Chapter Eighteen

Brad

Dylan has been trying her best to get me to call off our engagement. She has clearly come up with a plan, but there is nothing she can do that will make me call this off. If I'm being honest, having her in my house feels like she was meant to be here. She isn't one of those women who want to come in and strip my house of ever being mine. Nope, she just dumped her clothes on my floor, probably to piss me off, and introduced me to her stupid house plant that we are supposed to keep alive. Well, it's going to be the most well-looked-after plant in the history of living plants. I don't know what kind it is, but as long as it gets a little sunlight and water, how hard can it be?

I am, however, upping my game. I have invited her friends over for dinner, including Logan, and ordered a damn birthday cake for some celebrity I have never heard of before, so we can sing happy birthday to said stranger, who we will never meet a day in our lives.

I have even gone as far as to draw up legal documents to add her to the mortgage and the bar. Ralph is having kittens, but I don't care, and the only stipulation is she has to remain married to me for five years to get half—which was Ralph's doing, not mine. She wants to up the ante? I can bring my A game and show her I'm serious about her. The marriage might be about six years sooner than I would have liked, but I'm all in.

It's also very clear that Dylan has zero interest in planning this wedding, and we now have just over five weeks. This may have started as a joke, but I will be damned if my wedding doesn't set the standard for my brothers—more specifically Chad. He already has a one-up on me; he has brother husbands, and plenty of help. This wedding has to pack a punch, but not literally—Dom and I have sorted things out between us.

The only stipulation Dylan has for the wedding is that the reception is at Happy's. She will not budge on it and has even put a sticky note on the fridge that says: 6 p.m. on our wedding day I will be at Happy's, even if no one else is there.

I know her well enough that come rain, hail, or shine, she will be at the bar, so at least that is sorted.

"Bro, you look tired," Chad says from behind the bar.

I took the day off while Dylan is at uni so I could get some help with the wedding, and Ella should be here soon. I was going to go to her, but she flipped out about everyone babying her and she wants to meet here. Who am I to tell her what to do?

"Because I fucking am. How am I going to pull this shit off? She is insisting on a dress from the op shop, the reception is at the bar... I may as well serve fucking chicken wings and pull a Britney..."

"Never fear! Ella is here to save the day."

Looking behind me, I snort. Shamus is carrying Ella into the bar, bridal style, and she doesn't look overly happy about it, but I wouldn't want to argue with the big guy. Apparently he used to be an Uber driver before he started as security for Arden. I still don't understand why Arden needs it. Yes, he is rich, but who actually knows who he is and what he does? Because I sure as shit don't, and we run in the same circle thanks to my brothers. All I know is he is a germaphobe who hates pineapples—sorry, is afraid of pineapples.

Shamus places Ella beside me, and she winces as he does.

"Seriously, I would have come to your place," I rush out.

She sighs. "Do not start with me—I will throw hands. If I have to stare at the same walls for another day, I might just go insane. How long do you get for murdering your husband? Because that option could be on the table. I would get free room and board, free food—I'm not seeing a downside."

I laugh. "Something tells me that being told when you can do things wouldn't work for you."

"You're right, I would cause a riot and get extra time."

With a lingering grin, I ask, "Do you think you could plan an entire wedding in a few weeks?"

Chad hands Ella a heat pack and she thanks him. "Have you met me? Of course I can. Now I need to know what is non-negotiable, and how much money I have to work with."

"Reception has to be at Happy's, and the wedding cake needs to wow people—cake means a lot to Dylan. As for the budget, if we can keep it at like twenty grand, I would be happy."

"Consider it done. Let's go through your ideas and make some notes and a plan of attack. Everyone is willing to pitch in and help pull this off."

After two hours, Ella has every element of the wedding broken down into parts. She has made calls and put people on all the different tasks. Chad and his harem are on decorations; apparently Mady has a good eye for it. Mady's mum is going to marry us—let's just hope she leaves the dildos at home. Vada is going to go wedding dress shopping with Dylan to make sure she gets something nice. Logan is on music, mainly because we had to give him something to do, but something that was no pressure. Flowers have gone to Isabelle and Dominic. Ella has put me in charge of the cake, since it's one of the most important parts of the day to Dylan. We have also picked invitations; they are nothing flash, but they should be here next week.

"The only thing left to work out is the venue for the wedding, so we can get council permits if we need to," Ella says, tapping her pen against her notepad.

"Dylan would hate anything fancy. I'm almost tempted to do the entire thing at the bar—it's where she feels the most comfortable."

"Ooh, what if we clear out the old beer garden and convert that into a rustic vibe? Actually, just leave that to me and Mady, we will sort it out. We'll need access to the beer garden the day before, but you will need to close the bar for at least 24 hours for this wedding."

"Done, whatever you need."

A weight has been lifted off my shoulders.

Ella says she has my number and will be in contact. Chad, the smart arse, tells her to call because I do not answer texts, and he's right. When I put my phone down, I usually lose it until someone calls me.

"Shit, I have to go," I blurt out. "I invited Dylan's friends over for cake, and they are due to finish uni soon and I still have to pick it up."

"Go. I should get home before Arden has a stroke. He has been blowing up my phone for the last half an hour."

Ella waves me off, and I race outside to my ute, looking at my watch. I will just make it as long as I grab the cake and go. The drive to Fauna's Bakery is a few minutes, and I manage to park right out front. The door chimes as I walk in, and Miss Fauna herself smiles at me from behind the counter. The lady is at least double my age, but she is here every morning with the sun and makes the best sweet treats.

"Brad, just in time. I finished the cake you wanted, and Ella just called me and said we should start organising wedding cakes. Can you get together some ideas for me?"

"I want it to be big—the biggest you have ever done. My future wife has an obsession with cake. I'm happy to leave it up to you. She does prefer vanilla, but maybe do some different layers in different flavours."

"It will be the grandest cake your wife has ever seen in her entire life. I promise you that."

"You're the best. Thanks for agreeing to make it so last minute."

"It's my pleasure," she says, pushing the box across the counter.

She walks over to the cash register that looks like it hasn't been upgraded in twenty years. Handing her the cash, I tell her to keep the change and head back out to my car.

Excitement stirs in my gut. Dylan is going to be so excited, and I never in a million years thought I would be this excited for cake, but somehow, here we are.

Once I'm home, I get the cake set up on the table, add some candles, and wait. And wait some more until I hear the sound of Roman's car.

Jumping up from my seat, I smooth down my shirt. Dylan's laughter fills the house as she walks through the front door. The instant she spots the cake, she stops talking mid-sentence, looks over at me, and runs towards me. I catch her as she jumps into my arms.

She peppers my face with kisses, and if this is how she acts over cake, I will make sure to celebrate daily with her.

"Whose birthday is it?" she asks.

"Fucked if I know—someone famous. Figured we needed cake to celebrate."

Dylan slides down my body and walks over to check out the cake. She dips her finger in the icing, not taking her eyes off me as she puts it in her mouth and sucks. Well, fuck. I guess I know what we are doing with the left-over cake later.