by Snow, Nicole
Aunt Charlotte blinks again, just standing, stunned.
“Hunter,” I whisper, still feeling her eyes on my back. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
“Did the only thing I could, babe.” He pulls me closer to his side. “And we'll do it plenty more.”
It's my turn to drag my jaw off the floor. The excitement that arcs through me is enough to make me stumble.
Crap. I’m in for one hell of a night.
We arrive at the ballroom a little later. As much as I criticized Rochelle’s black and white wedding, I have to admit, it looks gorgeous.
Even the goldfish seem peaceful, floating in their vases. Hunter must read my mind because he squeezes my hand, and when I glance up, he winks at me.
“Hunter! Wendy!”
My parents are in the far corner where a silver backdrop has been hung.
Mother waves as if we can’t see her. “Over here!”
Hunter pulls me forward and we move together.
“Rochelle isn’t here yet,” Mother says as we arrive. She fluffs her hair with one hand.
Well, obviously, I think to myself. I wonder if bridezilla will even make it down before she has a stroke.
The only other person nearby is the photographer, who's busy snapping pictures. I don’t know if he's just checking his camera, or taking pictures of the room. Rochelle would've requested some of those.
I smile at him, then at Mother. Both her and Dad are dressed in black, except for the white roses pinned on them. “You both look nice.”
“And you look simply adorable in that dress!” Mother hisses approvingly. “Doesn’t she, Hunter?”
“Sure does,” he growls. “Never seen a woman so perfect in my life.”
Mom does a half-swoon then and there, wrinkling her nose. I step between them, trying to save myself from more embarrassment. Even if – okay – I'm secretly loving it.
“Great job on your hair, too, Wendy-girl,” she says, leaning closer. “Isn't it just perfect, Hunter?”
Good God. It’s going to be a long night.
It doesn't feel like it once his hand is on me, though.
He reaches up, brushing a wave of hair off the side of my face. I want to pull my eyes off him so bad, but I can’t. Not with the way he’s looking at me. Not with that charm of his that says, mine, now.
“I like her hair no matter how she wears it,” he says, pushing a secret hand across my hip.
I nearly melt right there. I also wonder if I accidentally did hire an actor. He’s certainly a much better player, a much better charmer, than I’ll ever be.
“Good answer!” Dad whispers loudly, a hand cupped over his mouth.
I know they want me to be happy, to find someone, to not be the pity-talk of the family, but this...it’s not real. They both know that. And whatever happens between us later – what I want to happen so bad it hurts – doesn't mean we're destined to be anything.
“Here, I have flowers for both of you,” Mother tells us. “Then let’s get a picture of the four of us.”
I shake my head, “No, wait, we –”
“Sounds good,” Hunter says.
He's already moving, taking the boutonniere from my mother and passing it to me. There's no time for more second-guessing.
I force my fingers not to shake or linger too long as I pin it on him. Then I hold my breath as he pins a corsage on me, dying a few more times every second his fingers give their delicious pressure.
Once the flower stays in place, he runs a knuckle along the side of my face.
I shake my head at him while I'm biting my lip. Please. Enough.
He grins, then whispers, “Picture time. Consider yourself lucky.”
The photographer takes at least a dozen of the four of us, and then Mother insists he take some of just Hunter and I. My make-believe boyfriend plays it up, missing no opportunity.
He tickles my sides, making me laugh. Stands behind me with his arms around my waist and puts his cheek next to mine, intense and adorable all at once.
Then he grasps my hips and lifts me up in the air. The photographer is clicking pictures the entire time, even while I’m telling Hunter to put me down.
Mother can't stop laughing, telling us how sweet we look. Dad just grins and shakes his head.
It's all too perfect. Then Murphy's law kicks in like we've forgotten it existed.
A wailing screech fills the room.
“What are you doing wasting all our photo time on them? It’s my wedding!”
Besides her freakout, Rochelle actually looks beautiful in her full-length white gown, with sleeves that are little more than thin strips of elastic on her upper arms, except for her red, angry face.
“Ah, finally! We were just waiting for you to arrive,” Mother says.
Rochelle stomps up to me and puts her face right in mine. “Where did you get that dress?”
“I bought it,” I bite off, my patience skipping to its last nerve. “For your wedding. You're welcome.”
Her nostrils flair.
Telling myself it’s her wedding, her day, I smile. “There are three fish on every table. You're welcome again.”
“Yes, there are!” Mother chimes in. “I counted them myself. All thanks to Hunter.”
So much for a save. That’s the worst thing she could've said.
Rochelle’s eyes are shooting bullets, pointed at me and Hunter both. He pulls me aside, putting himself between Rochelle and me.
“Marco!” Dad barks. “It’s time for pictures, my boy. The photographer has been waiting. You’re half an hour late.”
Marco shuffles forward and grasps both of Rochelle’s shoulders. “Over here, baby.”
I grab Hunter’s arm and tug him away from the silver backdrop.
“That photographer has his work cut out,” he nearly growls. “Making her look like a blushing bride isn’t going to be easy.”
“Hush.”
He looks at me with slitted eyes, beaming pure mischief.
I grimace and shrug. But deep down, I'm laughing.
He isn't kidding. Rochelle looks like she's wound so tight her head will pop off.
He grins and shakes his head. “Tell me something, Sugar. You got the looks, the personality, and the baking abilities...what'd she get?”
“A temper,” my dad says.
I whip around, squeezing my temples with one hand, before hissing, “Dad! Don't encourage him. If she heard that, you’re both dead. You know that, right?”
They both shrug and then grin at each other as if they couldn’t care less.
“I owe you a beer after all this, Hunter,” Dad says. “More than one for the fish, really. We heard all about the ordeal.”
“I'll have a drink with you anytime, Will,” Hunter says, giving him a fierce handshake.
How is this even happening? This strange, beautiful man not only has a magic ability to make me feel at ease and poke justified fun at my sister at her own freaking wedding...but he's also somehow a natural with my uptight, grump of a father.
I try not to smile. Somehow, it's getting harder by the minute.
The photographer must be a magician, too, because the next time I look back, I'm not the only one holding in a laugh.
Rochelle is smiling. Finally. Preening as he clicks his camera furiously.
The next half hour includes family pictures, which Mother insists on having Hunter in. Then there's another round of pictures with just the four of us: my parents, Rochelle, and me.
I’m simply relieved when our jobs are done, and the photographer continues snapping pics of the wedding party. People are arriving by the time that’s over, so Rochelle is ushered out of the room until it’s time to make her arrival.
Which we all know will be an entrance to remember.
The family table set is close to the center of the room, near the raised archway, where the wedding will be performed. I bite the inside of my cheek as I see the name plates.
Hunter’s just says GUEST,
which makes me glower.
I know Rochelle had them printed last week. After she knew Hunter was attending as my date, and that irritates me.
It’s a table of eight for us. Me and Hunter, Mom and Dad, plus two sets of aunts and uncles. Dad’s brother Sam, his wife Charlotte, and Mom’s brother Joe and his wife Emma.
Marco’s family, his parents and whoever else, are straight across the aisle from us. Marco is busy smiling and visiting with them as Hunter and I sit down.
He walks over to us when he's done, surprisingly.
“I heard about the fish,” Marco says quietly. “Let me know how much I owe you.”
“Nothing.” Hunter sits up straighter, looking him in the eye. “My gift to the happy couple.”
Marco puffs out his chest and lifts his chin. He does that whenever he starts talking about his family’s wealth. Or whenever anyone else questions it in the slightest.
Then I see a familiar wolfish, cocky grin stretch across his broad face.
“Well, then,” he says, nodding at my uncles, but still looking at Hunter. “If you ever make it down to Miami, I’ll take you out on the family yacht. My personal treat for the helping hand.”
Hunter nods, but then says, “Think I had my share of being on the open water while I was in the Marines, but if Wendy wants to go, I’ll fly her down.” He then nods at my aunts and uncles the same way Marco did. “The jet’s big enough for the whole family. Ready to go whenever.”
Sam and Charlotte’s faces light up. I hear several hushed whispers.
I shrivel up a little inside, more out of amusement than pure shock.
Marco’s eyes nearly bug out of his head.
“Jet? Damn. Yeah. It's...it’s almost time,” he stammers, gazing past us. “I'd better get in place.”
No one at the table says a word, but everyone starts laughing, both my aunts and uncles elbowing each other.
Uncle Joe looks at Hunter. “What do you do for a living, Hunter?”
“I'm retired right now, but technically, still the sole owner of a defense systems company. Landmark.”
“Landmark? Landmark Defense? Boy howdy, my broker just bagged me some shares of that!” Joe's eyes light up. “Will told me I had to get in on it. I'm starting to see why.”
“Guilty as charged,” Dad answers with a grin, before turning to Hunter. “Not just because you're an upstanding young man, Hunter, though that certainly helps. I love everything you do. Hell, that YouTube video I saw just last week, where you guys were testing that drone that flies out of the landing craft, holy –”
Hunter raises his hands for a second and then smiles. “Say no more. I know all about our latest promotionals from Research and Development. I hope the shares perform well for both of you gentleman,” Hunter says.
“How'd you meet Wendy, anyway?” Aunt Charlotte asks.
“Pure chance. A little mishap involving my son,” he answers, smiling at me. “Fate, maybe.”
Glancing back to Charlotte, he adds, “Certainly was my lucky day.”
Aunt Emma, never to be outdone, spools up for the next round of questions.
“Oh, my. How old is your boy? You must be busy? How many kids do you have?”
And so begins an interrogation from both my aunts, pecking at anything and everything Hunter Forsythe.
It might be Rochelle’s big day, but at our table, it's clear who's the center of attention.
I'm relieved he handles it so well. Calmly. Coolly. Just sleek, strong, incredible finesse.
I, on the other hand, remain a jumbled mess of nerves.
The way he keeps rubbing my knee doesn’t help one bit.
If it wasn't such a delicious distraction, I might wonder how he does it. How he possibly stays focused on answering my aunts' endless questions, all the while telling my body every mad, indescribable thing he intends to do later.
Fortunately, it isn't long before the music begins.
Rochelle’s grand entrance is a show like no other, her full ensemble filing in ahead, the full band they've hired roaring to life. Later, there's actually something equally sweet and ridiculous. The personally written vows her and Marco share are long winded, adorable, and a little nauseating.
I can’t resist looking at Hunter.
The merriment in his eyes is too much. I bite my lips together and cover my mouth with one hand to hold in a bout of giggles that desperately want out.
My mother elbows me, which only makes it worse.
Hunter puts his arm around my shoulders and tugs me closer. Snug against him.
Thank the Lord. It's just in time to bury my face in his handsome bulk and let a small laugh or two out.
When the preacher finally declares Rochelle and Marco man and wife, I jump to my feet, clapping like crazy because the damn thing is finally over.
“Need a drink?” Hunter asks.
“Hell, yes,” I reply.
The next hour is scheduled as a cocktail hour, and the crowd rushes over to take full advantage of the open bar, including me and Hunter. Rochelle and Marco have positioned themselves at one end of the room, sitting on a rented, elaborate double-chair that looks like a throne stolen from some old castle.
They're expecting everyone to parade past them with congratulations. Probably kneeling.
I choose to take my sweet time, downing a glass of wine instead. Hunter and I stay near the bar, his hand perched on the small of my back, taking me further and further away from this insanity.
I’m on my second glass in no time. Our attempt to work our way back to our table gets hampered by the crowd, who've heard who he is – the owner of a major defense company – and worth more than Marco’s rich family put together.
Yes, that makes a difference to the people in this room.
Hunter knows a few of Marco’s father’s friends and introduces me to them, but for the most part, it’s people from my side who keep pestering him, wondering why he’s here with me.
My younger cousin, Naomi, wearing a black dress that's cut so low her navel almost shows, lets out a high giggle as she lays a hand on Hunter’s arm. “You're such a surprise! Never thought I'd see the day. Our little Wendy is always the loner. Did she tell you?”
Only about a hundred times, bitch. Somehow, I manage to keep the thought to myself, flashing my cousin a smile that's about as friendly as a tiger's.
It’s about the dozenth time he's heard their disbelief, too. I quiver inside at the disdain showing in his eyes.
“I can see why she prefers her own company,” Hunter says coldly.
Naomi, undaunted, grins and side-steps closer to him. “Aw, she loves me. We're like sisters; I can't believe she hasn't mentioned me. Why didn't you introduce me to your new friend sooner, Wendy-girl?”
I don't answer.
I want to slap her, but why? I should've expected this, too. Every woman here who isn't already taken, coming at him like the world's most eligible bachelor.
Ignoring her, Hunter squeezes me closer to his side and kisses the top of my head slowly. “Can't say you didn’t warn me, babe.”
Damn, he’s good. I have to bite my lip at the thrill that jolts through me as he rubs my bare back, his fingers slipping lower, turning me to the side so Naomi can see.
I swear I hear a teakettle going off somewhere. Or is it just her hissing?
At last, he looks up at the succubus I'm ashamed to share blood with. “Don’t worry, Naomi. Our Wendy’s not alone anymore, day or night. Never will be again. She's with me.”
He nudges me forward then. While elbowing our way through the crowd, he says, “Christ. Is every woman in your family crazy except you?”
I don't know how to answer because it might be true.
I'm about to agree when I finally see the one other sane person in the room. My other cousin, Stacy, sitting at a table in the corner with her husband Josh. “No. Let's go meet one more down to Earth.”
“Do I dare trust you?”
I laugh at the twinkle in his eye
.
Stacy stands, a genuine grin on her face, and gives me a hug. “Wendy! I was going to say hi earlier, but you were surrounded.”
“You should've saved me,” I tell her. “Next time, we're working out our signals in advance.”
“Oh, I heard your SOS, but...” She pauses, patting her very round belly. “There are just some things even an unborn child shouldn’t hear.”
I laugh and give her another hug. “I heard you’re expecting again. Congratulations.”
“Heard from my mother?” Stacy rolls her eyes. “She thinks we're crazy, having three kids in this day and age.”
I give her husband Josh a hug. He's a lean, decent-looking man with thick spectacles. “Congratulations to you, too, no matter what Aunt Emma thinks. I’m happy for you guys.”
“Thanks, Wendy,” Josh says. “We've had plenty of practice for raising number three.”
Wrapping an arm around Hunter’s, I nod. “I'd like you to meet Hunter Forsythe. Hunter, these are my cousins, Stacy and Josh Gustafson. The only sane family members you’ll meet here tonight.”
We all laugh and then sit down at their table together when Stacy points at her feet. “I had to take my shoes off half an hour ago. They were absolutely killing me!”
“When's your baby due?” Hunter asks.
“Middle of January,” Stacy says. “Coming up fast.”
“That soon? Wow, I just heard the news a few months ago. It's been a crazy year,” I tell them.
“Yup. Kiddo won't wait much longer.” Stacy and Josh share a private look before she says, “Wendy, there's...something else. Mom didn’t want us to tell anyone, but...”
I can believe that, but I also know Stacy, and now I'm a little worried at whatever she's holding in. “What’s wrong?”
She picks up a glass of water and takes a long sip. “Nothing, maybe.”
“Don’t lie to me, cuz.” I look at Josh seriously. “You either, big boy. Let's hear it.”
He lays his hand on top of Stacy’s. “It's me. I was laid off last week, I'm sorry to say. Which means we won’t have health insurance come January.”
I pinch my eyes shut bitterly. God, what a nightmare.
Stacy shakes her head, rubbing Josh's shoulder. “It'll be fine, I guess. But we can’t afford the Cobra payments. They're just outrageous, even with all the new laws.”