Page 43 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“No, you fucking didn’t,” he says.
I slowly nod. “I did.”
He leans back in his seat, his hands resting in his lap, looking…defeated. “Well.” He nods, staring off into space. “It was nice knowing you, Hudson. You’ve been a good big brother. For a moment, I thought it might be a heart attack that kills you because, well, you know, Dad and all. But no, it’s going to be our brother-in-law.”
I want to say he’s overreacting, but I know he’s not.
He’s right.
Then he leans forward again and whispers, “She’s like twenty years younger than you, you fucking pervert.”
“She’s thirteen years younger.”
“Oh yeah, much better,” he scoffs.
“Twenty years would make her fucking illegal, nimrod.”
He starts to slowly clap. “Glad you did the math to make sure she was legal.”
“Hey, she’s the same fucking age as Everly.”
“Yeah, but I’m younger than you, so should I do another round of clapping?”
“Can you not?” I shoot back. “I’m, I’m fucking struggling here.”
“I can’t believe you married Sloane. And here I was, bitching about flamingos and pigeons, and you’re just sitting there with that goddamn ring on your finger. Jesus Christ, that should have been the first thing you said to me when we sat down.”
“I was working up the courage.”
“Because you know what you did was wrong.”
“Of course I know that,” I answer.
“Then why the hell would you marry her? Are you two in love? Jesus, have you been fucking this whole time? You were giving me grief about Everly, and there you are, in a secret relationship with your assistant, our brother-in-law’s sister. The fucking hypocrisy.”
“We were not in a secret relationship.”
“Okay, sure, yeah, so you just got married?”
“Yes,” I answer.
“Stop fucking with me. There’s no way you would get married unless you were in a—” He pauses and tilts his head to the side, his mind working. Slowly, it hits him. “No.” I glance down at my lap. “Hudson. Please, for the love of fuck, don’t tell me.”
He knows.
“Don’t tell you what?” I say, still looking at my lap because I feel so fucking ashamed.
Speaking quietly, he says, “Did you marry her to get into that fucking club?”
I blow out a heavy breath and say, “It was her idea.”
“Holy…fuck.” He leans back in his chair, hand to his forehead. “You’re…you’re dead. You are so fucking dead. You realize how bad this is, right? Like how incredibly bad this is.”
“Yes, I know.”
“And you still went through with it. I mean, did you? Well, clearly you did,” Hardy says, his voice growing hysterical. “You’re wearing the goddamn ring—unless you’re just trying it on for size to see how you like it. Please tell me that’s the case. Are you just playing pretend right now?”
I look up at my brother and level with him. “Sloane is my wife.”
