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“The irony is not lost on me.”

Charlie finally stops laughing and it’s late at this point and we’re both exhausted. I drift off to sleep still so surprised about how this day has gone and wondering what the next three weddings will be like.

Chapter 11

Charlie

It’s Friday night and I’m hanging out at my condo with Stratton, his son Trevor and my buddy from Stanford, Stuart Hunter. It’s poker night and I needed to blow off some steam after a particularly hard week of work.

A batch of my coffee beans showed up from Brazil and they were covered in mold—and I mean absolutely covered. I was already low on inventory, so I had to scramble big time to figure out my next steps. A coffee company that is out of beans isnota good thing.

I was surprised when Stratton texted back that he could make it tonight. He’s been so caught up with Ariel and the baby and, between that and work, rarely has time to join us for poker night.

“So good to see you, dude,” I say, clapping him on the back.

“Nice to be off-duty, man,” Stratton responds. “I forgot how much work it is to take care of a toddler. She’s walking now and if we can just keep her alive, it will be a huge accomplishment.”

“Ha! Well, thanks for keeping me alive then, Dad,” Trevor interjects, grabbing a beer out of the fridge. “I didn’t realize how lucky I am.”

“Just you wait, Trevor,” Stratton responds. “You’ll understand when you have one.”

“Well, that’s certainly not going to be any time soon,” Trevor declares. “The last time I took care of Chloe while you all were out to dinner, she picked a fight with Frank which I was fairly certain she was not going to win. He bopped her on the head but luckily didn’t use his claws. Then she pooped in the tub. Perfect night really.”

Everyone erupts in laughter, shaking their heads.

The thought of Stratton’s oversized cat, Frank, popping Chloe in the head is funny and scary at the same time.

“That’s nothing. Last night before bed, she wanted me to read Goodnight Moon for the fifth time, and when I dared to refuse, she screamed nonstop for ten minutes before Ariel came in and said she’d read it to her again. Of course, two pages into the book, Chloe drifted off. I’m sure all the screaming knocked her out. Damn kid…she’s lucky she’s so cute.”

I wonder to myself whyanyoneagrees to have kids. It’s just too much damn work. I completely understand why my parents had live-in help even though my mom didn’t work outside the home.

We settle around my dining room table preparing to play. The satisfying clack of poker chips fills the air as we divvy them up.

"Alright, gentlemen," I announce, shuffling the deck with a flourish. "Texas Hold'em, $50 buy-in. Let's see who's feeling lucky tonight."

Stuart snorts, cracking open his second beer. "Lucky? Please, it’s nothing to do with luck. I'm about to school you amateurs in the fine art of poker."

"Big words from the guy who lost his shirt last time," Trevor quips, arranging his chips into neat stacks.

"That was a fluke and you know it, kid," Stuart retorts, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Besides, I've been practicing."

Stratton raises an eyebrow. "Practicing, huh? What, did you download one of those poker apps and play against bots all week?"

"Maybe," Stuart mumbles, suddenly very interested in organizing his chips.

I deal the first hand, the cards snapping crisply against the tabletop. The familiar rhythm of the game settles over us as we check our hole cards and toss chips into the pot.

"I'll raise," Trevor announces, pushing forward a stack of red chips with a cocky grin.

"Oh, here we go," I groan. "Mr. Bike Empire with his fancy money thinks he can bully us."

Stratton chuckles, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Don't let him psych you out, Charlie. Remember last time when he tried to bluff with a pair of twos?"

"That was one time," Trevor protests, his ears turning red. "I've upped my game since then."

As the night progresses, the banter flows as freely as the alcohol. Empty beer bottles accumulate on the side table, and the level in the bourbon decanter steadily drops.

"Full house, jacks over fives," Stuart declares triumphantly, splaying his cards on the table. "Read 'em and weep, boys."