A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,70
brother in for a hug. “Having fun yet?”
“I can’t wait to never go out without my wife again. Or just to never go out again.”
“Sounds good.” Sounds really good. I am not going to cry.
“Sorry, is it weird for you when I call your ex-girlfriend my wife?” he asks with a smirk.
“Naw. Is it weird for you when she screams my name out during sex?”
“Oooh, touché.”
Touché. Brady is the only person in my entire family who would ever use that word, and I love him for it.
I catch Billy pulling snacks out of the minibar. “Hey. Don’t touch those.”
“Aww, come on. I’m starvin’!”
“There’s supposed to be food in the party bus—I Venmo’d Aiden money for it.”
“Naw, we spent it on lickah instead. Tell you what—you finish that can of Guinness before we leave this room, and I won’t touch your mini bar.”
“Fuck off. You can pick one snack.” I hold up a finger for emphasis, like I’m talking to a child. “One.”
Brady lowers his voice and says, “So, Casey just texted me that Maddie isn’t coming, and she was just pretending to be your girlfriend? What’s going on? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m okay. Don’t even worry about me—this is your day to relax and have fun.”
“You sure? If you want to talk about it…”
I’m actually dying to talk about it. It is literally the only thing I want to talk about all of a sudden, because it’s all I want to think about. But my brother looks so concerned, and it’s his bachelor party day, and I’m not that self-absorbed and miserable. Yet.
I crack open the can of Guinness. “I’m sure.” I raise the can to him. “May the best day of your past be the worst day of your future.”
After guzzling about half of it, I let him take it from me so he can toast me with: “May your heart be light and happy, may your smile be big and wide. May we survive this feckin’ shit so that I can claim my bride.”
After both of my cousins have finally finished polluting my luxury bathroom, I’m a little buzzed and stepping inside the luxury party bus that is basically a cheesy bachelor pad on wheels. It is in no way as funny to me as the cheesy stretch limo that Maddie got for us, because my older brother did not order it ironically.
Around the navy blue leather perimeter seating are my oldest brother Aiden, youngest brother Eddie, Casey’s husband, Billy’s married brother Mark, and the married Irish cousins, Sean and Fergal. Everyone else is dressed more casually than I am, as usual. I greet everyone, and Nolan places another unopened can of Guinness in all of our hands.
“To the brewery and then the casino!” Billy yells out after chatting with the driver.
“I thought we’re going to Dave & Buster’s first,” I say, looking at Aiden and Brady.
Aiden stares down at the floor meekly and takes a sip of beer.
“Nawww! Fuck that kiddie shit—what are we, twelve? Change of plans. We’re havin’ some actual fun instead. Drink up, Manhattan.”
This is bullshit.
I nudge Brady, who’s sitting beside me and texting Hannah. “You okay with this?”
He shrugs. “Doesn’t really matter where we go. We’re all going to end up hammered and facedown in the gutter by about five o’clock at this rate. Maybe if we pass out early, we’ll wake up tomorrow sooner.”
I muss up his hair. “Such an optimist.” I pull out my phone and open up the text app.
Eddie plops down beside me. “Hey. I hear Maddie was just a fake girlfriend. Can I have her number?”
“I will actually murder you if you try anything,” I mutter without even looking at him.
“I’m kidding—obviously. I have a girlfriend.”
“Yeah. You meet her in person yet?”
“No, she goes to St. Bart’s for New Year’s every year with her friends. That’s why she couldn’t make it to the wedding.”
“Uh-huh. And was your friend Birdie also not available to be your date?”
He laughs. “She would never go as my date to anything in a billion years. That’s hilarious.”
“Sucks to be you, huh?”
I finally type out the text to Maddie, impressed with how concise and eloquent I am, even after about fourteen ounces of dry stout. I hit Send as soon as I feel Nolan’s Black Irish eyes on me from the back of the bus and put the phone back in my pocket.
I’m not scared of that fucker, but ever since I was a kid, I’ve felt the need to impress that guy. And