Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 380(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
A bit later, Allie’s getting ready for bed while I dress for the big event. “Tucker still has no idea what’s going on?” she asks, pulling her hair into a short ponytail.
“No clue,” I confirm. “I can’t wait to see his face.”
“Make sure you film it.”
“Obvs.” I zip up my jeans, then start buttoning my long-sleeve shirt. “You gonna wait up for me?”
“Depends. When are you gonna be back tonight?”
“Two? Three?”
“Then not a chance. We’ve got the bachelorette at like, eleven in the morning tomorrow.”
“That early?”
“Yeah. We booked the tearoom at the Taj.”
“Tea?” This is the first I’m hearing of it. I knew the girls were doing something for Sabrina at a fancy hotel, but I assumed it was a spa thing.
“Yeah, Jamie saw Alice in Wonderland for the first time last month,” Allie explains. “The cartoon version. So now she’s obsessed with tea parties. And since Sabrina said she didn’t want to do a late-night thing and look all puffy on her wedding day, we decided to do something low-key and bring the kidlet.”
“Jesus. We’re talking bachelor and bachelorette parties and nobody is seeing a fucking stripper?” I gripe. “And you’re bringing a child? This is a travesty.”
“Hey, no one stopped you guys from getting a stripper,” she reminds me. “You’re the one who decided to make it a sausage party.”
“Yeah, and I thought you would compensate for that, not make yours a vagina party!” I give her a magnanimous smile. “It’s not too late to change your plans. Go nuts, baby doll. Fondle some packages in sweaty Speedos.”
Allie makes a gagging noise. “That is honestly the most unappealing thing I’ve ever heard. Hard pass.”
I snicker. “Fine. Whatever. If a tea party is what Sabrina wants, who are we to deny her that? Jamie will love it, anyway.”
“God, that kid is so cute. Sabrina sends daily pics to our girls’ group chat and each one is cuter than the last.”
“Trust me, I know. Tuck sends at least one a day.”
She laughs as she slips into her pajama top. It’s one of my old Briar Hockey T-shirts, soft and worn and hanging down to her knees. “He is such a dad.”
“For real. You should see our group chat. All Tuck does is extol the virtues of dadhood. He thinks all of us should knock up all of you and just pop out kids all over the place.”
“Lovely image. How’s that going for him? Has he converted anyone yet?”
“Nah. Garrett is all about hockey right now. And I don’t know if Logan and Grace even want kids. I guess you and I will have to take up the mantle.”
Rolling her eyes, Allie climbs onto the queen-sized guest bed. “Tuck can keep the mantle for now. Kids are the last thing on my mind at the moment.”
“Hey, I didn’t say it would be soon,” I say with a chuckle. “I’m well aware there’re a few steps that come before that.”
First and foremost, an engagement.
Anticipation bubbles in my gut, and I hope my expression doesn’t reveal it. This weekend is about Tucker and Sabrina. But the moment we get back to New York, I’m wasting no time sliding that ring on Allie’s finger.
14
Dean
It’s past midnight and we’re in the back of the limo. Just the four of us, because Tucker still believes this is going to be a small affair. For the past ten minutes he’s been complaining that we “wasted money” getting a limousine, which he views as an “extravagance” for four people. Eventually Garrett has to shove a glass of champagne in his hand and say, “Oh my God, chill, we didn’t even pay for it. I asked the franchise and they arranged it.”
Tucker stares at him. “You just asked for a limo and they gave you one?”
Logan snorts. “Do you know who this guy is?” He jerks a thumb at Garrett. “That’s Garrett Graham, dude.”
I start to laugh.
“Right, I forgot,” Tuck says, laughing too. “So, are you finally gonna tell me where we’re going or what? I’m assuming some sort of strip club, but…”
“Even better,” Garrett promises.
Like the bosses we are, we sip champagne and lounge in the back of the limo while the city whizzes past us. I imagine onlookers seeing us drive by and wondering who’s inside. Boston’s a hockey town, so girls and guys alike would probably lose their minds if they knew Garrett Graham and John Logan were behind these tinted windows.
“Yo, top me off,” I say, holding out my glass.
Logan leans over and pours some more bubbly into it.
“We should be there soon,” Garrett tells Tuck. He looks like he’s trying not to grin.
I’m also fighting my excitement. This surprise is next-level awesome. It took a lot of coordination and string-pulling, but miraculously we were able to make it happen.
“Oh, okay. Then before we get there,” Tuck starts, shifting in his seat so he’s facing me, “I need to talk to you about something.”