Hanna startled, bolting upright. “What the hell?” she asked, turning to look at me.

“Bergstrom-Sumnerses!” Max shouted from the hallway. “Open thy door!”

“I think they went with Sumner-Bergstrom,” I heard George correct.

My stomach dropped.

Before the wedding, we’d had no time for parties: Hanna was traveling, I was working, life was too busy for the requisite bachelor and bachelorette shenanigans. And to be frank, neither of us much needed them anyway; we didn’t need any particular send-off for the single days—much to the friends’ dramatic, and vocal, disappointment. In the past week, we’d fallen back into routine and planned for a quiet post-wedding weekend at home. Hanna wanted us to be together at our apartment before another flurry of work trips began.

The friends knew this.

They knew we were home.

Shit.

They had promised us a party when the wedding was done.

“I think I know what this is.” I stood, walking to the front door and not giving one single fuck that I was wearing nothing but my boxers. They wanted to come here unannounced? They’d get what they got.

The door swung open to reveal Chloe and Bennett, Max and Sara, and George, holding an armful of booze.

“Surprise!” everyone yelled in unison.

Everyone but George, who was staring at my boxers. “It’s like you knew I was coming over.”

“Wow. Hey, guys,” I said flatly.

“You have no choice but to let us get you drunk and have our collective way with you,” Chloe said, holding up an armful of lacy garments. “Some of these are for Hanna, but most of them George picked out for you.”

“Well then hell, come in,” I said, stepping aside.

Max and Bennett lingered in the hall, looking guilty. I raised my brows, looking at them expectantly. “You guys coming in or... ?”

They hesitated, sharing a glance between them.

“The wives thought...” Max began, taking in my minimalist outfit.

“No, hey, it’s cool,” I said, giant fake smile in place. “The new wife and I were just about to enjoy some newlywed sex, but, see, this is way better.”

“Look,” Bennett said, “we probably should have called first, but... Chloe.”

“Called first?” I laughed, clapping their shoulders roughly and pulling them inside. These dicks were getting so drunk they wouldn’t be able to walk home. “No need to call! You’re welcome to come into my house and hang out with me and my new bride in our underwear any fucking time.”

Max slunk in, laughing quietly. “Well, shit.”

“First shots for these gentlemen,” I said, putting an arm around each of their shoulders. “They’d like to get these here festivities done started!”

Chloe followed George into the kitchen, while Sara went to the living room, hugging a still shell-shocked Hanna and putting on some music. An upbeat rock song filtered through the apartment, and they both came back to where the rest of us had gathered.