Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Justin giggled his butt off as Gray used him as protection.
“Uncle Ryan, Daddy got me!” Justin laughed.
“You’re supposed to be on our side, you little clown.” Gray pushed up the boy’s shirt and blew a raspberry on his belly.
They almost ran down their photographer too, because why not? It seemed like the only thing missing.
To the sounds of Jayden, Ace, and Abby defending them against…well, a whole bunch of haters—but mainly Ryan, Abel, and the younger kids—the new married couple jogged off the pier and toward freedom.
CHAPTER TWELVE
This isn’t happening.
“Holy fuck.”
“It’s okay, Darius,” Elise assures me, but how fucking can it be?
I pace one side of the kitchen and eye the kids’ creations each time I pass the counter.
The other side of the kitchen is Sergio’s territory, and he’s busy as fuck clearing from the dinner service.
“In what universe is that okay?” I run a hand through my hair, just imagining the reactions…
Fuck.
I’d thought my idea was brilliant. Stuff the kids into the bar’s seating area, distract them with a buffet, all-you-can-eat ice cream, paper, and crayons, and…as part of my honeymoon reveal, cookie cutters and dough, provided by my pastry chef of a sister.
I’d ordered the damn cookie cutters. Elise had prepared the dough. And now…
Right before the grown-ups’ dessert is about to be served…
Turns out, when you make cookies shaped like the Eiffel Tower, they come out of the oven looking like puffy dicks.
Elise begins shoving the trays of cookies into the big freezer.
“What’re you doing?” I ask.
“The reveal’s gonna have to wait,” she answers frankly. “The dough needs to be refrigerated, Darius. It has to be cold.”
I come to a stop. “So if we get the other trays cooled off, they’ll actually resemble the Eiffel Tower?”
“Yes,” she promises. Next, she comes over and stares up at me, hands on her hips. “Repeat after me. Not today, Satan.”
What?
“That’s a you-and-Gray thing. You two say that sometimes.”
“And it works,” she replies. “Say it with me. Not. Today. Satan.”
Christ.
I release a breath and swallow against the dryness in my throat. “Not today, Satan.”
“Good job!” She beams up at me, half in snark. “We’ve got this. So one tray of cookies turned pornographic. We’re saving the rest. I swear.”
Okay. Okay.
I nod with a dip of my chin. “Not today, Satan.”
Now I gotta go talk to Chloe and Avery.
“I’m just gonna go check on the kids.”
“Nope. You’re not.” Abel put a hand on Gray’s shoulder and kept him seated. “I have clear instructions.”
Gray frowned. “I can’t even go see my—”
“That’s right.” Avery butted in from across the table. “They have plenty of babysitters over there.”
Gray huffed.
Darius was up to something. He’d been gone ten minutes now, and whenever someone exited the kitchen, like Elise or Mom or Avery, they went to someone else to whisper something.
The servers had cleared the tables, so Gray didn’t even have a napkin to fidget with. And he was too full to leave his seat.
If he wasn’t mistaken, and he freaking wasn’t, they’d hear some more speeches now. Smokers would go out and smoke, some parents were allowed to check in with their kids, and others went to the bathroom or visited people they knew at another table.
Each table seated five to eight people—actually, nine in Gray and Darius’s table’s case. It was them, their best men, and their spouses.
“I’m so stuffed I don’t think I could eat a fourth lobster tail,” Ryan announced, draping an arm around Angel’s shoulders. “’Cause you saw I got three, right?”
Gray chuckled tiredly.
The whole damn place knew Ryan had been served three lobster tails.
“You’re insufferable sometimes.” Angel narrowed her eyes at Ryan, who narrowed his eyes right back and rested their foreheads together.
“Only sometimes?”
“Every day and twice on Sundays, love.” Greg finished the last of his wine.
Gray and Abel laughed.
“Avery?” That was Mom, from the next table over. “I think you can make the announcement now.”
“Will do.” Avery nodded firmly and rose from his seat. Then he walked over to the corner stage where singer-songwriters sometimes performed for regular meal services.
Gray was looking forward to some answers. He loosened his tie and glanced around the restaurant. Darius was still MIA.
“If I may have your attention, everyone.” Avery spoke into the microphone. “As Darius loves to remind people, no plan survives the first contact with the enemy—and I’m here with a slight change in our schedule.” Right then, Darius came out from the kitchen, looking a little frazzled. “Dessert will be served after a rather short spin on the dance floor instead, so if you please, join me in welcoming Gray and Darius for their first dance as husbands.”
Darius stopped at their table and turned on the charm, extending a hand to Gray, who smiled in confusion but rolled with the punches.
“Is there something you wanna tell me?”
“Not at all,” Darius replied. He ushered Gray to their makeshift dance floor, big enough for maybe six or seven couples, and pulled him close just as another very familiar song started playing.