Three Stupid Weddings

by Ann Gallagher

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “Nothing.” I glanced at my loaded fork. “Just… um…”

  His fork hovered above his plate. So did mine. We eyed each other.

  You try it.

  No, you try it.

  And then, because of course we did, we started laughing. Hard. I was lucky I didn’t drop my plate, but hell if I could contain myself. Not when Vic and I were in that giggling feedback loop again.

  “Are we dorks?” he asked, practically crying from laughing. “Does this make us dorks?”

  “I think the U.S.S. Dork sailed a long time ago. With both of us on it.”

  That made him fall apart again, and I was right behind him. Everyone around us must have thought we’d lost our minds, but whatever. There were worse things in the world than laughing uncontrollably with my best friend over something ridiculous. Though I did want to eat this cake eventually, ideally without choking to death.

  I still hadn’t collected myself as I said under my breath. “Don’t know about you, but I’m never going to trust wedding cake again.”

  “Right? Damn it, Andrea.”

  I snorted. So did he. And we were off again. Yep, dorks. Standing there with untouched wedding cake, we howled with laughter, and it didn’t matter if nothing had actually been funny enough to warrant this. It felt good, so fuck it.

  It took some work, but I finally started to rein it in. I wiped my eyes on my sleeve, then picked up my fork, ready to once again try the cake. “All right. I think I’m good.”

  “Okay. Okay. Me too.” Pulling himself together, Vic cleared his throat and took a breath. “Okay.” Another breath. Then he met my eyes.

  So much for pulling ourselves together.

  “Are you sure it’s a good idea to bring me to these things?” I asked through my laughter. “I think I’m a bad influence.”

  “Of course it’s a good idea.” He put his fork on the plate and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. “Then I can blame you when I’m acting like a dork.”

  “Hey!”

  He snickered. “What?”

  “Ass.” I elbowed him. He elbowed me back. Chuckling, I nodded at the cake neither of us had eaten yet. “So are we going to try this or what?”

  “Yeah, but who has to taste it first?” He shot the piece in his hand a wary look. “I’m scared.”

  “Me too.” I held up my fist. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

  Vic shrugged and held up his fist too. We pumped our fists three times, and both produced scissors. On the second round, both rocks.

  “Damn it,” I muttered. “We think too much alike.”

  “Eh. Great minds think like mine.”

  “Something like that.”

  We pumped our fists again, and this time, my rock beat his scissors.

  “Damn it.” He glared at the cake. Uncertainty suddenly flared in my chest. Shit, was I making him eat something? Was this going to fuck with him?

  But before I could say anything, Vic picked up his fork. “Well. Here goes. Wish me luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  I held my breath as he took a bite.

  Almost instantly, his eyes widened. “Oh my God.” He looked at me, swallowed, and murmured, “This is amazing.”

  That was all the endorsement I needed. I took a bite too, and holy hell, yeah, this completely redeemed the horror we’d been served at Andrea’s wedding. It was just a basic white cake with strawberry filling and a fluffy frosting—whatever that kind is that doesn’t feel and taste like sugary butter—and it was perfect. Not overpoweringly sweet. Moist without being soggy.

  “Wow, you’re right,” I said. “Think they’d notice if we stole some to take home?”

  He laughed as he sliced off another bite. “Probably, but…” He cut his eyes toward the table, which was covered in unclaimed slices. “I only took a small one, so I bet I could get away with another piece.”

  My heart fluttered. “There’s a ton left. Go for it.”

  “I think I might.” He finished his tiny sliver in like four bites, and I was relieved to see him actually follow through and go for the second piece. This one wasn’t all that big either, but if Vic was distracted from his demons enough to enjoy some food—and go back for seconds—then I called that a victory. I wasn’t about to draw attention to it, though, and just quietly enjoyed my cake while Vic seemed to do the same.

  “Wow,” he said as he demolished the second piece. “This makes up for everything that horrible cake did to us.”

  “No kidding. Your other cousin’s going to have to step up her game to top this one.”

  “Yes, she is.” He took another bite and made a happy noise. Looking at him now, you’d never know he’d ever had any reservations about food. He was just a guy enjoying a piece of cake without a fat-shaming demon on his shoulder.

  Please, please, let him do more of that.

  As he finished the piece, he paused to lick a bit of frosting off his finger. Then he looked past me, and paused. “Oh, hey, the dancefloor isn’t too packed.” He turned to me with a sweet, shy smile on his face. “You want to?”

  As if he even needed to ask.

  “Of course.” I sounded more eager than I would have liked, so I added, “Gotta keep up appearances, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  Damn.

  We left our empty plates on a table, and as we stepped out onto the dancefloor, I wrapped my arms around his waist. He draped his over my shoulders, and I loved how his hands felt laced together and resting on the back of my neck. As we swayed in time with a country ballad, Vic closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and released it.

  “You know,” he said, looking up at me again, “even though this wedding started out kind of chaotic, I’m really having a good time.” He lifted his eyebrows. “What about you?”

  “Me? Oh yeah. I’m definitely having a good time.”

  “Good. And, um, thanks again. For coming with me.”

  I didn’t want to accidentally say something sappy, so I flashed him a toothy grin. “Thanks for sneaking me in so I can steal wedding cake.”

  Vic laughed, letting his head fall forward to rest on my shoulder for a moment. My shirt only partially muffled his voice as he said, “Weddings are so much more fun with a dork for a date.”

  I just chuckled.

  He lifted his head again, and our eyes met. He looked so serene and relaxed now. It was exactly the way he always looked after we’d had one of those legendary giggle fits—dazed, maybe a bit drunk, and completely happy. I was pretty sure it was during one of those moments that I’d gotten my first inkling about having feelings for him.

  Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?

  The thought made my heart sink, because no, he didn’t have any idea. His ex had killed any self-esteem Vic had, particularly when it came to his appearance.

  I wanted to tell him he looked amazing, but ever since Max had come into the picture, a simple compliment could send Vic into an emotional tailspin. He wouldn’t say anything out loud, and he’d smile and graciously thank whoever had complimented him, but his eyes and posture would give him away. The way he’d suddenly seem like all his enthusiasm was gone, and instead of being the life of the party, he’d want to be anywhere but there.

  Yet another reason I hated Max.

  “Hey.” Vic gave my arm a little squeeze. “You zoned out on me. You okay?”

  I nodded, and when I smiled, it wasn’t forced or fake. Even if the thought of Vic’s ex made my teeth grind, the fact was, Max wasn’t here. Vic was. I was. We were dancing in amongst other couples, his arms around me and not around Max.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine.”

  The concern in his eyes faded, replaced by the usual warmth. God, he was just so… How did anyone look at him and not feel their heart flip? Especially out here under the warm lights strung up like the ones at the last wedding we’d gone to.

  Of course I’m okay. You’re here.

 
; We’d reached the edge of the dancefloor, and I took advantage of a turn to draw him a little closer, and—

  Shit!

  Panic shot through me as I realized just how close I’d come to leaning in and pressing a kiss to Vic’s lips. How natural it would have felt to do it. How weird it felt to not do it.

  Shit. When did I start thinking you really are my boyfriend?

  Fortunately, I’d only gone as far as thinking it, and I’d remembered we were only dancing to keep up appearances. We were committed to this charade, but maybe not that committed.

  Vic’s brow furrowed, and he took a breath like he was about to speak—maybe to ask why I’d suddenly tensed up—but before he could, a woman’s shout turned our heads.

  “I am so done with this.” One of the bridesmaids was stomping away from the cluster of tables, her hands up in frustrated surrender. “I’m done.”

  A groomsman trailed after her, bumping into chairs and people as he tried to stay upright and on her heels. “Look, I’m sorry! Just… Come on, stop! Let me—”

  “No!” She didn’t even look back, never mind slow down. “You promised me you wouldn’t drink like this!”

  “And you said you wouldn’t be a damned nag, Brenda. Jesus.”

  The woman—Brenda, apparently—groaned, threw up her hands, and stalked toward the barn. The man I assumed was her significant other made a similar gesture before he stumbled after her.

  “Brenda, come on. You’re overreacting…”

  I didn’t hear what came next, since they were pretty much out of earshot by the time she snapped back at him.

  Vic wrinkled his nose. “Every time I think I might want to do the relationship thing again, someone reminds me why I don’t.”

  “You think you ever will?”

  He watched the arguing couple for a moment, then nodded as he turned to me. “Eventually, yeah. I think right now, I still need to catch my breath after Max.”

  “Anyone would after that. And I don’t think anyone wants…” I nodded after the couple. “That.”

  “Ugh. No.” Vic sighed. “I want a functional relationship. I miss just being able to be with somebody and not be walking on eggshells or fighting all the time.”

  I wondered if he noticed how, as he was talking, he pulled me in a little closer. I didn’t point it out. “I don’t know how people live like that.”

  “Right?” Vic looked up at me. “It’s miserable. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, I know. I’ve been there, remember?”

  He frowned as he muttered, “Oh yeah, I remember him.” Nothing made Vic snarly like a reminder of Colin, the guy I’d dated a year or two after Vic and I met. “He doesn’t still pester you, does he?”

  “Nah. I haven’t heard from him in a couple of years.”

  “Good,” Vic growled. His arms tightened around my neck, and this time it was obviously deliberate, though I couldn’t tell if it was protective, affectionate, or both. Couldn’t say I really cared. “You deserve better than that.”

  “So do you.”

  His features softened, and that warm smile came back. “I’ll make you a deal.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah?”

  The smile turned to a grin. “Next time one of us starts dating an asshole, the other will say something.”

  “You think we’ll listen to each other?”

  His lips quirked as he seemed to give it serious thought. Sighing, he shrugged. “Maybe? But I mean, I trust you. And you were right about Max. I should have listened to you then, and if you start raising flags like that again, I’ll listen.”

  I knew that was easier said than done, and it was very much a bridge we’d have to cross if and when we got to it, but I nodded. “Okay. Deal.”

  Vic smiled again.

  Oh yeah, I’d say something if he started dating another asshole. I just wished I could tell him that I didn’t want him dating assholes—I wanted him dating me. Except he was still coming down from that bad breakup, and he didn’t need me playing matchmaker any more than he needed it from the people whose matchmaking efforts I was here to deflect. He wasn’t ready for me or anyone else.

  So for this evening, I was content just to dance with him at his cousin’s wedding. I was happy to be what he needed, and I could be patient about telling him how much more I wanted.

  Maybe someday I’d tell him how I felt.

  But not tonight.

  Chapter 11

  Vic

  By the end of the night, I was exhausted. The day had been an emotional roller coaster, and after some chaos, some alcohol, some sugar, and some dancing, I was spent.

  The brides left in a rented convertible, and as guests started heading out, Dom and I stayed to help clean up.

  While Dom was helping Lydia’s dad carry one of the larger tables into the barn, I helped stack the folding chairs in the back of someone’s pickup. I was just coming back to get another armload of chairs when my sister pulled me aside.

  “Hey, I’ve been meaning to grab you tonight,” Andrea said. “I got the pictures back from my wedding, and I thought you might like a copy of this one.” She showed me her phone, and my heart fluttered.

  I remembered the moment it had been taken. Dom and I had been dancing at her wedding, and the photographer had asked for a photo. To this day I had no idea what had possessed me to do it, but I’d gone for a bear hug instead of just us dancing.

  And the picture was fucking adorable.

  Dom was resting his chin on my head—my scalp tingled at the memory of his beard in my hair—and we were both smiling. Not those phony posed smiles either. It looked more like the photographer had caught us just being…us.

  “Do you want me to get you one?” she asked. “I’m putting in an order for enlargements this week.”

  I exhaled and handed the phone back. “Yeah, I’d like a copy of that one. Could you send me the digital proof too?” I gestured over my shoulder. “So I can show it to Dom?”

  “Of course.” She tapped the screen a few times. “Okay, it’s on its way.”

  “Thanks.”

  She smiled. “And by the way? You guys are so cute together.”

  I chuckled sheepishly. “Eh, we clean up good.”

  “Oh stop.” She gave my arm a playful smack. “You make an adorable couple. Don’t argue with me.”

  I just laughed, feeling guilty about lying to my sister.

  Andrea sobered, and she dropped her voice a bit. “I mean it. You look so much happier with him than you ever did with Max.”

  My stomach somersaulted, and it took some serious work to smile. “Thanks.”

  “Hang on to that one.” She wagged a finger at me. “I’m serious.”

  I put up my hands. “I will! I will!” Of course I would—he was my best friend. So it wasn’t technically a lie, right? So why the hell did it make me feel like crap?

  After Andrea had gone off to track down her husband, I moved some more chairs to the truck, then stopped to steal another look at that photo. It was impossible not to smile at the memory, not to mention Dom’s sweet expression in the picture.

  “You look so much happier with him than you ever did with Max.”

  That’s because I am happier with Dom.

  I shoved that thought away. Of course I was happier with him. What wasn’t to love about spending time with my best friend instead of an impossible-to-please emotional vampire? Max had been exhausting. Just being in the same room with him had sucked all the energy out of me, and that was on a good day. He was the reason I needed a pretend boyfriend to be my pretend date so no one tried to hook me up while I was picking myself up off the floor. Any other ex, I’d have bounced back by now. I might’ve even started putting out feelers on dating apps.

  But no, not after Max. And apparently I’d been so fucking miserable with that jackass that when I showed up to a wedding without that dark cloud over my head, everyone immediately assumed it was because of the new man beside me. Couldn’t possibly be because I was
free of the one who’d brought the dark cloud in the first place.

  I pocketed my phone and looked up to see Dom walking back in from the barn, chatting amiably with Lydia’s dad. Just seeing him made me smile.

  Yeah, getting rid of the dark cloud had lifted away a lot of that misery, but there was something to be said about coming to events like this with Dom. I didn’t need a boyfriend when I had my best friend.

  What would I do without you, Dom?

  ~*~

  “Two weddings down.” I dropped into the driver’s seat the next morning. “One to go.”

  “And one more trip across the mountains and back.” Dom buckled his seatbelt. “Maybe we should take the train next time or something. So you don’t have to drive.”

  “Eh. I like having my car. Then I can blast music and there’s no one around to care.”

  He eyed me.

  “Well.” I shifted into reverse. “Besides you, I mean.”

  “Uh-huh. And if you subject me to that pop fluff again, I will get even the next time I’m driving.” He elbowed me. “You know I will.”

  I sighed theatrically as I backed out of the parking space. “Yes, I do. Point taken.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  Turning around and shifting into drive was a challenge and a half when my passenger and I were elbowing each other back and forth, but I’d done it before and managed to do it again. It was so nice, leaving a family function and being playful with someone instead of listening to the laundry list of whatever I’d done wrong over the past few days.

  As I drove, a prickly nervous feeling that I hadn’t even noticed started to settle. I wasn’t sure when it had started—maybe while we’d been getting ready to leave?—and now that we were peacefully heading out, my hackles went down.

  Christ, was I that used to being browbeaten on the ride home?

  Apparently I was.

  I settled against the seat and loosened my death grip on the wheel—something I also hadn’t noticed until just now. If Dom had caught on, he didn’t say anything, and I willed myself to relax. It was weird and uncomfortable enough without having to have a conversation about it.