Grady made a face at him. Then, “I don’t need softening up either.”
“Yeah, man. Mad Max got you good. I know. Like I said, life’s better this way.”
“I know it is. That’s why I want to keep it.”
They sat there for another few minutes as the tide crept higher. “You could just talk about it,” Baller offered finally. “It doesn’t have to be the whole fancy dinner, diamond ring, down on one knee thing. You can just say ‘Hey, I want to get married.’”
That was absolutely what Grady should do. He knew that. He just felt like Max deserved something special. “I got him a hat that says Trophy Husband,” he said. “To replace this one. But then I lost the bet and didn’t get to make him wear it today, so I just didn’t tell him.”
“Fuck, that would’ve been amazing. No wonder you’re holding out.” Baller shook his head. “He won’t care, though. Like, realistically, he only cares about the end result.”
I care.Grady shook his head. “I should go back. Don’t wanna be rude or….”
“Or seem like you’re sulking?” Baller stood up and brushed off his shorts.
“Or that,” Grady agreed. He knew he’d been doing better lately, but he deserved his reputation as a poor loser.
For the rest of the afternoon, he did his best to prove he’d changed. He played beer pong. He took his turn holding Reyna and swayed gently to the music so Baller could bully his husband into a dance. He brought Max drinks—beer alternating with Gatorade—and accepted Max’s wry-but-fond thanks in return. He won a three-legged race with Max’s nephew and blew bubbles with his niece. After all, he got to spend the rest of the off-season with Max and then live with him in California. Everyone else only got him for a few days.
It was a lot of socializing, though. Maybe too much. Grady thought he’d done a good job taking it easy on the alcohol, but by the time they lit the bonfire, the world had gone a little wobbly-edged.
So of course that was the time Max’s older brother decided they should have a conversation.
The live band was still going strong, although the set list had transitioned from lively East Coast rock and pop tunes to the kind of croony saccharine stuff that was probably designed to remind people to find their DDs and go home because they were tired. Grady was just minding his own business stuffing his face with junk he’d spend the rest of the year denying himself when Logan showed up at his elbow and said, “Can we talk?”
Grady looked sadly at his bowl of Doritos. Well,Logancould talk. Hopefully he wouldn’t expect much out of Grady right now. Grady had peopled all day. But he wasn’t going to be rude to Max’s brother. Max loved his family. Grady could suck it up a little longer as long as he got to eat while doing it. Apparently socializing made him hungry. “Sure.” He crunched another chip. Wow, he really should’ve eaten more during the day. His head felt all floaty. “What’s up?” Up. Hehe. Grady’s head, that’s what.
Logan drew himself up to his full height, which was inconvenient because he blocked out the light and heat from the fire. Grady took a half step to the left so he could still see. “I want to make sure we’re on the same page.”
Grady waited for him to continue. He didn’t. “Okay…?”
“About Max,” Logan said, sounding impatient. As if it was Grady’s fault Grady couldn’t read his mind. And Max thoughtGradywas wound too tight. “I know what he can be like, all right?”
Obnoxious? Competitive? Snuggly? Grady didn’t know what Logan meant. He ate another chip.
Logan exhaled sharply. “I’m saying you better not hurt him.”
Oh Christ, was that what this was about? Max’s spanking fetish? Logan must’ve overheard Grady talking with Tanya Hyde. “Look, no offense, but Max is a big boy. What we do in the bedroom is really none of your business.”
Logan made a strangled noise. “That’s not—I mean—” He closed his eyes. Grady hoped he wasn’t imagining it. Gross.
Grady cut in before Logan could say something really weird. “I love Max. I’m always gonna spank him as hard as he wants. Sorry.” Oooh, he’d spent too much time around Canadians.
Logan’s shoulders slumped. “No, you know what, uh. Thanks for being honest, I guess.”
Grady waited a few more seconds to see if he brought anything else up. When he didn’t, Grady prompted, “So we’re good?”
“We’re good,” Logan laughed. “God, I have so many regrets. Uh, yeah. Anyway. What’s, uh, what do you think about the band? Pretty good, right?”
“Yeah, actually. Although”—now that Grady was thinking about it—“they’re doing, like, a theme or something. There was that Taylor Swift song. And that other Taylor Swift song. And Ed Sheeran. And what’s his name, uh…. Bruno Pluto or something.”
“Bruno Mars?”
“That’s the one. The one about the dancing shoes. Oh shit.” Those songs were all about getting married or engaged. Grady narrowed his eyes. “Nobody better be fucking proposing. That’d be so rude. Today is supposed to be about Max. Do you know anything about that?”
Logan raised his hands. “No, no. I’m innocent.”
Well yeah, Logan was already married. “If you see any assholes getting on one knee, let me know.”
