“And Piper …” I try.
He wipes his mouth with his hand. “And Piper … is on the verge of breaking up with me. She thinks her illness defines our relationship and that she can’t give me everything I need or deserve.” Caleb is the quietest guy I know, so I’m shocked he’s giving away so much information. It must be eating him alive.
“I’ve proposed to her five times and the answer is always the same: she loves me too much to allow me to tether myself to a woman who could be sick the rest of her life. She doesn’t or won’t understand that it doesn’t matter to me. I don’t want anybody else.”
I give him the drink I poured for myself.
“That’s why she didn’t come with us,” Nate says like he finally gets the answer to an unspoken question.
A chorus of “That sucks,” “So rough man,” and “Sorry, bro” passes around the table.
“But she hasn’t broken up with you yet,” Will, of all people, says.
“Yeah, and …?” barks Caleb.
Will shrugs a shoulder. “Sounds like she really doesn’t want to.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Caleb bursts up from his seat. “Last month she only let me see her a handful of times and three of those were doctor visits. Her dad is giving me the run around on the phone now too and telling me she can’t talk.”
He swallows down the drink in three quick gulps.
At that, I walk over and pull him into a bear hug. “I love you, brother, and I’m here for you.” I keep my voice low. “Anything I can do, let me know.”
He steps back and nods. “Man, I’m fucking sorry. This is supposed to be a party.”
“This isn’t the party,” I remind him. “You’re fine.”
“How the hell did we get on this subject again?” Caleb tries to conjure the memory of the earlier conversation up.
“Cold feet.” I don’t bother with making a pretty drink. Instead I just swig from the bottle, wishing I knew what Sophie was thinking right now.
Chapter Eight
Sophie
I realize this is the grand finale as the house lights dim a little extra and the music changes to an excitement-building instrumental.
I don’t think I can handle another stripper! I’ve been laughing, simultaneously shielding my eyes and gawking, and thoroughly embarrassed for the past two hours! My face hurts because I’ve been smiling so long!
Honestly, though, when your fiancé is more amazingly buff than any one of these guys even wishes he was and all you can think about is him naked on top of you, pinning you down against the kitchen countertop as he pounds his amazingly long, thick … I swig back the last sip of my margarita.
That’s when Tarzan—clad only in a leopard print loin cloth—comes out, swinging on a “vine” from the rafters!
“I gotta go to the bathroom!” I cry and bounce from my seat.
“Oh no you don’t!” Britt and Quinn each grab one of my arms and pull me back into my chair.
This is killer! Of course, the guy is going to be looking for his Jane, and of course, my two best friends have not embarrassed me enough in one night and stand, pointing down at me.
And of course, with all the women in the room screaming or pointing at their friends, I look the most mortified. So of course—he chooses me.
“OH MY GOD!!” I scream.
Tarzan is OVER ME, SWINGING HIS “TRUNK” WHILE GIVING ME A LAP DANCE!!!
I’m sure I could explode from sheer humiliation, but just before I do, he moves on to Quinn.
Ah, sweet revenge!!
Britt is laughing so hard at Quinn’s mortification she’s crying and folds a dollar bill into Tarzan’s cloth!
Quinn slaps Britt’s arm, but she couldn’t care less, because it’s now her turn for a lap dance.
What a night!
It’s two a.m. when the three of us finally get to our hotel room and I fall into bed.
“I was there and I still can’t believe Josh paid for us to do that!” Britt crows. “Oh my God, that was the most fun I’ve had in … forever!”
“Who would’ve thought we’d check into the hotel early and be presented with Chippendale’s tickets by the clerk?” exclaims Quinn as she digs her makeup remover from her overnight bag.
“In a golden envelope.” I smile, more in love with Josh than ever.
It made absolutely no freaking logical sense—he and Liam had completely foregone the sex-style party for themselves but sent us to one??
“Holy fuck, that one guy looked just like Channing Tatum! And oooh, how he moved his package!!” No way Brittani is getting to sleep tonight. “And when he pulled you up on stage …”
I totally tried to resist him, but the more I did, the harder he pulled. “Josh would’ve massacred him.”
“That’s right!” Quinn says. “Him.”