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Story: The Match

Anthony whistled. Beckett nodded appreciatively. “All right, so this is happening.”

“It’s happening,” I confirmed, sipping my Sazerac.

The two of them exchanged a glance.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing. We’re just starting to wonder if there’s some truth to the grandmothers’ lilac story after all,” Beckett offered as if he was commenting on the weather.

I rolled my eyes. “Let’s not open up that can of worms. I have a hard enough time keeping a straight face when they mention it. But Grace is buying that story.”

Anthony cocked a brow. “And you don’t mind? Zachary, what gives?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“We went from every guy in the family—except Chad—doing what we do,” Beckett said, referring to their single status, “to wanting to settle down.”

I pointed my glass at them. “I never mentioned I was settling down.”

“That’s better, then,” Anthony said. “I was starting to worry.”

“And yet youarespending an entire weekend with her,” Beckett pointed out.

“So? What’s the problem with that?” I asked.

“Yeah, dude,” Anthony said. “Two days of getting laid versus going fishing with us and the grandfathers? I’d take it too.”

Beckett opened his mouth but then shook his head. Clearly he’d wanted to disagree but didn’t.

The truth was that this meant far more than getting laid, but there was no way I could explain it to these two.

“So, what’s new with you guys?” I asked.

“Same old, same old,” Anthony replied. “Business is doing well. So is my personal life.” He winked.

“Same for me,” Beckett said. “Can’t complain.”

“What’s the plan for Sunday?” I inquired.

“We’re hoping to convince the grandfathers to change their spot on the bayou.”

“Why?”

“Because I think they like to live dangerously in their old age,” Beckett said through gritted teeth. “Their new favorite spot is in the sun.”

“That’s not so bad. The new boat definitely has a lot of shade.”

“It gets very hot. If you would come more often, you’d know.” Anthony said.

I cleared my throat. “Look, fishing’s never been my thing, okay? I went out more often when they had that godforsaken wreck of a boat because I literally felt it would tip over and they’d become alligator food. But this one is solid.”

“Yeah, but they might still become alligator food,” Anthony pointed out, “because they like to fish in an area that’s very popular with gators.”

I nearly spit my drink out. “What? Why?”

“Apparently that’s where the best fish are!” Beckett sounded exasperated, which was funny because my younger brothers very rarely got angry. They were like me in that regard.

“Fucking hell,” I exclaimed.