The Wedding Game

by Quinn, Meghan

  “Your eyes are still blurry from sleep.”

  He turns the faucet on and dips his entire head in the sink, getting his face and hair wet. I watch in fascination as he takes a bar of soap, lathers up, and rinses everything out.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask as he dries off and sets his towel to the side.

  “Sink shower.” He picks up his toothbrush and squeezes toothpaste on it. “All-in-one soap bar—works like a charm.” He leans against the counter, his abs contracting as he brushes his teeth.

  Irritated that it’s so easy for men, I finish up my makeup and pack everything up. I glance at my phone. Nine o’clock. We are officially late.

  “Crap. We are so late. I’m, uh . . . I’m going to go, so at least we don’t show up at the same time. See you there.”

  “Hey.” Alec spits out his toothpaste and rinses, snagging my hand at the same time. He pulls me back and wraps his arm around my waist. After wiping his mouth on his arm, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “Thank you.”

  “Oh . . . no big deal,” I say, trying to be as casual as possible.

  “It is a big deal to me.” He smooths his hand up my back, to my neck. “I can’t remember the last time anyone comforted me like that. Thank you, Luna Moon.”

  I lift up on my toes and kiss him, letting myself get lost in his lips for a moment. “I care about you. Don’t forget that.”

  “Never will,” he says, letting me go. “I’ll pace my time out. Be safe getting there.”

  I nod and take off, thinking up all the excuses for why I’m late, and the only thing I can come up with is . . . comforting my broken boyfriend.

  Not sure that’s going to fly. Must do more thinking on the way.

  “Luna, can I speak to you for a second?” Marco Vitally, beloved judge and the paper genius, says.

  What’s he doing here? Judges don’t come in on Sundays. Mary DIY is the only one who has to come in on Sundays, and then she’s mostly in her dressing room. We still haven’t actually met, which is such a disappointment—I really looked up to her. It’s always disappointing when you meet your idol and she turns out to be awful, despite having fantastic taste in macramé.

  Gathering myself after the whirlwind that today has been, I plaster on a smile. “Of course.” Cohen and Declan both shoot me a quizzical look before I follow Marco over to the table where the judges watch the challenges.

  “Take a seat,” he says. He takes a seat as well, but he leaves one chair between us before turning toward me.

  “Different view from here,” I say. “Must be fun to watch us run around like mad people.”

  He chuckles. “It’s pretty comical from this vantage point. Especially when Helen gets on one of her rants—priceless.”

  I laugh along with him. “I’m sure watching Helen sit on me the first week was a high point.”

  “That will go down in history as one of my favorite moments.”

  “One of my most humiliating moments, but I can laugh at it now.”

  “Good to hear.” He clears his throat. “But . . . what I did want to talk about was invitation week.”

  “Oh yeah. I wish I’d had more time to work on the design for Declan and Cohen, but I’m happy with what we could do in the amount of time we had.”

  “It was really impressive, actually.”

  “Oh, really?” I ask, feeling hopeful butterflies float up in my stomach.

  “Yes. I wanted to see what else you design, so I checked out your social media, and you really are the jack of all trades.”

  “I’m a little crazy, so it’s hard to choose a lane sometimes. I just really love creating.”

  He nods. “And that’s what I saw: the love you put into everything you do. I went back to my team and showed them your designs and your work.” Oh God, don’t cry, don’t cry. He showed my stuff to his team . . . don’t freaking cry. “Everyone was gushing over your creative eye and color combinations. We would love to collaborate with you on a new line of wedding invitations.”

  Oh Jesus lord. DO. NOT. CRY.

  “Wow, that’s . . .” My eyes well up. Shit. “That’s . . .” I wave my hand in front of my face, and Marco chuckles softly.

  “It’s okay, Luna, you can cry.”

  Tears roll down my cheeks, and I immediately apologize. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to be emotional, but this show has been challenging, and I think it’s all hitting me at once . . . you want to collaborate?”

  “We do. We want to put a fresh spin on our designs, create a line that’s a little flashier and more modern, edgier. I know you’re working on a rustic wedding for your brother, but the designs in your shop are exactly what we’re looking for when it comes to catering to a modern bride. We want our invitations to speak to brides who aren’t looking for something traditional.”

  “I love the idea, and I’m not just saying that because you want to collaborate with me. I would totally be one of those brides. Bright colors, a graphic feel, but still playful . . .”

  “Precisely.” Marco smiles brightly. “Would you like to come down to the offices after the weddings? We can walk through everything, and you can meet the team. I don’t want to take up your time right now, but once we wrap up, we would really like to sit down and see what we can come up with together.”

  “I would be truly honored,” I say. “This is a dream, Marco—you have no idea.”

  “Well, we’re very excited about you.”

  “Would it be okay if I drew up some ideas in the meantime? I don’t want to get too ahead of myself, but my mind is already racing.”

  “Then let your mind race. Design to your heart’s content. Bring in what you have, and we can go over it.”

  “Fantastic.” We both stand, and Marco holds out his hand, which I take.

  “I’m going to have my team email you some contracts and such so we can get right to work after the show. Does that work?”

  “Send away.” I know someone who can look at them for me . . .

  “All right, have a good week.” He winks. “Rooting for Team Rossi.”

  “Thank you, Marco.” I head back to Cohen and Declan, ready to explode with excitement, when something out of the corner of my eye catches my attention.

  Alec is leaning against a wall, his head in his hand and his shoulders slumped. I hesitate for a second—my first instinct is to go over and comfort him. But then I realize where I am.

  In public.

  “Luna, what was that about?”

  “Huh?” I say, looking away from Alec and toward Cohen and Declan, still at our workbench, waiting impatiently for me to say something. “Oh.” I smile again, but this time it feels a little forced. “Marco wants to collaborate with me on some wedding invitations.”

  “Seriously?” Cohen asks, his face lighting up. “Holy shit, Luna, that’s amazing!”

  He picks me up in a giant hug and spins me around. I meet Alec’s questioning eyes from over Cohen’s shoulder, but Thad calls him into the green room, and he disappears.

  “That’s so great,” Declan says, taking his turn to hug me once Cohen sets me down. “I knew this show would be good for you. I just knew it.”

  “I didn’t apply—”

  “We know, we know,” Declan says with an eye roll, “but you being discovered is a huge bonus.”

  Cohen pulls me into a hug again. “This is amazing. You have to call Mom and Dad tonight and tell them.”

  “I will,” I say, calculating in my head when to call them if they’re currently in Australia. “Hey, when are Mom and Dad getting back?”

  “Talked to them last night. They’re headed home the Monday before the wedding, and they said they have lots of Vegemite for us.”

  “Oh . . . wonderful.” I laugh and let out a long sigh, pressing my hand to my stomach. “Wow, okay, I was not expecting that.”

  “Neither was I,” Cohen says. “But I’m not surprised either. You’re amazing, sis.”

  “You’re pretty ama
zing yourself.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  ALEC

  “Next week is our last week before the weddings. Please be on time,” Diane says, looking directly at me. As if I’ve never been on time. One fucking day. One fucking day I’m late, and now I’m the person who gets scolded. I wasn’t even that late. Just twenty minutes late, but I received quite the look from Helen, who had to do her interview first this go-around in my absence—heaven forbid—and the cold shoulder from Thad.

  Just add it to the shit-filled twenty-four hours I’m having.

  The only good thing about all of this . . . the girl who’s packing up her bag and avoiding all eye contact with me. I got her text last night, but I didn’t want to drag her into the dark hole I was headed down, and I sure as shit didn’t want her to see the emotions I was holding at bay. And yet, I should have known she was going to show up at my door—because that’s the kind of girl she is. Loving, caring, a fixer.

  Seeing her walk into my apartment cracked me open. I tried to avoid my emotions, wash them away with a bottle of whiskey, but it didn’t work. Instead, I broke down in front of her. When she could have turned away, she didn’t. She held my hand; she listened to me. And then she did the best thing she could have done for me in that moment.

  She stayed.

  She held me.

  She made me feel worthy of someone’s love.

  And even though this morning was stressful, she still took the time to comfort me one last time before she took off.

  Within the last twenty-four hours, I’ve realized two things: my mom still doesn’t care about me—never has, probably never will—and Luna Rossi is cementing herself in my heart, which I was never expecting. Not because I didn’t think Luna was a forever kind of girl, but because I didn’t think I was the kind of guy who could let someone into his heart in the first place. I wasn’t sure I was capable of the kind of feelings I have for Luna—nor did I think I wanted those feelings.

  As the set begins to empty out, I want to call out to her, take her hand, and let everyone know that this is my girl.

  My fucking girl.

  My fucking girl, who looked really excited just now, and I couldn’t even ask her why.

  “Hear that?” Thad mutters beside me. “Be on time.”

  Yeah, Thad has been a bitch this entire day, putting on a smile for the camera but undercutting me every chance he gets when the red light isn’t on. It’s been . . . fun. *Insert sarcastic thumbs-up here*

  “Safe travels, everyone. We will see you next week. Hope no one is getting cold feet,” Diane says before taking off, Marco and Mary DIY already gone.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Thad says to Naomi, turning toward the exit, but she stops him with a hand to his arm.

  “Hold on a second.” She holds my gaze. “Alec, is everything okay?”

  “He’s clearly hungover, Naomi.” Thad gestures to me as I sit on one of our workbench stools. “I can smell the booze on him, under all the aftershave he thinks is covering it up. He doesn’t care about this, so why should we care about him?”

  “He’s trying, Thad.”

  “Is he?” Thad shoots back, but he stares at me while he says it. “One week he cared. One week he made it seem like he’d really changed, but now it just seems like he’s taking after our dad, brushing me off and drinking too much.”

  “Thad,” Naomi chastises.

  “It’s fine.” I stand from the stool and move away from them, hand in my hair. “Maybe you’re right, Thad—maybe I was following in Dad’s footsteps, but I know one thing: he never would have shown up to this . . . and neither would Mom. I’d think about what someone might be going through before making yourself the victim.” I nod at Naomi. “See you next week.”

  As I turn and walk away, I hear Naomi mutter to Thad to go after me, but no footsteps follow me, and that’s fine. Right now, I just want to go back to my apartment and try to figure out what the hell I’m going to do to make this all better.

  Luna: Farrah wants you to come over. She says she has a right hook she wants to test out on you.

  Alec: As appealing as that sounds, it’s better if I stay here. Alone. Not in the best mood.

  Luna: Want me to come over?

  Alec: I would give anything right now to have your body on top of mine and my hands up your shirt, but it wouldn’t be for the right reasons. Plus, you should probably give Farrah some attention if she’s gearing up a right hook. Might need some Luna Moon love.

  Luna: Farrah has enjoyed the alone time. Don’t tell her I told you this, but she mentioned being able to masturbate in peace.

  Alec: LOL. Okay, I just spit water down my shirt.

  Luna: Oh no, you’re going to have to take off your shirt now. What a shame.

  Alec: You’re not even here to enjoy the show.

  Luna: No, but you can send me a picture . . . *prayer hands*

  Alec: [picture] My girl asks, my girl gets.

  Luna: *sigh* You even got your nipples in the shot. I really like your nipples. Not too small and not too big, the perfect size for a man.

  Alec: Thank you?

  Luna: Ha ha. You’re welcome. But seriously, I can come over, we can talk . . .

  Alec: How did I know you were going to say that?

  Luna: Bottling it up is not going to help, Alec.

  Alec: I know, Luna Moon. Just give me a little bit of time, okay? Everything is so raw right now, shit is floating up from the past, Thad is . . . hell, he’s being Thad but on a whole new level. I just need a second to breathe.

  Luna: I understand. But I’m here for you if you need me.

  Alec: I know. Want to go out tomorrow? Someplace nice?

  Luna: Are you asking me out on a date?

  Alec: I am.

  Luna: I might be interested.

  Alec: You better be. I really want to take you out.

  Luna: Well, if you REALLY want to take me out, then I guess I don’t have a choice. What time?

  Alec: Seven. I’ll pick you up. Farrah can show me her right hook, and then we can head out.

  Luna: I just told Farrah that and she immediately stood up and started jabbing the air. I’m going to take that as a yes.

  Alec: Perfect. Hey, I meant to ask, what was all the excitement about today on set?

  Luna: Tell you about it tomorrow.

  Alec: Okay. Have a good night, Luna Moon.

  Luna: You too.

  Note to self: drinking heavily is no longer in my repertoire. Two days after my night of Jack Daniel’s, and I’m still feeling like utter shit. I know some of the blame has to go on my family baggage, but 90 percent of the blame goes on the whiskey—because holy fuck, my body is feeling it.

  My muscles ache.

  My head still hurts.

  And if I sniff just right, I can still smell the booze clinging to my body, despite the many showers I’ve taken.

  Taking a deep breath, I gulp some more water down and try to focus on the private investigator report spread out on my desk.

  Concentrate, Baxter.

  The words swim together, Ts looking like Ls and Ms looking like Ws. Wow, this is worse than I thought.

  I lean back in my chair as my office phone rings.

  “Hello?”

  “Alec, I have Naomi here to see you?” our receptionist, Anita, says. “Do you have time to meet with her?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I say, surprised. “Send her back.”

  I stand from my desk and take another sip of water. I consider putting my suit jacket back on, but she’s about to be my sister-in-law, so there’s no need for formality. Instead, I push my sleeves up farther and am grabbing a water from my minifridge for her just as she knocks on the door and steps inside.

  “Hey, Naomi,” I say, feeling a little awkward, given how we ended things yesterday. “How are you?”

  “Good.” She shuts the door behind her. “I’m sorry about stopping by uninvited, but I figured this would be the best way to talk to you . . . without
Thad.”

  I nod and offer her a seat along with the water I pulled from the fridge. She sits down and sighs, leaning back, her hand to her rounded belly. “Do you happen to have anything to eat? I forgot a snack, and this baby is sucking me dry.”

  I chuckle and head toward the cabinets next to my minifridge. “How about some trail mix?”

  “Is there chocolate in it?”

  “What’s trail mix without chocolate?” I say, grabbing a bag for each of us.

  “A boring healthy snack.”

  “Exactly.”

  She tears open her package and tips it directly into her mouth.

  “I might need another one,” she says after chewing and swallowing. “But let’s see how this first one goes.”

  “I have plenty.” I chuckle as I take a seat on the chair across from her.

  “What a hostess.”

  With the moistest . . . I inwardly laugh.

  “Not to be rude, Naomi, but why are you here?”

  “Yes, let’s get down to business.” She takes a sip of water and then crosses one leg over the other. “What happened on Saturday? You were off. And then you showed up late on Sunday—that’s not like you.”

  “Just—”

  “And don’t lie to me. We might not know each other as well as I wish we did, but I’d at least hope you wouldn’t lie to me.”

  Man, she’s a tough one. I can’t imagine what living with her must be like. Thad probably can’t get away with anything.

  I have two options here: I can lie through my teeth and let her believe it was some work thing, or I can be open with Naomi and hope this helps me get a bit closer to Thad. Option one is easier, but option two might settle some of the rattling that seems to be going on in my hollow chest.

  I sigh and lean my forearms on my knees. “You know how we were allowed to invite people to set on Saturday?”

  “Yeah, Helen brought her uninterested husband with the hairy ears. I can see why she’s such a pill.”

  “Is that who that was?”

  Naomi nods. “Oh yeah, Barry, I believe his name is. I had the distinct pleasure of being introduced to him while I was trying to run to the bathroom before we started filming. But that’s not what we should be talking about. Did you invite someone?”