Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 89397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 447(@200wpm)___ 358(@250wpm)___ 298(@300wpm)
But it occurred to me all of a sudden that this might be the last time I got to be the person to hear his nighttime rambles, since he’d be rooming with Erin until death did them part, and the pain of that nearly took my breath away.
“Go to bed, Parker. Tomorrow’s a big day.”
My chatterbox friend closed his mouth again and nodded before shooting me a wide grin. “Just think, once all this wedding shit is over, I get a whole week of hot sex at a luxury resort in the Caribbean.”
I threw a pillow at his face. Fucker. The last thing I wanted to think about was him and Erin having a honeymoon fuckfest. And I didn’t much care for the implication he wanted the “wedding shit” over with like it was a burden rather than something to savor and appreciate.
I closed my eyes and forced myself to think of other things, like how well stocked my little Aster Valley cabin was for the week ahead. While Parker and Erin were enjoying the exciting—sexual—celebration of having their whole glorious life ahead of them, I would be wallowing in my wallow hole with plenty of hard liquor and ice cream, trying very hard to forget the perfect day I was going to make sure they had.
It was fine. I was fine. Their wedding day was going to be great.
And it was.
Until everything turned to complete and utter shit and I ended up punching my best friend in the face.
3
PARKER
I was thankful for whoever’s idea it had been to schedule an early morning run on the slopes. After a couple of hours of fresh air and fresher powder, I felt more relaxed and ready to meet Erin in front of our friends and family to say our vows. After all, wasn’t marriage basically saying you wanted someone to be in your life forever? I wanted that with Erin, no doubt about it.
Julian, Hazel, and their dad had seemed to enjoy the morning as much as Rod and I had. A couple of my ski patrol buddies had blocked off a double black diamond run for us, and we spent a ton of time racing each other down the slope without having to worry about accidentally knocking anyone else over.
Hazel and Julian had both been skiing since they were practically toddlers, and growing up with money in Denver meant they’d had access to the best equipment and instructors money could buy, as well as having plenty of time on the slopes to improve. They were talented skiers. Rod had been my high school ski coach, something he still did out of passion for the sport, and his mentorship had turned my passion on the slopes into a college path and career. Being out on the slopes with him was always a good time.
After finishing the runs, we had lunch at the lodge halfway up the mountain before skiing the rest of the way down and making our way back to the resort.
We went our separate ways to shower and get dressed. The photographer had scheduled groomsmen photos as early as midafternoon, with my solo shots first up. Julian, Sam, Tiller, and two of my closest work friends would join us about half an hour later by the covered bridge for some outside group shots.
When I finished putting together all of the various pieces of the tux Erin had arranged for me, I glanced in the dressing mirror in my hotel room. I felt awkward and uncomfortable. There had been several times in my history with Erin’s and Julian’s families when I’d had to wear a monkey suit for various reasons, but I’d always felt like an imposter. This was no different. It wasn’t that the fabric wasn’t nice or the fit was wrong. Those things were perfect. Erin had selected the best of everything. It just… didn’t feel like me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. This was for Erin. For our future. To make memories we’d always be able to look back on. After tonight, I could change into my usual worn-in jeans and hoodie before boarding the plane to the islands and changing into board shorts and a tee. Perfect.
As soon as I turned to open my hotel room door, I saw the note.
It looked tiny on the carpet—a little cream envelope like a thank-you note or maybe a Valentine. I picked it up and recognized Erin’s handwriting. I couldn’t help but smile. Despite wanting a Valentine’s Day wedding, Erin wasn’t usually inclined to sentimental gestures, and I didn’t expect them, which made it extra special that she’d taken the time to write me a note on our wedding day.
I let out another breath and knew everything was going to be okay. She was such a sweetheart and the woman I was closest to in the world.