don’t know anyone who calls it that.

I’m in a curtained-off area behind guests seated in rows facing the big windows at the far end of the room. A pale runner lines the patterned carpet up the middle of the rows of chairs, candles and flowers bordering the runner.

My mom and dad are with me, their faces lined with concern.

“Are you okay, honey?” Mom whispers to me.

“Fine.” I grit my teeth and straighten my shoulders.

Music wafts from the front of the room, the songs I carefully chose months ago for this occasion. Right now, it’s “Don’t Stop Believin’ ” played by Vitamin String Quartet.

Yeah, I stopped believin’ last night.

I press a hand to my stomach. I can do this.

Steve’s best man, James, appears, ready to take Mom down the aisle. She gives me a shaky smile and a kiss on the cheek, then takes James’