Three Stupid Weddings

by Ann Gallagher

  Her husband nodded dutifully and headed over to where a couple of guys were struggling to maneuver a white lattice archway.

  Vic instantly sobered and looked in the direction she’d pointed. To me, he said, “I’ll be back.”

  “Do you need help?” I asked.

  “Nah. We’re good.” He gave me a quick smile, then hurried after his dad.

  As soon as Vic was out of earshot, his sister turned to me and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “Between you and me, I’m so glad he’s here with you and not Max.”

  My heart skipped. “Really?”

  “Ugh. Yeah. That guy was such a jerk. Victor deserves so much better.” She gave my arm a little squeeze. “So I’m really glad you’re here.”

  “She’s right,” Karen said. “After that son of a bitch, Vic deserves to be with someone like you.”

  I smiled despite the ache in my chest.

  I just wish he really was with me.

  Chapter 5

  Vic

  “If tonight was a long one,” I groaned as I toed off my sneakers, “tomorrow might last forever.”

  Dom laughed. He put his wallet and phone on the nightstand, then sat beside me on the bed. “But tomorrow there will be an open bar and a dancefloor.” He bumped his shoulder against mine. “And cake.”

  I snorted. “You really do get excited about wedding cake, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah.” He grinned. “What’s not to love? Especially since it’s usually decorated within an inch of its life, so you don’t have to brawl with someone to get the one corner that actually has a frosting flower on it.”

  “I hadn’t thought about that.”

  “Go to as many weddings as my family’s had in the last ten years, and you start looking for every perk you can find.”

  “I could think of worse perks than a cake.”

  “Right?” He glanced at his phone, then furrowed his brow at the screen before he started thumbing a message.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yep.” He sent the message and put the phone facedown on the nightstand. “Just a text from the cat sitter.”

  “Uh-oh. What did Wicket destroy this time?”

  “She knocked a pile of magazines off the coffee table.”

  “Again?”

  “My own fault for leaving them there. I really should put them somewhere else.”

  I chuckled. “You know she’ll just find them and knock them over anyway.”

  “Yeah, probably.” Dom groaned as he lay back on the bed. “Oh, this mattress is nice.”

  “Isn’t it? Of course they waited to buy this until after I moved out.” I huffed with mock indignance and lay down beside him. “The mattress I had was rock hard.”

  “You like rock hard mattresses, though.”

  “Not that hard.”

  “Diva.”

  “Eh, I don’t deny it.”

  He laughed softly, stretched his arm across the pillows, and beckoned. “Come here.”

  Didn’t have to tell me twice. I pulled the sheet up over us—it was too hot for anything more—and rested my head on Dom’s chest. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders, I draped mine across his stomach, and despite the warmth, I didn’t mind his body heat. He didn’t seem to mind mine either.

  Wow, this was nice, and not just because it was a break from a whole day of go, go, go. Up until just now, I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed the simple act of cuddling up against someone. Max hadn’t been a big cuddler. We’d had sort of an unspoken agreement early on that we’d have sex even though it wasn’t really my thing, and we’d cuddle even though that wasn’t really his thing. I didn’t mind sex and he didn’t mind cuddling, so it had been a fair trade as far as I was concerned. Started out that way, anyway. I wasn’t sure when, but that arrangement had started getting really one-sided after awhile. Tonight, I loved this feeling of finally being held by someone who seemed to actually like it.

  I also loved the feeling of cuddling with Dom again. Max had always hated how physical Dom and I were together, so we’d pretty much stopped until the night Max left. I’d cried on Dom’s shoulder because I’d been stupidly devastated to lose that jackass, and from that night on, we’d been back to the way things had always been. Sometimes I still wondered how I would have made it through that night if my best friend hadn’t been so effortlessly touchy-feely.

  Or how I’d make it through this summer’s weddings if he weren’t so willing to step in and ward off attempts at matchmaking.

  “Thanks again,” I whispered. “For…” Everything. Being here. Being you. “Coming with me.”

  He hugged me a little closer. “Don’t mention it.”

  What in the world would I do without you, Dom?

  ~*~

  Dom was lucky. Since he wasn’t a member of the wedding party or immediately family, he could get away with wearing something a lot lighter than my tux. In the bedroom we were sharing, he fussed with his cufflinks. He looked good like that, with a perfectly knotted tie and tailored vest and trousers.

  Meanwhile I stood in front of the mirror, stealing glances at him in between scrutinizing how my rented tux fit. Was this the right jacket? Maybe I should have gone for the other one. Not that I could do much about it now, but I didn’t want to spend the whole day quietly wondering if I looked like a dumpster fire.

  “They didn’t have anything more flattering?” I could hear Max saying. I could feel the weight of his critical down-up look. “I mean, this might work after another couple of weeks at the gym, but right now it’s—”

  “Wow.” Dom’s voice startled me. “That is definitely the right coat for you.”

  I blinked. “It… It is?”

  “Oh yeah.” He gestured at it. “When you return it, you should get all the information so if you decide to buy one, you can get one like it.”

  “Oh.” I looked down at the coat, which did sit pretty nicely and didn’t have any weird puckers or bunching. It was tight where it needed to be, loose where it was supposed to be. “Yeah. I guess…that would be a good idea, wouldn’t it?”

  “Well, it would save you from having to try on eight million of them again. You already know what works, so why change it?”

  “Good point.” I tugged at the jacket sleeve. “So, you really think this one works?”

  Dom nodded. “Oh yeah. I mean, it wouldn’t hurt to check out some other materials and colors just to see if you like one better, or if you want something lighter, but the cut? It’s perfect.”

  And so is your timing.

  Good God, I could have kissed the man. Right when I needed it most, he came along and chased away Max’s voice like the verbal equivalent of a flyswatter scattering a cloud of mosquitoes. The buzzing was still there, but it wasn’t right in my ear anymore.

  I took a deep breath as I checked myself in the mirror, and…yeah. He was right. This tux looked fine. I would definitely be making a note of the style and measurements so I could buy one like it.

  But not right now. We had a wedding to get to.

  Chapter 6

  Dom

  The wedding was gorgeous, if sweltering—just like poor Vic. He looked fantastic in that tux, but by the time the ceremony was over, I thought he was going to keel over from the heat inside the stuffy church. Outside wasn’t much better, and it was only going to get worse as the afternoon wore on. Vic’s fair skin was flushed and sweaty, and when I offered him a bottle of water, he inhaled most of it in two or three swallows.

  “My sister owes me so big,” he muttered into the bottle. “I mean, we’re talking life-sized Storm Trooper costume for Christmas. She owes me.”

  “Yeah, she does. Along with every other guy in the wedding party.”

  We watched the bride and groom posing for photos with their dozen attendants. The women all looked perfectly comfortable. The bridesmaids had on short dresses with spaghetti straps, and the bride had on a sleeveless dress. The groom and groomsmen must have been miserable in
their tuxes—more than a few tugged at collars and grimaced in between posing. Vic’s four year-old nephew looked close to a tantrum, and I doubted many of the groomsmen were far behind him.

  “I don’t think she realized how hot it was going to be,” Vic said. “She’s not evil like that.”

  I nodded. Andrea did shoot her new husband and his groomsmen some sympathetic grimaces. She’d seemed nice enough, and they’d probably been planning this during a cooler time of year. One of those periods when it’s cold and gray and miserable in the Pacific Northwest, and it’s almost impossible to imagine there will ever be a time when the weather might be hotter than Satan’s butt crack. Good thing the caterers seemed to be stocking everything with ice cold beverages.

  Vic joined the family for some formal photos, and after another half an hour, everyone was finally turned loose for the reception. The couple went off for some photos together, but the rest of us headed for the tables and chairs set up under some streamers and paper lanterns. All the men in tuxes immediately started peeling off their jackets, the relief palpable in their faces.

  “Ahhh,” Vic sighed happily and draped his jacket over the back of his chair. “Much better.” He looked down as he smoothed his shirt, and in an instant, the relief vanished from his expression. He pulled in his stomach—not that he needed to—and straightened a wrinkle in his shirt. One that could, at a glance, be mistaken for a roll rather than just some puckered fabric. His eyes flicked toward the jacket he’d just discarded, and he pursed his lips. Was he actually considering putting it back on?

  I touched his arm. “They have more cold water at one of the bars. Why don’t we go grab a couple?”

  Vic looked at me like he’d forgotten I was even there. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds good.” He gave the jacket another look, chewing his lip uneasily.

  I’d learned early on that the best way to derail his body image spiral was to divert his attention by any means necessary, so I pretended not to notice and gestured toward the bars. “Come on. I need some water before I keel over.”

  He nodded, eyed the jacket for another second, and then followed me.

  It was easy to keep him distracted after that. Standing in line at the bar meant conversations with other guests, and conversations with other guests meant telling wild stories about our shenanigans over the years. Before I knew it, it was dinnertime. As we sat down to eat, I worried his demons might come rushing back to the surface, but he was engrossed in conversation with a couple of the groom’s relatives, and when our food was served, he only hesitated for a moment before he started eating.

  So, I relaxed, started on my own dinner, and silently sent up another “fuck you” to Vic’s asshole ex-boyfriend.

  ~*~

  “We should dance.”

  Vic’s suggestion caught me off guard. We’d been lounging at our table after dinner, enjoying a couple of drinks while guests mingled and danced.

  “You think so?” I asked.

  “Why not?”

  “Your family won’t get upset? About…two guys?”

  Smiling, Vic rose and held out his hand. “Honey, they already know we’re here as a couple.”

  “Yeah, but…” I flicked my eyes toward the area that had been designated as a dancefloor. “Are you sure?”

  “It’s fine.” He beckoned with this outstretched fingers. “Come on.”

  He knew his family, and they’d certainly been fine with us so far. It was just old habit, I guess. Years of practice being nervous about queer affection in public.

  I trusted Vic, though, so I stood. Heart thumping, I put my hand in his and let him lead me out onto the sparsely crowded dancing area. It was a patch of tamped down grass between a couple of big maple trees. During the day, it had been only partially shaded from the bright sunlight, but now it was lit up by a crown of lights strung from tree branches. Once we’d found some space between swaying couples, Vic draped his arms over my shoulders, and I wrapped mine around his waist.

  The deejay was playing a soft country ballad. It wasn’t one I knew, but it was nice, and so was dancing with Vic. If I squinted hard enough, I could even pretend we weren’t putting on a show and keeping up the illusion of being a couple.

  In my arms, Vic sighed happily and looked in my eyes. “Thank you again. For coming to this.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’m having a really good time.”

  God, his smile. It had been a long time since I’d seen this much life in his eyes, and I was pretty sure it wasn’t just the champagne.

  And somehow, that settled all my worries about whether I was cut out for the job of pretend boyfriend. Just seeing Vic this happy and relaxed at an event he’d been stressing about? As hard as it was to pretend to be the person I wished I was, I decided right then and there that it was totally worth it. The only thing in this world I wanted more than Vic was for Vic to be happy, and tonight he was. Good enough for me.

  As we slowly danced along the edges of the crowd, the photographer materialized beside us. “You gentlemen mind if I take a picture?”

  Vic looked at me. I shrugged. To the photographer, he said, “Not at all.” Then he reeled me in closer, rested his head under my chin, and I didn’t have to put on a smile for the camera at all because it was impossible not to smile when I had Vic hugging me like that. I didn’t even care if we were fake boyfriends right then. We were real friends, and we were both happy tonight.

  The flash went off, blinding me for a second.

  “Perfect, thanks!” The photographer lowered his camera. “You guys look great!”

  My face burned, and Vic’s freckled cheeks turned a little pink. As the photographer wandered away, we resumed dancing.

  “I so want a copy of that picture,” I said. “Tell your sister I’m happy to pay for one.”

  “I will. And I want one too.”

  “Ooh, does this mean I get a spot on your mirror at work?” I’d been to Vic’s salon a few times, and he had dozens of pictures taped to the edges of the mirror by his chair.

  “A spot? Pfft. I swear you’re in half the pictures I already have.”

  “What? No way.”

  “Oh come on. You know you are. I even have a picture of your cat up there.”

  “You do?”

  “Of course. That one I took of her standing up like Godzilla when she was a kitten? It was too hilarious not to add to the mirror.”

  “Oh yeah.” I laughed. “I didn’t realize that one had made the cut.”

  “Are you kidding? My clients are always raving about how adorable she is.”

  I shot him a playful glare. “You don’t tell her she’s your cat, do you?”

  “What? Of course not.” He paused. “I tell them all she’s an Instagram kitty and I shamelessly stole her photo.”

  “I wouldn’t actually be surprised if you did that.”

  He laughed. Then he nodded toward the area where all the tables had been set up, and he flashed me a wicked grin. “Hey, I believe you were promised some wedding cake.”

  The bride and groom had cut the cake earlier, but then there’d been dinner, toasts, socializing, and now dancing, and I’d actually forgotten about it until now. “Yes. Yes I was.”

  “Well, far be it from me to keep you away from something I promised.” He winked, then took my hand and led me back off the dancefloor.

  Considering how many people were here, and how long it had been since dessert had been served, there was a surprising amount of cake left. Awesome.

  Vic grabbed a couple of plates. “There.” He held one out and grinned. “Your payment for coming with me.”

  “Mmm, wedding cake,” I groaned as I took the plate.

  He chuckled but then turned serious. “I mean it—thank you.”

  “And I mean it—don’t mention it.” I stepped a little closer and put a hand on his shoulder. “I got your back while you’re getting over your ex. You know that.”

  “I do. Just…don’t think I don’t appreciate it, okay?”


  “Never once doubted it.”

  We exchanged smiles. Then he gestured at our plates. “Now, let’s eat cake?”

  “Let’s eat cake.” I sliced off a piece with my fork and took a bite.

  And froze.

  The fuck…?

  It tasted like… Did it taste like anything? It was sort of cold and slimy, which I guess cake kind of is, but without any flavors to speak of, it was weird in my mouth. It didn’t even quite feel like cake or frosting, which got my mind spinning about all the things it could actually be—wall spackle with a layer of petroleum jelly, maybe?—and I had to fight hard against the urge to gag.

  I looked at Vic, and the faint twist of his lips and subtle shock in his unfocused eyes told me I wasn’t the only one wondering what in God’s name I’d just put into my face.

  His eyes flicked toward me, and we both raised our eyebrows.

  Somehow, I managed to swallow the, uh, cake. Beside me, with some obvious effort, Vic did the same.

  “So, um.” I tried not to gag on the aftertaste. Or after-slime, since it really didn’t taste like much. “How do I politely set this down and walk away?”

  Vic looked around. “Well, we wouldn’t be the first.”

  I scanned some nearby tables, and sure enough, there were a number of barely touched pieces of cake that had been abandoned.

  We put the plates down and made the quickest, subtlest escapes we could, getting as far away from the culinary crime scene as possible.

  “Okay,” Vic said as we neared the dancefloor. “I think we’re in the clear for—oh hey, Andrea!”

  The bride materialized in front of us, smiling like she had been all day. “Hey! Are you guys having a good time? Did you get some cake?”

  “Oh. Yeah. We did.” Vic plastered on a grin. “We’re good.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Wasn’t it awesome? I found this baker who does gluten-free vegan cakes that are also low carb. It cost a damn fortune, but I mean, how amazing is that?”