Page 129 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“Pretty much.”
Archie laughs. “I’m impressed, mate. You held it together. You’re a better man than I am, because if it were me in that position, I don’t think I would have taken too kindly to what he was saying.”
“I didn’t want to cause a scene, mainly for the both of you but also for Sloane.”
“That’s very dignified of you.” He picks up a biscuit and takes a bite. “If you want me to make sure they’re not dancing partners at the wedding, I can do that.”
“It would be much appreciated.”
Archie laughs. “Consider it done.”
“Have you ever played before?” Sheridan asks, handing Sloane a wooden mallet.
“Never.” Sloane lifts the mallet to examine it. “Why do I fear I’m going to hurt someone?”
“Why do I fear it’s going to be me?” I say as I lower her mallet below her waist. “Keep that thing there.”
Sheridan laughs and says, “There’s no reason to be hurting anyone if you’re doing it right.”
“Hear that?” I say to Sloane. “You don’t need to be hurting anyone if you’re doing it right.”
“I heard her,” Sloane says in a teasing tone.
I don’t want to jinx anything, but fuck, today has gone incredibly well. Archie and I bonded more than I thought we would, talking over business, the pressure of being the oldest sons; we even talked about Stanford and our college days. He opened up a little more about his dad, which brought us to Sheridan’s father and how he has been hard to navigate for Archie but Archie also values his opinion for the most part.
Archie explained some of the history of the Mayfair Club as he showed me around. I was interested in the philanthropic work that has become the main focus of the club. They didn’t want to exist only as a place for rich people to congregate; they wanted like-minded people with big hearts and open wallets to discuss the good they can do in the world.
It made me think of my father and how he so desperately wants to be a part of this club but how he doesn’t have the charitable heart to fit in.
Put a smile on my face for a moment, because this is something I have over him. This is something I can say I did not inherit from him but established on my own. Sure, I had to weasel my way into the club by marrying Sloane, but I know I will do good here.
I vow I will.
“Okay, the object is to get your ball through the hoops, or wickets. You start at the pole here.” She points to a stick in the ground. “And then you pass through hoops one and two, then over to three off to the right. We go in a W-shaped pattern until we get to the other pole, and that’s when we turn around. Every time you get a ball through the hoop, you get a bonus hit. If you hit an opponent’s ball, that’s also a bonus hit. First one to get through all the wickets and back to the starting pole, wins.”
“Seems simple enough,” Sloane says.
“I’ll start, then you can follow,” Sheridan says as she adjusts her straw hat and sets her purple ball down. She taps her ball through the starting hoop, then through the second, and then shoots it over to the third, where her turn ends. Archie does the same, following right behind, and I follow suit as well.
When it’s Sloane’s turn, she sets her yellow ball down and says, “Looks like this won’t be too hard.” She lines up her feet to shoulder width, adjusts her hands on the mallet, and winds back like she’s about to tee off at a par five.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I say attempting to stop her.
And from here, it’s unclear what happens. Not sure if she doesn’t hear me, doesn’t see me, doesn’t care…but as I approach, all I see is her downswing and my body merging right in the strike zone.
The world around me slows down as everything happens in what feels like minutes rather than seconds.
She downswings, and I leap to avoid being chopped in the ankles.
But it’s the wrong move because I lose my balance and somehow tumble on top of her.
We fall to the ground, limbs tangling, as a resounding rip sears what feels like a deafening silence.
The mallet winds up between our bodies, Sloane clearly loses all theair out of her lungs as she exhales from my large body flinging on top of her, and people around us gasp.
“What are you…doing?” Sloane muffles.
“Fuck, sorry,” I say as I start to get up but then feel a very cool breeze shoot right up my backside. Oh fuck, what’s that?
