That Wedding: A Small Town, Friends-to-Lovers Romance (That Boy Series Book 2)

We eventually have to leave the cozy cocoon of our hotel suite and get back to reality. Reality starts with our usual Sunday night dinner at the Mackenzie house. I’ve been to many Sunday night dinners there. I grew up next door to them, and Mr. Mac and my dad were fraternity brothers and best friends. I’ve always been close to them, but when my parents were killed in a car accident my senior year of high school, they pretty much made me one of their own. I don’t know what I would’ve done without them or the Diamonds.

Still, I’m nervous for dinner.

I’m officially going to marry their son, and I know it sounds odd, but I feel like I need to make a good impression. So, I put on a pair of dark jeans, a new flouncy pale peach top with rosettes at the neck, and a pair of silver heels.

I look romantic and happy.

Now, I see why Lori started trying to set me up with Phillip as soon as she got engaged to Danny. She felt all sparkly, gooey, and magical, and she wanted her friends to feel that way, too.

I get it now.

I feel pretty sparkly, and I cannot stop looking at the sparkle on my finger during the drive over.

But, when we get there, Mrs. Mac doesn’t seem to notice my sparkle, how I’m dressed, or how Phillip keeps being quite naughty and running his hand dangerously high up my thigh under the kitchen table.

No.

Mrs. Mac is focused on one thing.

Which is good because I can’t seem to focus on anything other than the fact that, if Phillip doesn’t stop it, I’m going to drag him up to his bedroom and show him exactly how I feel about him.

Oh, sorry, where was I?

Oh, yes, I was saying, Mrs. Mac is focused on one thing.

And that thing is wedding planning.

Seriously? We’ve been engaged for, what? Twenty-two hours! And she’s ready to start planning?

I mean, I’m still in shock that I’m even dating Phillip, let alone engaged to the boy.

Isn’t there some kind of engagement buffer? Where you get a few days, weeks, months to get used to the idea before people start bombarding you with questions about an event you’re totally not mentally prepared to deal with?

The answer to that question is apparently not because she’s already prepared a wedding spreadsheet of some kind. Not surprising really since she probably has to make a spreadsheet before she can do laundry to make sure she does it in the proper order. To say this woman is organized is a supreme understatement.

She hands it to me, and I scan it.

Looks pretty typical. Once we figure out when we want to get married, then we’ll be happy to use her list and start planning.

But I’m not in any hurry to get married.

We need to date for a while first.

Ashley, Phillip’s sister, says, “So, JJ, I would recommend you start by picking a theme and your colors.”

“A theme?” What is this, a frat party? “What kind of wedding theme?”

“Oh, wow,” she says. “There are so many things you could do. You could have it black tie, casual, country, or beachy. Fairy-tale weddings are big right now. You could do, like, a fall wedding or even a Halloween wedding!”

“A Halloween wedding! Like a black-and-orange wedding? How fun would that be? We could have people dress up and hand out candy!” I laugh. Ha! “Phillip, did you hear that? We could get married on Halloween! We could just have people ring the doorbell and stand outside, and we could get married in the entryway. We could be all dressed up and then go out and get candy for our reception! Our favors could be dozens of eggs, forks, Fruity Pebbles, and toilet paper!”

“PHILLIP DAVID Mackenzie!” Mrs. Mac yells. She squints her eyes and gives him the mom glare. “You told me you had nothing to do with the Robertsons’ house that Halloween.”

“What Halloween?” he asks innocently.

“The year their whole sidewalk was covered in Fruity Pebbles. Then, it rained, and the color stained their sidewalk. We thought it was never going to come off! You swore to me that you had nothing to do with it!”

Phillip scrunches up his nose and laughs. “What are you gonna do, Mom? Ground me? Besides, I was in charge of the forks, not the Fruity Pebbles.” He gives me a pointed grin, so his mom will think it was my idea.

“Jadyn!” Mrs. Mac scolds.

“Uh, so maybe a Halloween-themed wedding is a bad idea,” I say, quickly switching the conversation back to something that won’t get us in trouble.

Besides, the Fruity Pebbles was all Danny’s idea, but we won’t mention that. Knowing Mrs. Mac, she’d be calling his mom.

Ashley continues, “Well, you could do winter wonderland or, like, a down-home country-style wedding. Some people even have Nebraska-themed weddings. You both love football; maybe you should do something like that.”

“I do love football, but I don’t think I’d want that for my wedding.”

“So, what do you want?” Phillip’s mom asks.

“I have no idea. I got surprise engaged on my first date less than twenty-four hours ago. I really haven’t gotten that far yet.” They both stare at me like I’m nuts, so I’m like, “Phillip, what kind of wedding do you want?”

“Um …” he says eloquently. “I don’t know. The kind that involves us getting married?”

Mrs. Mac and Ashley both roll their eyes at him in that he’s just a man; what could he possibly know way.

“JJ, have you seriously never pictured your wedding? Every little girl dreams of her wedding day,” Ashley admonishes.

Gee, apparently, I’m a failure as a girl.

All I ever dreamed about was marrying a prince, but that was really as far as I got. To me, it was all about finding the right boy. I guess I sorta thought, once you found the guy, the wedding would just fall into place.

I mean, think of Cinderella. The whole story was about her and Prince Charming’s courtship. It’s only at the very end that the wedding bells ring, birds fly, and they kiss. No one asked Cinderella what kind of themed wedding she wanted. The wedding just happened.

Didn’t it?

I know most of my sorority sisters have planned out their ideal weddings. I listened, thought they sounded amazing, and encouraged them. But my wedding seemed so far off that I never really thought about what I’d want. Plus, you have to remember, my two best friends are Phillip and Danny.

Boys.

I can tell you with all certainty that they never once stood around the pool table, planning their dream weddings. The only real discussions we ever had about weddings involved Danny praying some girl wasn’t pregnant, so he wouldn’t have to marry her.

“Uh,” I say, “honestly, not really. We used to have weddings for Barbie and Ken, but those mostly involved a wedding in front of Phillip’s Lego castle. They’d drive off in her Barbie Jeep and then have a Barbie baby. And, sometimes, they would go on a honeymoon to the blow-up Barbie pool where they would kiss, swim, and get their hair wet. Oh!” I giggle. “And, sometimes, instead of Ken, she would marry G.I. Joe.”

“Bigamy Barbie,” Phillip quips as he sets a beer down in front of me.

“That’s true, but you loved when she married Joe. You’d make him jump out of a plane or rappel down the wall, and then they’d get married. Joe always made a big entrance. It was all very exciting. Ken was sort of boring, but he was there for her when Joe went off to, I don’t know, fight in wars and stuff.”

Phillip laughs.

I can’t help but laugh, too. We had so much fun when we were kids. “She also married Robin Hood. So, she was more like Trigamy Barbie,” I tell Phillip.

“Trigamy?” Ash questions.

“Uh, maybe trigonometry?” I stupidly say.

“Oh my gosh.” Phillip chuckles. “Are you both blonde or what?”

“Well then, what would it be called?”

“Polygamy.”

“No, that’s when you have many spouses. What’s it called when you have just three, like Barbie did? It would have to be trigamy. Really, that’s kind of a good idea. Like, I could marry Ken because he was pretty and would provide a good gene pool for kids. Then, there’s G.I. Joe. He’d, like, show up whenever, you’d have wild sex with him, and then he’d be off again on some mission. And Robin Hood would take you on adventures. I think Barbie was on to something. She really did have the perfect life.”

“Except when she got pregnant and didn’t know if it was Ken or Joe’s baby,” Ash says sarcastically.

“Like Barbie would’ve had a big dilemma over that one. You know she would’ve just told Ken it was his baby. He wouldn’t have known the difference. Ken looked good, but I don’t think he was all that smart. But he’d be a good dad and stay home and take care of the kids while she was off with Joe or Robin.” That’s not a bad idea. “Hey, Phillip, can I have three husbands, too?”

“Hmm, I don’t think so.” He grins and shakes his head.

Ashley rolls her eyes. “So, are you saying you want a Barbie-themed wedding?”

Uh, no. I might not know much, but I do know a hot-pink Barbie wedding is not for me.

It seems the theme of tonight’s dinner is for us to pick a theme. I swear, if they don’t lay off, pretty soon, my theme is gonna be I don’t give a damn.

Thank God the oven buzzer goes off, meaning we finally get to eat. And here’s what I want to know: why aren’t they asking Phillip these questions? He’s the one who was so bound and determined to get engaged. I just want to have fun sleeping with him for a while.

Mrs. Mac falls back a little during dinner, but apparently, it’s not a full retreat because, after dinner, she sits us down in front of apple pie and questions us.

I told you before that she feeds you and gets you to spill your guts. That woman is sneaky.

Phillip’s as clueless as I am on the whole theme thing, so he tells his mom, “I have no freaking idea.” Then, he ditches me and takes his pie into the family room to watch football with his dad and Ash’s husband, Cooper.

But Mrs. Mac will not be deterred. She gets up and grabs a large stack of the thickest magazines known to man.

Bridal magazines.

They practically break through the wooden table when she slams the stack down in front of me. Thankfully, I got my hands out of the way.

“I went through and marked everything I like in yellow,” she tells me.

“And I marked everything I like in blue,” Ashley adds.

When did these people find time to go through these monstrosities? If I tried to sit on the couch at home and flip through these, I’d make it all of about twelve pages before Phillip attacked me. Sex has been taking up a lot of our time lately.

Mrs. Mac continues in her sweet, if you do this for me, I will bake you cookies voice. “So, just flip through all the magazines and mark stuff you like. Then, we’ll help you figure out a theme. So, what are you thinking for a date?”

“We haven’t discussed dates yet, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to have a very long engagement. Like, maybe a couple of years. We really don’t need to start planning yet.”

She gives me a little sigh. I see my opportunity to get away, so I grab the magazines and go sit in the family room. She’s still staring at me, so I pretend to look interested and flip through a few pages. But, really, I’m looking at Phillip, who’s sitting in his favorite chair, finishing his second piece of pie. He looks so adorable that I almost wish I had two of him.

That reminds me …

I grab my phone and look up the word trigamy. And I’m right! There is a word that means married to three people.

I glance over to Phillip and say, “It’s trigamous.”

“Cool,” he says, not really listening because he’s very into the game and his pie. He practically licks the plate and then turns to me with a grin. “So, you were wrong?”

“I was closer to right than you were. That’s all I care about.” I give him a sassy little smile.

He grabs me off the couch, pulls me onto his lap, and starts kissing me.

Why is it kinda funny that this boy, who managed to keep his hands off me for years, cannot seem to control those hands anymore? I’m a little embarrassed by this. We’re in the middle of his family room, and everyone can see us! I cut the kiss short, but he won’t let me get off his lap, so I get cozy, watch the game, and forget all about wedding planning.

My cell buzzes on the side table.

Phillip grabs it, says, “Danny,” and hands me it.

“Hey, what’s up?”

“How about, tomorrow will be my first start as a freaking pro quarterback? Can you believe it?”

One of the first things Danny told me when he moved next door in fifth grade was that he was a great quarterback. I remember telling him he was a bragger. He told me that he wasn’t bragging; he was just confident in his skills. Turns out, he was right about that since he went on to be a state champion in high school, got recruited to play for Nebraska, won the national championship his senior year, came in second in the Heisman race, and won every quarterback award there was. He went on to be the second pick in the draft.

Last week, the starting quarterback got a concussion, so Danny finished the game. With his blond hair, dreamy blue eyes, killer body, and good-old-boy attitude, he’s also quickly becoming the poster boy for hot quarterbacks everywhere. His pro jersey, with Diamond across the back, became their hottest-selling jersey before he ever stepped foot on their field. He’s making his first professional start tomorrow in a Monday Night Football game.

“Yeah, I can believe it. I’ve always believed in you, and I’m so excited I get to be there!”

“Jay, you have always believed in me. I should probably thank you for that.”

“Yeah, you should!”

“Remember my freshman year in college?”

I laugh. “I do. You thought it sucked.”

“Well, it did! I was the big man in high school. State champion winner. MVP. First team, all-state. Five-star recruit. Then, I went to college and nothing. I got freaking redshirted. I guess I just figured it would stay easy, be like high school.”

“Danny, you know as well as I do that it didn’t come easy in high school. Yeah, you were better than most kids, so it looked easy, but those of us who knew you knew how much time you devoted to working out, how many freaking passes Phillip and I caught for you, all the times you stayed after practice, the camps, all of it. You’ve always worked for it. Are you nervous? Are you comparing this to your freshman year?”

“I might be a little nervous. I’ve moved up a level. What if I can’t compete?”

“You already competed on that level when you finished the game last week. You did awesome. You’ll do awesome.”

“You know, I still visualize us playing in the empty lot between our houses before every game, and that pic of you two is hanging in my locker.”

“That’s so cool.”

“My priorities are different now. I have an amazing wife, and pretty soon, we’ll have a baby. But, when I’m out there in a game, I play because it’s fun. Because I love it.”

“I know, Danny.”

“The guys have been giving me all kinds of crap about the picture though. They want to meet this flag-bikini girl. They’ve also been making up funny stories about you two. Like, Phillip’s my gay lover. You’re my mistress. You’re the one who got away. You’re a Vegas hooker. Some think I don’t even know you. Like, I found the pic of you both going up for a pass on the internet or something. One of these days, I might tell them the truth, but for now, their wild guesses are kinda fun.”

“So … Daaaannyyy Diamoooond! Are you ready for some football—a Monday night partyyyyy?” I exaggeratedly sing the Monday Night Football anthem.

“We’ll see,” he tells me. “We’ll see.”