by Meghan Quinn
“It terrified me when I saw her at first,” Thad adds.
“I heard your gasp,” Naomi says, chuckling. “I think the entire wedding gasped the minute the doors opened, revealing her hairdo. I wonder if she’s hiding something under there.”
“Yes,” I say, snapping my fingers at Naomi. “She’s hiding something. What could it be?”
Naomi taps her chin. “A camera? Maybe she’s going undercover for The Wedding Game, trying to get some dirt for them. If she starts asking us questions about the show, be on guard.”
“Good point.”
“Could be vodka, since they went cheap on the bar selection,” Thad says, eyeing his Bud Light. “Not even an IPA. I thought this was a wedding for lesbians. Aren’t they supposed to love IPAs?”
“Not all lesbians wear tool belts and drink IPAs,” Naomi says, rolling her eyes. “You should know that after spending two months with them.”
“But come on . . . Bud Light?” Thad says just as Cohen and Declan step up to our table.
Oh fuck. My back stiffens, and I glance around for Luna. But I don’t see her.
“What are you talking about over here?” Declan asks, so casual.
“What Helen is hiding in her hair,” Naomi answers before sipping on her iced tea.
Cohen and Declan both look toward Helen and chuckle. “Probably a microphone. I can imagine her trying to serenade Luciana and Amanda later,” Cohen says.
“Or an emergency kit,” Declan adds. “You know how serious she is about everything going right.”
“Did you check out the cake?” Naomi asks, pointing with her iced tea.
We all turn toward the dilapidated cake—a lopsided three-tiered monstrosity with frosting that seems to be melting off by the minute.
Declan chuckles. “I was talking with a PA earlier who was there while they filmed making the cake. He said Helen was a rabid beast in the kitchen and wound up making everything worse.”
“Shocking,” Thad says with a snort and then glances at Declan and Cohen again. “Where’s your sister?”
“Seems like she must have come down with the same thing Alec had yesterday. Went home early.”
I wince. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah, what did they say was going around, again?” Cohen asks Declan, who rubs the side of his jaw, really thinking about it.
“What was it? Ah—” He snaps his fingers. “Wasn’t it a case of being lovesick?”
“I think that’s what it was, right, Alec?” Cohen asks, his eyes boring into mine.
“Lovesick?” Thad scoffs. “Alec isn’t lovesick.”
I chew on my bottom lip and take a sip of my beer, trying to avoid eye contact with everyone at the cocktail table.
“Alec isn’t lovesick,” Thad repeats. “That’s over, right? It’s been over.”
“Thad,” Naomi murmurs, gripping his arm. “Maybe we should go take a walk and have a conversation.” She takes his hand and they walk off, leaving me with Cohen and Declan.
I clear my throat. “Nice wedding, huh? Think it has a chance at winning?”
“What are you doing about my sister?” Cohen asks.
Well, he just gets straight to the point, doesn’t he?
“Uh, what do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Are you going to make a move?”
I glance between the two men, their faces completely serious. I think about what they said: that Luna has the same “illness” as me.
Luna lovesick?
Yeah, pretty sure that’s one of the most inaccurate statements ever made. I saw the look in her eyes yesterday, the shield she put up. I heard the dismissal in her voice.
I set my beer down on the table and shake my head. “No, I’m not. Not sure what she said to you, but she made it abundantly clear that getting involved was a mistake, and her radio silence leads me to believe that wasn’t just a passionate, in-the-moment kind of statement.” I shift, trying to hide the hurt in my eyes, the devastation in the set of my shoulders.
“I see,” Cohen says, so calmly that it almost freaks me out. “So you have no intention of trying to win my sister’s heart?”
“Uh . . . I mean, I kind of got the impression that she didn’t even want me near her. I’m all for following my heart, but I also know a lost cause when I see one.”
“And following your heart would be what?”
I pull on the back of my neck, trying not to let my annoyance get the best of me. “With all due respect, I don’t think this is any of your business. She doesn’t want anything to do with me, and I’m going to respect that.”
Cohen nods. “Well, has anything changed since you came to our apartment? Do you still love her?”
I chuckle as I look to the side. “Let me ask you something, Cohen. Would the love you have for Declan just automatically disappear within a week?”
“It wouldn’t.”
“Then there you go.” I give them a salute. “See you around, boys.”
I take off before they can say anything. I consider leaving the wedding completely, entirely too grumpy and “lovesick” to be there, but I know that wouldn’t go over well with the producers—I can’t handle any more disapproval from Diane—especially since Luna already left. So, I find the appetizer buffet, fill up a plate, and hunker down in a dark corner, where I eat away my feelings.
With a deep breath, I open the door to the groom’s suite of the old warehouse in Meatpacking, and I’m greeted with wall-to-wall brick, masculine furniture, and a poker table surrounded by leather-upholstered chairs. Thad hasn’t arrived yet, but according to his itinerary, he’ll be here any moment.
I woke up this morning with a horrible headache. It had nothing to do with alcohol and everything to do with the stress and anxiety clawing at me all night. Things are still weird with Thad, which is going to make the next few hours—where we get ready, just the two of us—beyond uncomfortable. Today is technically the last day I’ll see Luna, and that added a whole new layer of agony to last night.
But I can’t focus on that. I need to be here for Thad.
I set the box of stuff I brought with me on the table and start taking everything out.
A six-pack of Thad’s favorite IPA.
Some wings from his favorite bar, where we used to go when I was in college.
A plastic crown, because lord knows he’ll want to wear it and feel like a king.
A deck of cards, in case he wants to pass the time like we used to.
And the cuff links from my college graduation.
I set the box to the side just as the door opens. Thad’s suit hook is hanging from his finger, the garment bag draped over his shoulder. His hair isn’t styled yet, nor has he shaved, but that’s because I have someone coming in to do all of that for us.
“Hey,” I say, hands on my hips, hoping my little setup doesn’t look too lame.
He hooks his suit onto a hanger on the wall and then studies the table. “What’s all this?”
“Uh, you know, just some things to help you relax before the big ceremony. I know how you can get nervous, especially in front of a bunch of people.” He doesn’t say anything, so I start pointing out what everything is, as if he can’t see it already. “Got your favorite indie, some wings from that place you love. Uh, the crown is to make you feel special, and the cards are to pass the time.” I scratch the back of my neck, feeling like an idiot. “And these.” I pick up the cuff links and swallow hard. “These are Grandpa’s cuff links, the ones I wore for college graduation. Thought they might be special to you, if you wanted to wear them.”
Thad takes the black velvet box from me. It creaks as he opens it up. He picks up a cuff link and brings it closer to examine the intricate B design. “You brought these for me?”
“Yeah. I know the bride is supposed to have something borrowed, but I thought it might be nice for you to have something as well.”
Thad examines the cuff link a little bit longer before putting it back in its box,
not saying a word. He sets the box down and just stands there, quietly, showing a side I’m not used to. I’ve only seen him this reserved a few other times—the first was when our parents told us they were getting divorced. The second was when I told him I was leaving for college, and then the third time was on the day I left.
“Thad.” He looks up. Tears well in his eyes, and before I can ask him what’s wrong, he steps forward and wraps his arms around me with such force that I stumble backward.
Once I regain my balance, I wrap my arms around him as well and give him the kind of hug I haven’t given him since we were kids.
“Fuck,” he mutters, holding me tight. “I just wanted you to care about me. About my life.”
“I do, Thad,” I say, fucking grateful he’s actually talking to me. “I know it might not have seemed like it, but I care. I care so fucking much.”
“I see it.” His voice is clogged with emotion. “I feel it.” He pulls away and wipes at his eyes. “And that photo album. You motherfucker. You made me sob in Naomi’s arms.”
I laugh so loudly that the sound is almost foreign. I was not expecting that kind of relief to come out of me, but it feels good.
“I knew it would. I was going for the high emotional factor.”
“Which I knew you were doing, but that didn’t mean you were sorry—it just meant you were trying to make me cry.”
I roll my eyes. “Dude, I went to Mom’s place to get those pictures. I stayed up late scrapbooking that shit. I cared.”
Thad shakes his head and holds up the cuff links. “No, this means you care. This was thoughtful, this is something a dad would give me, and what my big brother, Alec, the one who raised me, would give me.”
Hell. My throat grows tight.
“I love you, Thad,” I say, and his eyes start to water again. “I want to be a part of your life, and I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to realize it.”
“I love you too.” He pulls me into a hug again, and we pat it out a few more times before breaking apart and cracking open a beer for each of us.
We each take a seat and open up the wings.
“So just like that, we’re good?” I ask, feeling slightly uneasy.
“Yup.” He bites into a wing.
“So if I brought you the cuff links earlier, you would have forgiven me sooner?”
“Yup.”
“So I scrapbooked for nothing?”
“Hell no, that’s my coffee-table book now.”
“Great.” I roll my eyes and take a sip of beer, letting it mix with the spicy hot sauce on my tongue.
“Maybe it’s that easy with Luna—ever think about giving her cuff links?” I raise a brow at him, and he softens. “Naomi has been relentless about you and Luna. Dude . . . you love her?”
“Why don’t we focus on you getting married, and save my issues for another day.”
Thad pops the crown onto his head. “Okay, but don’t think I’m going to drop this. If you love her, then we have to get her back . . . even if she’s going to win the entire competition for her brother.”
“You never know—we still have a chance.”
Thad scoffs. “We can pretty much pull anything off, but those hot-pink bow ties and cummerbunds are going to do us in.”
“Hell . . . I forgot about those.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
LUNA
“Flashy.”
“Slightly gaudy.”
“Interesting . . .”
“Garish.”
“Why do I think the flamingos work?”
Declan and Cohen stare at the reception space with open mouths. Flamingo Dancer somehow works . . .
Feathers are scattered everywhere. It looks like they repurposed feather boas into garlands, there are added ruffles on the back of every chair—a detail I apparently missed on their vision board—and giant disco balls hang from the ceiling . . . where did they get those?
And oddly enough, it feels loving, spot on, and so Thad and Naomi. It might not be my style, or anyone’s for that matter, but it’s them, and that’s what the competition is really about. About the couples.
“Why do I feel like this wedding is more suited for gay men?” Declan asks, nodding toward a feather centerpiece that’s crowding our small cocktail table.
“Because it is,” Cohen says just as a waiter comes up with a tray of coconut shrimp. We each take a piece and bite into it. Surprisingly, it’s really good.
“How did they keep this all under budget?” Declan asks.
“Didn’t use real flowers,” I say, scanning the room, unsure of what to look at next. “I think it’s the uplighting that’s getting me.”
“I think that’s it too,” Declan says with a nod. “Lime-green and pink—really interesting choices for colors. It’s making us all look sickly.”
“Yeah, that’s a good way to describe it.”
“Ceremony was great,” Declan says, pressing his hand to his heart. “Thad breaking down was so endearing. The guy might be a little much, but you can tell he truly adores Naomi.”
“He does,” Cohen says and then nudges my shoulder with his. “Doesn’t hurt that his best man was total eye candy up there, even if he was wearing a hot-pink cummerbund.”
“Yeah, I might have stared a few times,” Declan says. “That beard is totally working for him—brings the whole Chris Evans thing to life. Don’t you think, Luna?”
I hate them both.
I’m already on the verge of a mental breakdown after seeing Alec and not being able to do anything about it. I don’t need these two knuckleheads recapping how handsome Alec looked standing next to Thad. The pride on his face as he watched his brother get married was beautiful. And the handshake they shared afterward, which was followed by a giant hug . . . I teared up, knowing they’d worked things out.
And I guess that’s all that really matters: Thad and Alec having a relationship. I know how much that means to Alec. It might have come at a cost, but family is worth everything.
“Are you not going to comment on how handsome Alec looked?” Declan asks.
“Why should I? You two are gushing enough for me.”
“Oh, she’s spicy today,” Cohen says, laughing.
“When is she not spicy?” Declan asks between sips of his strawberry margarita, one of the wedding’s two signature cocktails. Team Baxter chose to go with two signature liquor drinks and then fountain drinks, a cheaper option, but not as cheap as Team Hernandez’s, who served absolute piss for drinks—Declan’s words, not mine.
“Does this mean you’re not going to go up and talk to him?”
“No way in hell,” I say, wishing I had another one of those coconut shrimps. I glance around the room, searching for a waiter, but finding anyone feels next to impossible with all the dramatic lighting. A little overboard, maybe.
“Interesting,” Cohen says, using the exact tone of voice he knows drives me nuts—elusive, but with a hidden meaning behind it.
I bite. “What?”
“Oh . . . nothing.”
“Stop it.” I practically stomp my foot. “If you want to say something, then just say it.”
“I don’t know if I should. What do you think, Declan?”
He shrugs. “I’m not sure she’s stable enough to hear it.”
“Hear what?” I look between the two men, loving them and hating them at the same time.
“Well, we happened to have a conversation with Alec after you left yesterday.”
“You what?” I ask as fear creeps up my spine. “You didn’t say anything about me, did you?”
“What kind of brother would I be if I did that? Nah, I just asked if he still loved you.”
I gulp.
My breath comes out in short, quick bursts.
My pulse picks up, the thump thump of it almost blocking out all the noise around me.
“What, uh . . . what did he say?” I ask casually; at least I think it was casual, until Declan and Cohen both laugh out loud.<
br />
“I don’t think she deserves to know,” Cohen says.
“Oh look, her face is turning red . . . or is that the lights?”
“Enough!” I shout, startling both of them. “Just tell me what he said.”
Cohen smiles widely. “He still loves you.” My heart literally skips a beat—I feel it leap in my chest. “But he thinks you want nothing to do with him, so he’s not making a move. He shut the door on the opportunity and claims he doesn’t want to bother you.”
“Oh God,” I whisper, looking out toward the crowd.
“They’re taking pictures,” Declan says, “but they should be announced back into the room soon.”
“He . . . he loves me?”
“Didn’t know that?”
I shake my head, tears welling in my eyes for what feels like the hundredth time this week.
He loves me. I never expected him to feel that way about me, especially after everything I said to him. Even still, I need to hear it from him.
Not from my brother.
Not from Declan.
I need to hear those words straight from Alec’s mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen, can we clear the dance floor?” the DJ says into the microphone as Hall & Oates’ “You Make My Dreams Come True” starts playing. “We’re ready to get this party started, but first, I want to introduce the best man and the matron of honor. Put your hands together and please welcome Sarah Wilson and Alec Baxter.”
The doors leading outside open, and Alec walks in with Sarah on his arm. They do a cute shimmy together. I can’t help but feel a surge of jealousy as they laugh at each other, but the minute they part, Sarah goes straight to her husband’s arms, while Alec awkwardly stands next to them, clapping with the rest of the crowd.
“They don’t need much of a bridal party because they have all the love in this room,” the DJ says, “so moving on to the main event, let’s welcome the bride and groom, Mr. and Mrs. Thaddeus Baxter.”
The room hollers with excitement as Thad and Naomi come charging through the doors, Naomi on Thad’s back, whipping him in the butt with her bouquet as they gallop onto the dance floor.
All three of us, along with everyone else, laugh, and then the music dies down into a slow song.