I ignore the Olympic bar and decide it can wait. As I’m doing curls, I hear the door behind me open.

In walk Jamey and Kevin, dressed in full workout clothes, carrying matching stainless steel water bottles.

And wearing twin looks of discomfort as they spot me.

“Hi, Ryan,” Jamey mutters, picking a bench as far away from me as possible.

“Hey.” I rack more weight on my barbells, maximizing out, then lift. Kevin watches, eyes raised, counting my reps.

Jamey’s mouth tightens.

“I thought you’d be at the bachelor party,” I grunt out.

Kevin huffs. “They hired a stripper.”

“Yeah? So?”

“A female stripper,” Kevin adds in an acid tone. He and Jamey share an eyeroll.

“Gotcha. Maybe you should head over to your sister’s party. Heard they have their own entertainment.”

“Now there’s an idea,” Jamey says with a laugh. “Carrie and I could critique him while we drink w — “

I drop the weights, the gentle bounce of their heft on the lightly padded gym floor barely registering as I get right in his face.

“Leave Carrie the fuck alone,” I warn him, breathing so hard, my exhale makes his hair lift off his brow.

Maybe it’s all the testosterone unleashed in my blood by the lifting. Maybe it’s my chewed-on tongue, sore from biting it. Maybe it’s my frustration with all the kisses and caresses with Carrie that aren’t real — but damn well feel like they are.

Or maybe I just fucking hate Jamey for what he did to my best friend. My fake girlfriend.

My — whatever Carrie is to me now.

“What?” he says, incredulous.

“You heard me. Don’t go near her again — except for the bare minimum you have to do for the wedding.”

“You can’t tell me what to do. You don’t control who Carrie spends time with.”

“When it comes to Carrie being hurt, I damn well do.”

“I can’t believe she’s dating a caveman.”

“I can’t believe she ever dated a piece of shit like you.”

Air slides between his teeth as he sucks in an offended breath. “Fuck you, Ryan.”

“Is that what this is about? Every time you dropped by the O Spa and watched all of us in our g-strings, you were just imagining fucking us? Not only did you use her for a beard, you...” I can’t even complete the sentence.

Kevin inhales sharply.

“You don’t understand,” Jamey says, in my face with Kevin as backup. I almost laugh at the posturing, because I’m close to being the size of them — combined.

“Then explain it.”

“You’re straight. I’ll bet you’ve always known you’re straight. You have no idea how hard a struggle it’s been for me. I started dating Carrie with the best of intentions. I like her. I even love her.”

Kevin makes a sound in his throat.

I give Jamey a deadly, disbelieving stare.

“But she’s nice and sweet and she just gives and gives and gives and after a while, it was impossible to leave. Impossible to really think! How do you think when someone’s that nice to you?” Jamey practically shouts.

“You’re blaming her niceness for the fact that you were a jerk to her?” I’d better not be hearing this. He’s trying to make what he did Carrie’s fault.

“It was agony, knowing I wasn’t attracted to women, not even to Carrie. Denying it. Trying so hard to be the man she wanted. Trying even harder to turn her into the person I wanted. You don’t understand. You can’t understand.”

“Here’s what I do understand, you asshole. You had a choice.”

“You’re blaming me for being gay?”

“What? No! This has nothing to do with your being gay!”

He looks like I gut-punched him.

“What?” Jamey gasps. Kevin’s eyebrow arches but he says nothing.

“Not one bit,” I continue. "The fact that you’re making it all about you is the problem. You didn’t show even the slightest bit of respect for Carrie when you dumped her. You called her from the airport while you were running off with him,” I point at Kevin, "broke up with her, and announced you were gay. And then you hung up." Kevin just blinks slowly, like an owl. Jamey’s face drains of color. "You stripped her of her dignity. You don’t get to do that to her. No one does. Ever again.”

“I needed to make sure she knew,” Jamey says in a small voice.

“Then you should have been a grown-up. A decent human being would meet her in person, say all the nice things she needed to hear about how good and smart and kind and attractive she is. Then you break it to her gently. Let her know it’s not her fault. Let her know she’s still valuable.”

“Of course she’s valuable!”

“You made her think she wasn’t. Isn’t. You broke her fucking heart, Jamey.” I get in his face. “Own it. You were a prick to her. You made everything about you. You made your own selfishness her fault.”

He staggers backward, nearly tipping Kevin over.

My hands reach down to the barbells, the metal grips digging into my palms, my heart speeding through my chest like a freight train. His eyes are wide with a scheming look that make it clear he’s still desperately trying to make Carrie at fault for his own self-centeredness.

Bzzz.

My phone buzzes. I drop a barbell and look at it as it buzzes again, then I grab it. It’s an actual call, from Zeke.

I answer.

“Hey! I need you. Now.” The last word out of Zeke’s mouth is a bark, a growl, a primal sound that makes me want to pick up shield and sword and join my fellow man in battle.

“Where?” I snap.

“Courtyard by the chocolate buffet.” Click.

That doesn’t sound anything like a battlefield, but I am ready.

I walk quickly away from Jamey and Kevin, glad to be rid of them. The tension was getting thicker and thicker by the minute, and any break from sexual tension and alpha male preening bullshit is a relief. Whatever emergency Zeke’s going through has to be better than that.

In the locker room, I throw on my clothes and then lightly jog to Zeke’s location.

I turn the corner toward the chocolate buffet and find Zeke in the center of a group of women, down to his skivvies, while Jenny peels a red lace garter off his thick thigh.