Total pages in book: 177
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 169272 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 846(@200wpm)___ 677(@250wpm)___ 564(@300wpm)
I frown. “I already did that at Jonas and Sarah’s wedding and had to pivot in abject humiliation at the last minute. If I did that again, would it come off like a cute call-back, only with completion this time, or like I’m a loser who’s only capable of pulling off one proposal idea?”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Josh asks, which makes me remember he and Kat weren’t anywhere nearby when I drunkenly kneeled before Hannah at his brother’s wedding. Quickly, I explain everything to Josh, with Reed piping in to tell his version of events here and there. And when Reed and I are done telling our tale, Josh says he thinks Kat’s idea is still a good one.
Josh reasons, “Who better to catch Kat’s bouquet, than the woman who’s about to get engaged a minute later? That’s the only person who’d make any sense.”
I consider the situation and finally say, “Okay, tell Kat all systems go on the bouquet toss. But I won’t propose to Hannah in front of everyone on the dance floor this time. After she catches the bouquet, I’ll take her outside onto the beach, straight to a telescope I’ll have arranged in advance, and I’ll do it there.”
“Why do you need a telescope?” Reed asks, so I explain the gift I’ve been wanting to give Hannah since our first week together.
“I’m texting T-Rod now,” Josh says, tapping on his phone. “Asking her to get a telescope set up for you.”
“Thanks so much. Tell T-Rod thanks from me.”
“Doing it now.”
Reed asks, “Do you want some company when you shop for the ring tomorrow morning, Henny?”
“Absolutely. Thanks.”
Josh smirks at Reed. “What do you know about engagement rings?”
“Not a fucking thing, thank God,” Reed replies with a wicked grin. “But I bet I’m still better at choosing one than Henn.”
“Indubitably,” I say. “You’re hired.”
Josh slides two martinis across the bar and picks one up for himself. “Cheers, fellas. Sounds like tomorrow is going to be a fucking awesome day for more reasons than one.”
36
HENN
“Hey, Uncle William, will you tie Henn’s bowtie?” Josh asks. “I’d do it, but I’m so nervous my fingers won’t function.”
Uncle William laughs. “Sure thing. Come here, Peter.”
“If this bowtie were a motherboard,” I say, “I swear it’d be my bitch.”
“It’s hard to tie a bowtie,” Uncle William assures me. “Much harder than it looks.”
I smirk at Reed, who was making fun of my incompetence earlier. “See, Reed? It’s not me that’s the problem—it’s the bowtie.”
Reed laughs. “Keep telling yourself that, man.”
“All the chairs are filled,” Jonas murmurs. He’s peeking out a crack in the bungalow door toward the beach. “Everyone looks really excited.”
“Gah. Don’t tell me that,” Josh says. “I’m nervous enough already.”
You want to talk about a guy being nervous? That’s what I’m thinking as I touch the ring box in my pocket for the twentieth time. But, obviously, I know better than to say it out loud. This is Josh’s big day, not mine. At least, until after that bouquet toss later tonight. Right now, Josh’s nerves are the only ones that matter.
“What do you have to be nervous about, Faraday?” Reed says. “You’re marrying the greatest girl, ever.”
“Which is exactly why I’m nervous. I don’t wanna fuck this up for her.”
Exactly, I think, running my fingers across the square-shaped bulge in my pocket again. I’m not worried Hannah will reject me tonight, since, thankfully, she’s explicitly told me she’ll say yes. No, the source of my nerves is wanting the proposal to be everything Hannah wants it to be, especially after the debacle at Jonas and Sarah’s wedding.
“Hey, Jonas,” Josh calls to his brother at the door. “Were you nervous right before you went out to marry Sarah?”
Jonas shuts the door. “Oh, yeah, I was shitting.” He strides toward the group, twirling the wedding band on his finger as he walks. “I wasn’t nervous about getting married—I was just freaking out I was gonna fuck up my vows.”
“Exactly,” Josh says. “What if I spontaneously start spewing gibberish up there? Or pass out? Or worst-case scenario, what if I spontaneously shart in front of everyone?”
Everyone bursts out laughing, except for Uncle William who looks deeply confused.
“What’s sharting?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
I put my hand on the old man’s shoulder. “It’s when you think you’re gonna fart, but you unexpectedly shit instead.”
Uncle William cracks up and shakes his head. “Joshua.”
“Well, let’s look at this logically,” Reed says. “When was the last time you sharted?”
“Hmm,” Josh says. “Maybe when I was ten?”
“Okay, then, realistically, the odds are extremely low it will happen within the next thirty minutes for the first time in twenty years.”
“God willing,” Josh murmurs.
“Unless, of course, it’s been so long, you’re now statistically overdue,” I chime in to say, as Uncle William continues working his magic on my bowtie.