I Do I Did

Thirty Seven

There are very few things worse than sitting at a breakfast table with your husband while pretending to have a good time. Especially when there's a restaurant full of people watching and whispering about you. That's what Patrick and Pete were having to endure right now.

And the phrase very few things was used because there are things that are worse. One, for instance being sitting at a breakfast table with your husband pretending to have a good time with your best friend and his finance also sitting at the same table pretending to have a good time.

Breakfast was Ryan's bright idea. He thought it would be the perfect way for them all to air all their problems out maturely. Because they couldn't yell and scream at each other in a public setting. Yeah right.

The waitress walked over to the table with a bright smile on her face. She handed each man a menu and stood there to wait for their orders.

"Just give me fluffy scrambled eggs with hella cheese."

She nodded as she wrote down the order. Taking Brendon's menu back from him.

"I'd like crunchy bacon. Don't burn it. And a bagel with cream cheese and strawberry jelly." Ryan handed her his menu.

"Poached eggs with a buttered muffin please." Pete ordered.

"Caramelized Onion and Pepper Quesadillas." Patrick picked the first thing he saw when he looked down.

"Coming right up." She smiled as she wrote it down. She looked back up at them. "Drinks?"

"Orange juice." Brendon said automatically. "Mixed with apple juice."

"Can I just have a tea?" Ryan asked.

"Of course." She scribbled it down.

"Coffee. Black."

"That's disgusting." Brendon muttered.

The woman turned to Patrick. "And you, sir?"

"Can I have a glass of wine."

"Of cour-"

"Do you really think that's a smart decision?" Pete interrupted.

The girl paused with the pen against the paper.

"I think it's what I want to order."

"But it seems the things you want to do haven't been the smartest lately."

Patrick's eyes snapped to his. "Oh, I'm sorry. I wasn't aware you were the patron saint of good decisions."

"More like the patron saint of fakes and liars." Brendon muttered.

"And what are you?" Pete smiled across the table. "The patron saint of jealous bitches?"

"I'll take the wine." Patrick said again.

"Pat, maybe that's not the best thing to start off with." Ryan injected uncomfortably. "Especially not with the veagan breakfast you ordered."

"Vegan?" He repeated.

"Of course you agree with Pete. You just can't help it." Brendon rolled his eyes.

"Because I'm right."

"Because you've got him wrapped around your manipulative, arrogant, little manicured finger."

"I don't get manicures!"

"That's the part you want to disagree with?" Ryan asked disbelievingly.

"You want me to drink a coffee like you?" Patrick scoffed.

"That would be a nice change actually."

"Fine." He turned to the waitress who looked frightened and confused. She was probably wishing she'd waited on any other table right now. "Give me an Irish coffee. A little less coffee, little more Irish though."

She scratched out what she wrote down before and scribbled down his new order.

"You're being ridiculously childish."

"I'm sorry I'm not as mature your ex wife."

Pete drew back in shock. "Where the hell did that comes from? I've never compared you to her."

"Not out loud."

"You're just grasping at straws because you know you messed up last night." Pete whispered harshly.

"You seemed to be pretty okay with me last night."

"Me fucking you doesn't mean I forgave you for fucking up. It means I wanted to fuck you."

The woman gasped almost inaudibly. But quickly regained her composure. Putting on as straight of a face as she could manage.

"That's the asshole you're putting me on the same level of importance with." Brendon glared at Ryan.

"This shit again." Ryan rolled his eyes.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Ryan is attracted to Pete. Like he had a crush on him or something."

Ryan laughed dryly at the over exaggeration. "You're such a-"

"He what?!" Patrick raised an eyebrow.

Pete slapped his palms against the table. "Oh just bring the got damn wine!"

"Yes sir." The woman rushed off as quickly as she could. She was probably going to ask one of her coworkers to switch tables with her.

"Poor girl." Ryan pursed his lips as he watched her go. "She seemed so jittery."

"Not as jittery as I'm beginning to feel." Pete sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

"Have you had your morning cocktail?"

"Fuck you, Ryan."