Chapter 5: Barbecue and Rivalry

According to tradition, we had to visit her parents’ house the next day.

The morning sunlight spilled across the dashboard as we drove through her old neighborhood—quiet, tree-lined streets that reminded me of the Midwest suburbs. Emily fiddled with the radio, humming along, but I caught her glancing at me in the rearview mirror, as if trying to read my mood.

When Emily and I arrived, her family’s place was bustling. The backyard barbecue was in full swing. Kids chased each other around lawn chairs, sticky with melted popsicles. The grill hissed, sending up the smell of burgers and sweet corn. Relatives came and went with gifts and bottles of wine. As the groom, I felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

The backyard smelled of charcoal and sweet corn. Country music played low on a Bluetooth speaker, and Emily’s dad was already flipping burgers at the grill. It was the kind of gathering I’d grown up with—paper plates, lawn chairs, and a heap of friendly chaos.

“Hey, the newlyweds are here!”

Jake, dressed in a sharp suit, walked over. In front of all the relatives, he was wearing the exact same style as me.

He strutted over, hands shoved in his pockets, grinning like a cat who’d eaten the canary. The suit was almost a mirror of mine, right down to the red pocket square.

Emily punched him lightly.

She jabbed him in the arm with a laugh, but the edge in her voice was clear.

“Why are you wearing a suit? Trying to show off?”

Jake clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be struck by Cupid’s arrow. He took a few steps back, shot me a look, and laughed:

“My best buddy’s getting married—how could I show up looking like a slob and embarrass you? Besides, the groom’s so good-looking, he’s not afraid of anyone wearing the same thing. Right, brother Ryan?”

He smirked, but there was something performative in the way he spoke, as if he was putting on a show for everyone.

I nodded and joked to Emily, “Babe, how is wearing a suit showing off? It’s called being presentable.”

The relatives chuckled, and Emily rolled her eyes, tossing her hands up in defeat.

“See? Ryan gets it. Em, you should learn from him,” Jake shot back, sarcasm thick in his voice.

I added, “But Jake, it’s your fault for wearing the same thing as me. You know what they say: ‘Wearing the same outfit isn’t scary; whoever looks worse is embarrassed.’ I think you’d better go change.”

I winked at the crowd, playing it up for laughs. Even the aunts at the lemonade table giggled.

Jake’s face darkened.

He forced a chuckle, but I saw the flash of annoyance before he looked away.

“Ryan, you saying I’m not as good-looking as you?”

I grinned, grabbed a kid running by, and squatted down.

I scooped up my nephew, little Max, who was clutching a fistful of dandelions. The kid giggled as I spun him around.

“Hey little man, who’s more handsome—me or that guy over there? Answer right and I’ll give you candy!”

The kid pointed at me without hesitation.

“You are! Uncle Jake looks too old!”

“You little punk, whose kid are you?” Jake pretended to scold, raising his hand.

Jake ruffled Max’s hair, putting on a grumpy face for the crowd. The adults cracked up.

I laughed, handed the kid some Skittles, and let him go.

“Jake, there’s a lot to do today. I’ll talk to you later.”

Pulling Emily’s hand, I led her past him. Jake’s face was thunderous.

He glared after us, jaw clenched, as if he’d lost some unspoken battle.

He couldn’t outshine me—not even in looks.

“Jake, hurry up and change your clothes. Don’t embarrass yourself!” Emily called back.

Jake gritted his teeth. When he reappeared, he was in jeans and a t-shirt.

The crowd gave him a slow clap, and someone tossed him a baseball cap. Jake muttered a curse and slunk off to the drinks table.