"What?" Logan and I ask at the same time.

Amanda giggles.

Lucy shrugs. "Nothing. It's just that baseball uniforms... we kind of miss the way you guys look in them. It's hot."

"Hey!" Jake shouts. "I still wear the uniform!"

Lucy and Amanda's heads slowly turn to him.

Micky pounces on Jake, covering his body with hers. "Back the fuck off, bitches, he's mine!"

We all burst out laughing.

When Lucy's done, she says, "You can keep him, I have a fiancé. And he's perfect."

I pinch my shirt, then release it. "Yup," I say, my nose in the air in true Logan cockiness. "I'm a broody, tortured artist."

That gets more laughs.

Luce pats my cheek. "Yeah you are, baby."

"What about me?" Logan asks Amanda, his eyes narrowed. He's dead serious. "Say something nice about me."

"Like what?" she giggles.

"I don't know. Like how I'm going to be a fucking doctor or some shit."

She chuckles again. "Or how about the fact that you're ridiculously hot and you have the best abs known to mankind."

"Yeah, I do!" he shouts, his head nodding slowly.

"You should take your shirt off!" Micky yells.

Jake turns to her, his full glare in place. "What the fuck, Kayla?"

She laughs harder.

"Do it!" Lucy laughs.

I cover her mouth with my hand and bring her into me. "Don't encourage that shit."

Logan makes a show of stretching his arms in the air. Then slowly, he takes off his shirt. "Yeah, baby!" Amanda shouts.

Okay, so maybe we've had more than a few beers. A lot more.

Lucy mumbles something into my hand.

"Fuck this!" Jake spits. "I'm putting on my uniform." He starts to get up but Micky pulls him back down.

Lucy's completely lost it, her body convulsing against mine while she drools on my hand.

"Fuck you both," I tell them. "I win. I'll sketch all you bitches."

Silence.

Lucy pulls my hand away and slowly turns to me, her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed.

And now I'm scared.

I swallow loudly.

"Did you just call us bitches?"

"Yeah!" Amanda adds.

"Did you?" Micky says, her arms crossed.

I look at all of them, knowing I'm two seconds away from copping an earful of crazy.

"Did you?" Lucy asks, her eyebrow quirked.

I panic.

The front door opens and Heidi walks in. "I brought bridal magazines."

If you ever want to hear four girls squeal so loud it makes your ears ring, just mention the words 'bridal magazines'.

Also, if you want to be kicked out of a room full of squealing girls and be told to do 'manly asshole shit', do the same thing.

Jake brings out another six-pack of beer into the yard. He scratches the back of his head as he takes a seat around the fire pit Logan just started. "Why the fuck do I always get kicked out of my own house?"

Logan chuckles, then kicks my foot with his. "Two weeks and you'll be a married man."

"I know."

"Nervous?"

"Nope. Anxious, though. I just want it to be done, you know? I just want her to be my wife already."

Jake passes me an uncapped beer. "When do you move into the apartment?"

"Tomorrow."

Logan sighs loudly.

"What's with you?" I ask him.

"I'm just... I don't know. I'm all nostalgic and shit." He looks from me to Jake. "It's just strange. All the shit we've been through. Who would've thought three punks in high school would turn out to be where we are... doing what we're doing..."

I don't know that we mean to, but we all look into the house, to the girls that have changed our lives.

"I always knew Lucy was it. There was never a doubt. Not even for a second."

"Was there a moment?" Logan asks. "Like a distinct moment when you knew that she was it for you."

A smile pulls on my lips. "Not really. I mean I could lie, I could tell you it was the first time we had sex, or the first time she laughed. But I don't know... maybe there wasn't a moment, or maybe it was all of them."

I see Lucy sit up straighter, her eyes wide. I lean forward, trying to get a better look. Her hand moves to cover her mouth. I start to get up so I can get to her. She says something to Amanda, and Amanda gets up and opens the glass sliding door. "Cam!" she shouts. "Lucy wants to show you something."

"Look," she says excitedly when I get into the house.

I squat down next to her. "What's up?"

She lifts the magazine to show me a picture of a dress—a wedding dress. "Look," she says again.

And it hits me—why she's showing me—and why she's so damn excited. "It looks like your mom's."

She nods frantically. "Can we go to look at it tomorrow?"

"NO!" Heidi shouts. "He can't see the dress before the wedding."

Her shoulders drop, so do the corners of her mouth. "I forgot about that."

"Babe, why would you want a dress that looks like your mom's? Why can't you just wear hers?"

And if you ever want to hear four girls gasp at the exact same time, say something like that.

***

Since Heidi mentioned the 'no seeing dress before wedding' rule, she won't let me in on much of the wedding planning, which is fine, because I have my own planning to do.

I pull into Mark's dealership and walk into his office like I own the place. He's not there, so I pick up the phone and press the few buttons until I can hear my heavy, creeper breathing over the PA system. I start beat boxing into the phone, making sure I spit more than necessary. "Yo, Marky Mark. Please come to your office immediately, there's a funky bunch of manly stud waiting for you."

I hang up and sit in his chair. Then I kick my feet up on his desk, lean back, and link my fingers behind my head.

He shakes his head when he walks in, trying to hide his smile. He takes the seat on the other side of the desk and jerks his head at my feet. "Feet off the desk, this shit's mahogany."

I scoff, but do it anyway. Leaning forward on my elbows I tell him, "The desk is shit, I'll design you a new one."

He raises his eyebrows. "About time. You did it for your future father-in-law years ago, I've been waiting for mine."

I steeple my fingers under my chin. "All good things come to those who wait."

He chuckles. "What do you want, punk?"

I lean back and cut the cocky attitude. "So you know how I'm getting married in a week?"

"YOU ARE? When did this happen?" he jokes with feigned excitement.

I throw a pen at his head.

"Yeah, what about it?" he asks through a smile.

I laugh, a mixture of humor and nerves—because that's what I am all of a sudden—nervous.

"So I was wondering—" My chuckle cuts me off. I shake my head to clear my thoughts, and try again. "I was hoping—" I do it again.

"Are you okay?" He's no longer amused, more concerned.