Jesus, man. Just order a Coke.”
“A soda won’t erase the memory of my wife in ice-pick heels and a miniskirt trotting off down the driveway.”
“Christ. I knew this was woman-related.” Dominic eased back from the bar. “Look, I’ve got my own problems.”
“Yeah, you do.” Travis leaned an elbow on the bar and faced Dominic. “Again, let me paint the scene for you. I’m standing in my kitchen, minding my own business. Georgie is in the bedroom and I’m getting ready to . . . you know, go see her there—”
Stephen dragged his hands down his face. “That can’t be relevant to the story, you asshole.”
“It is.” Travis seemed to be fighting back a smile. “I was carrying her a glass of wine to the bedroom—our bedroom, Stephen—when she comes out . . .” His skin paled and he seemed to be having a hard time swallowing. “She’s in this dress I’ve never seen. It’s pure white. White.” He got off the stool and turned, looking back at Dominic and Stephen over his shoulder, one hand indicating his ass. “I could see the shadow between her—”
“Enough.” Stephen held out a stern finger. “Don’t say another word.”
“I’ve never seen those shoes, either,” Travis muttered, sitting back down and burying his face in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Dominic split a look between his friends, a growing sense of doom starting to mount in his chest. “Okay, so both of your women are dressed up. Where are they going?”
“Out,” Travis and Stephen stage-whispered, twin looks of horror on their faces. “Bethany showed up to both of our houses hanging out of the top of a limousine, drinking champagne straight from the bottle