Chapter 63: Chapter Sixty-Three

LOGAN

“Dude, I can’t believe we didn’t go to Vegas,” Brady groans.

A year ago, if you told me my bachelor party would take place in Salt Lake City, I would have laughed.

Salt Lake has improved by a lot in the past few years as more large companies set up offices here and young professionals moved in, but Utah still has a long way to go before it earns a reputation as a fun place to live.

I don’t really give a shit that the party—if you can call four friends at a bar a party—isn’t a wild time. Things might be different if Rae weren’t eight months pregnant.

Maybe if she were having a traditional bachelorette party instead of pretending sparkling grape juice is wine with Court and Zoe, I’d be more apt to plan something a little rowdier.

There’s no chance in hell I go on vacation and leave Rae behind this close to Autumn’s due date.

I feel guilty enough being away from her just for tonight, even though Zoe probably would have chopped my balls off if I stayed in with Rae, which is what we both would have preferred to do.

Rationally, I know Court and Zoe will take good care of Rae tonight, but not being with her is killing me.

She needs help standing up half the time, she gets horrible dizzy spells, she’s short of breath whenever she isn’t lying down, and her anxiety has been out of control. My child is wreaking havoc on her body.

The least I can do is stay close in case she needs something.

We both feel like idiots for thinking that having our wedding during month eight was a good idea. I had half a mind to reschedule for after Autumn’s due date, but Rae said she didn’t want to inconvenience anyone.

We have twenty guests coming, and I don’t think moving the date would have been much trouble for any of them.

But Rae’s terrified of how her parents will react if she has Autumn before we’re married, because being an unwed mother in Utah is still a scandal, even in the twenty-first century.

I’m pretty sure that’s the real reason, but I didn’t push it. She’s got enough stress.

Max rolls his eyes at Brady. “His wedding’s tomorrow, man. Not trying to make a six-hour drive hungover on the big day.”

Max worked in the technology department when I was a financial analyst at QV.

He’s a good guy and definitely a lot more mature than Brady. He got married last year, and his wife’s expecting too, so he gets where I’m coming from with not wanting a traditional bachelor party.

“ ~Big day~ ,” Brady scoffs. “You’re whipped, Quincy.”

“Yeah, no shit he’s whipped. He’s getting ~married~,” points out Jordan, my college roommate who flew in from California for the wedding.

I don’t bother to remind them that Max is the one who said ‘big day.’ They’re not wrong. I love Rae and Autumn more than anything, including casinos and strippers, which is unfathomable to Brady, apparently.

“Can you even get laid on your wedding night?” Brady asks as he waves at the bartender for another beer.

“Dude,” Max groans.

“What? She’s, like, ten years pregnant.”

Jordan snorts. “She’ll need a strong-ass epidural if she’s pregnant with a ten-year-old.”

Max and I crack up, but Brady remains serious, staring me down with pity in his eyes, like tomorrow I won’t be going home to my insanely beautiful, sexy as fuck wife.

“I’ll be fine, man,” I tell him.

I fully intend to make love to Rae tomorrow night. I don’t think a day has gone by since her morning sickness ended that we haven’t had sex.

We just have to be more creative now that her baby bump is, well, gigantic, but Brady doesn’t need to know that.

And if I keep thinking about all the things I’m going to do to Rae tomorrow, I’m going to humiliate myself by getting a hard-on in the middle of the bar.

“You’re okay just not getting some on your wedding night?” Brady bursts out, clearly misunderstanding my assurance that I’ll be fine.

“Rae’s about to be my wife. I’m not talking about ~getting some~.”

“Yeah, Quincy stopped bragging about his conquests, what, like, sophomore year?” Jordan chimes in.

I appreciate that he’s trying to shut Brady up, but I’d really prefer not to think about all the women I slept with in college the day before my wedding, so I change the subject to the Broncos, easily distracting Brady.

I don’t know how the guy was accepted into dental school. He’s dumb as rocks sometimes.

I’m tossing back my fifth beer when my phone lights up with a call from Rae. Ignoring the comment Brady makes about ‘the old ball and chain,’ I answer, “Hi, future Mrs. Quincy.”

I won’t lie; I’m trying to coax out the squealing giggle Rae emits when I refer to her using my last name.

“Ew, Logan.” This voice is an octave lower than my fiancée’s.

“Zoe?”

“Hi, lover-boy. How’s the big night?”

My heart pounds against my sternum. Why the fuck is Zoe calling me from Rae’s phone? “It’s fine. Is everything okay?”

“Yes. I might be a little drunk. Rae’s in the bathroom. I confiscated her phone because she keeps looking up early labor symptoms—”

My hand flies to my mouth, knocking Brady’s beer into his lap. “Is she… Is she going into—”

“No, of course not. She keeps convincing herself she is, but she’s—”

“How do you know she’s not?”

There’s a scuffle, and then a familiar voice says my name.

“Court? What’s going on?” I demand.

“Zoe’s hammered. Rae’s feeling a little anxious about the pregnancy, but I talked her down. I’ll keep an eye on her tonight just in case, but she’s fine. She’s psyching herself out.”

As much as I love and trust Court, she’s not a medical professional. “Court, we should bring her to—”

I hear a muffled, “Ouch!” and then Zoe’s back on the phone.

“No. Rae always freaks herself out before big events. She convinced herself she had meningitis before high school graduation. The day before Miles and Nicole’s wedding, she thought she had a stroke.

“I swear on my godmother-ship that she’s absolutely fine. I was just calling because I wanted to ~warn you~.” She cackles so loudly I have to jerk the phone from my ear to avoid going deaf.

“And because I’m ~so drunk~, and my best friend is getting married, and you’re really good for her, and I’m happy.”

Before I can get another word out, Zoe’s continuing, “Okay. That’s enough emotions. If Rae tells you the baby’s coming, don’t believe her. Okay. Bye, lover-boy.”

The call ends, and I just stare at the screen, dumbfounded.

“Is Rae—” Max starts, eyes bulging.

I shake my head. “Nah, she’s just nervous.” That has to be it. Autumn’s not due for another month, and Rae’s pregnancy has been completely normal up until now.

“How’s the brother-in-law?” Brady asks, smirking. He’s been avoiding conversations about Autumn since the day he met Rae.

Court thinks he’s having a hard time accepting that I’m starting a new chapter. I think he’s just being a dick.

“Haven’t talked to him since the intervention thing,” I reply.

“Is he going tomorrow?” Jordan asks.

“Yeah. He and Rae are speaking again, so it’s not a big deal.” Miles is a prick, but I promised Rae I wouldn’t divulge the reason ~why~ he’s acting like one.

As long as he and his sister are on good terms, I’m fine with him coming tomorrow. I still can’t stand the guy, but I’m not going to ask my fiancée to forbid her own brother from attending our wedding.

After one last round, I tell the guys I’m heading home. It’s barely midnight, but I’m tired as fuck.

Rae’s constantly exhausted—I’m honestly impressed she was still awake when Zoe called—so we’ve been going to bed by ten every night, which I guess makes midnight feel late.

Yeah, I’m definitely whipped.

I split an Uber with Max, who lives a block away from Rae and me. He falls into conversation with the driver while I sink into my own thoughts.

I’m really fucking excited to marry Rae tomorrow. Holy fucking shit. One of the first times she came over, I remember thinking that I was going to marry her someday.

We were still getting to know each other, but somehow, I was completely certain that we would end up together.

I probably figured it out because she’s the first woman who’s ever made me think sappy shit like that.

~Damn~. That’s a whole chicken-and-egg scenario I’m too buzzed to comprehend right now.

The ten-minute drive drags by, and I’m ready to pass out by the time we pull up to my house. “Get some sleep, man,” Max laughs.

Brady would rope me into a full conversation, but Max just claps me on the back and heads down the street.

Inside, I chug a glass of water and slide under the cool sheets, wishing I were arriving to Rae sprawled diagonally across the bed, hugging the pillows.

I get it’s a tradition not to sleep with your bride-to-be the night before the wedding, and Rae didn’t mind crashing at Zoe’s new apartment, but I still hate being away from her, especially knowing how anxious she is.

Not to mention, I’m pretty freaked the fuck out from that call earlier.

I’m not surprised Rae’s a hypochondriac, and tonight’s panic was probably her anxiety getting out of hand, but if there’s the slightest chance something could be going on with Autumn…

I can’t think about that. I just have to put my trust in Court and know she’ll call if Rae needs me.