What Happens at a Wedding: A Short Story Anthology

by Lucy Gage

  I took a sip of my drink, “Mmm, this is wonderful.” I hummed.

  Brogen did the same, leaned back casually in the settee across from me, one ankle propped on the other knee. His eyes glowed fiery amber in the low light of the lobby bar, and I found myself mesmerized.

  “So, how do you know Talia?” He asked.

  “She’s my best friend.”

  He smiled, “I know that, I’m pretty sure she said it a half-dozen times during her speech tonight.” He took another sip of his drink, “How did you meet?”

  “We went to school together…wait, why? It doesn’t matter.” I leaned forward, studying his features. “How do you know Talia?” I quirked an eyebrow, my question came out more like an interrogation than simple conversation.

  “I don’t.”

  I leaned back as if I’d been smacked.

  “What do you mean, you don’t?” My face flamed with uncertainty, my heart double-thumped with trepidation.

  “I just met her tonight—last night actually.” His response was casual, as if a million alarm bells weren’t going off in my head at that very moment.

  “Care to elaborate?” I felt my anger rise. “Who the hell are you?”

  “Calm down, sweetheart.” He raised and lowered his hand in a slow-down motion, “It’s not what you think. I didn’t crash a wedding or anything.”

  I set my drink down, untrusting of the man who handed it to me. I lowered my feet to the floor, prepared to beeline for the elevators and the safety of my room, but the look on his face gave me pause.

  “The groom.”

  “What about him?” I rolled my hand for him to keep going. “Giving me little puzzle pieces of a story is not keeping me here.”

  He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his breath warm against my face, the sweet smell of cognac wafted with the heat of his words, “He’s my twin.”

  I felt him before I saw him. While I stood, still a little tipsy and feeling sorry for myself, wondering if love would ever hold me again, strong arms wrapped around my middle, trapping me against the hard plane of his chest. The fabric of his shirt felt damp against the bare skin of my back, but I couldn’t be sure if it was he or I that was perspiring.

  I yelped in panic, his large palm gently slid over my mouth, “Shhhh…” he whispered in my ear. “I got you, baby.”

  The sound of his raspy voice sparked a recollection and my eyes widened. He loosened his grip and I turned in his embrace.

  I was met with a wide smile, sky-blue eyes, and hair the color of the sun.

  I squealed and leapt into his hold.

  “Surprise.” He cooed into my ear, followed by a trail of soft kisses from jaw to collarbone.

  I kissed him back, where ever my lips could reach. I found his mouth and wrapped my arms tighter around his neck to pull him closer.

  He tasted just like I remembered. Licorice and clove.

  I pushed further into him, unable to get close enough. I didn’t want words, I wanted action.

  I wanted him.

  Fletcher had come home. He was in my arms and soon he would be in my bed, inside me. Filling me the only way he ever could.

  I kissed him harder, and he returned every bit of it with fervor. It had been too long. Too many minutes, days, weeks, months…but no more. The man I have loved my whole life was home, and he found me.

  The elevator doors slid open, our bodies tangled in a passionate embrace, a tango of tongues and limbs. We floated into the corridor, pure desire propelled us toward my room. My fingers found the buttons on his shirt and pulled. My lips never left his as we fell into the door, and I absently rummaged through my purse for the key.

  “I’ve missed you so much.” He breathed against my mouth. “God, you taste so good. Better than I remembered.”

  I exhaled, the sound of his voice hushed against my skin set the butterflies free and pushed my heart into my ribs like a bass drum.

  I slid the key into the lock.

  Click-click.

  The door whooshed open from the force of our weight and Fletcher kicked it closed behind us, engulfing the room in a blanket of darkness.

  “Let’s get you out of that dress.” He rasped as we ventured toward the bed. His fingers roamed down the slope of my breasts and across my belly, my pulse thundered beneath his touch and my thighs clenched with anticipation of what was to come.

  Me.

  I couldn’t disrobe quick enough before I was flung onto the bed. The gown that normally grazed the floor was bunched around my hips, while Fletcher’s hands skimmed from ankle to knee to thigh to panty line. I felt the subtle bite of his nails as he gripped satin fabric and slid it back toward the direction he came exposing me to the night.

  I knew his eyes adjusted when the sharp inhale of breath stole the silence. I stretched like a languid cat, scissored my thighs and moaned.

  “Phoebe, I can’t go slow.” He groaned in response. “Not yet.”

  The clank of his belt, the subtle swish of his slacks falling to the floor. The creak of the bed as he crawled between my legs. His gravelly hum as our skin made contact.

  We were making music without words, and the symphony of sounds only grew when his fingers slid between the apex of my thighs. One, then two. In and out at a restrained pace.

  “You ready for me?” He whispered as he positioned himself at my entrance.

  “Mmmm….” Was my only reply as I tried to get closer. My hips rose as his dropped, joining us intimately in a way I’d missed so much.

  “Oh God.” A strained cry as he buried himself to the hilt. I cradled his body and rocked into his thrust, and grabbed onto his shoulders for support.

  The pace quickened as his need for release took over and I held on, absorbing every sensation he sent through my body.

  My fingernails dug into the flesh of his back, grasped onto taught muscle and bronze skin as he rode me like a man starved of human contact. Our limbs were so entwined, untangling wouldn’t be an option even after he finished.

  A guttural cry, a decrescendo of moans and sighs brought our opus to a close, fingers lazily stroked from ass to underarm and back again. The steady beat of his heart held rhythm with the pulse of his kisses.

  “Welcome home, handsome.” I murmured into night-lit room, my breath in short spurts. The tempo slowing with each inhale and exhale. “How lucky am I to get to see you this weekend.”

  Fletcher lifted his head, his eyes shone ethereal-blue and danced with pure love and longing. He smiled his easy smile, all full lips and white teeth. “I couldn’t pass up a chance to surprise my girl, here, in my city.” He peppered kisses along my jawline. “How lucky was I that you got on the correct elevator.” The raw timbre of his voice soothed my riotous heart and I snuggled into the crook of his neck. He rolled us to our sides, legs still entwined and ran a single finger up and down my spine.

  I closed my eyes and breathed in his scent, fresh linen and oak. He smelled of summer sunset, a hint of fire and fresh air. I buried my nose in the hollow of his throat and rested my head on his chin.

  “I made a mess of things with Norah tonight.” I confessed. “She’s so mad at me and had to leave Talia’s wedding early because I fell down on some guy at the reception.” I pulled myself closer, chest to chest, my dress still bunched between us. “I may have had too much to drink.”

  His hand smoothed down my hair, combing through the chocolate wavy strands. “Shhhh…your sister will get over it.” He reassured, the steady thrum of his fingers in my tresses its own lullaby, “Let’s take a little nap…I have plans for a late night snack later.”

  Did he just say TWIN?

  “Did you just say twin? As in you and the”—I swallowed my confusion and pointed behind me like he was standing right there— “you and Bishop?” I squinted then shook my head. “No way!” Disbelief colored my expression as I tried to figure out his angle.

  “It’s true.” He simply stated, unfazed b
y my outburst. Then he leaned forward, “Can you guess which one of us is older?” He held up one finger, swirled it in the air and pointed at himself.

  “When is your birthday?” I fired.

  “February twenty-eighth.”

  “Ha!” I put my face inches from his. “Bishop’s birthday is March First.”

  “Eleven fifty-nine PM. Bishop was born two minutes later, on the next day.” He gave me a cocky smirk.

  I gasped. “No. You’re a liar.”

  He pulled out his phone, dialed a number and placed it to his ear.

  “Who are you calling!?” I shrieked, reaching for the phone to hang it up.

  He pulled out my reach and put a finger over his lips. “Shhh, this will just a take a second. I’m sure he can stop what he’s doing for a sec—Bishop! I need you to settle something for me real quick. No, I’m not there. Yes, I’m with someone. No, not her. Listen, would you stop with the twenty questions—Norah doesn’t believe—yes, that Norah. I know. Okay, whatever, just answer her questions so you can get back to your bride.”

  He handed me the phone. “It’s for you.”

  I looked at the device as if it were about to bite me, Bishop’s name clear as day scrolling across the top.

  “Just put it on speaker!” I heard him yell into the receiver.

  Brogen pressed the speaker button and held it out to me. I shook my head but remained mute.

  “Bro, why the fuck are you bothering me on my wedding night?!” Bishop’s voice boomed over loud dance music. “It couldn’t wait until tomorrow?”

  I cleared my throat, “Sorry, Bishop. It’s Norah.”

  “Norah, are you okay?” Concern laced his voice. “Is my brother being a dick? Brogen, don’t make me kick your ass. That’s Talia’s best”—

  Brogen hit the speaker button again and put the phone to his ear.

  “I know. Her sister fell on me—why are we still talking? She’s fine. I’m fine. Nothing’s happening…” Brogen continued to talk in short sentences. “Go enjoy your wedding. Everything is fine. We’re at the hotel.” His eyes rolled, and he flapped his fingers open and closed before finally being let off the line.

  He placed the phone back in his coat pocket, a look of triumph on his face.

  “Believe me now? Or did you want a DNA sample?”

  Cocky bastard.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, the low-cut of the dress accentuated my petite figure. Brogen’s eyes followed the movement down, his eyes were hungry and wanting even while his posture remained relaxed and aloof.

  “I’m good.” My cheeky retort. I picked up the forgotten drink and started to stand.

  “Well, this has been great.” I raised my glass, took one last sip, and set it down, “Thanks for the drink. Goodnight.”

  I turned on my heel and started toward the elevators. The train of my dress billowed behind me in a cascade of cherry blossoms when I felt a firm grip on my wrist.

  “Wait,” Brogen pulled me back, the heat of him warming me from the outside in, “I still have some questions for you.”

  I turned and regarded his golden gaze. My chest pressed against his, I leaned a little closer. As seductive as I could muster, “Like what?”

  He spun me away and back into his body, caught me by the waist and dipped me. Right in the middle of the hotel lobby.

  “Dance. Do you want to?” He held me suspended below him, his lips a hairsbreadth away from mine, the smell of liquor on his breath. I closed my eyes and inhaled.

  “You poke that tongue out again, Norah, and I’ll take it as an invitation.” He teased.

  I bit my lip and searched his eyes for deception. There was none. Just honest-to-goodness desire.

  A minute passed, or maybe it was just a second, but it felt like an eternity as I warred with my heart. The man held me with a strong yet gentle embrace, and all but dared me to kiss him.

  What the hell.

  I reached up just enough to brush my lips against his.

  Still. Frozen in the moment. Suspended above the ground, wondering if I was floating or falling.

  Just a moment in time where I held control…then he snapped.

  A groan escaped his throat as the feather-light caress of lips became something deeper. Darker. And sexy as hell. His tongue licked at the seam of my mouth, asking permission. I granted, slanting my head to seal his lips to mine. Tongues explored, teeth clashed, his grip tightened as he stole my breath with every inhale.

  I knew we were drawing attention, I could feel eyes on me from every angle. But at that moment, I wasn’t falling. I was floating. Floating on a cloud of exotic spice and raw passion.

  The first whistle from onlookers broke the spell and Brogen placed me upright. My head swam with lust and possibilities while his arms encircled me in the cocoon of his large frame.

  He leaned down and kissed my ear, “Wow, Norah. Way to take a guy by surprise. Want to take this conversation upstairs?”

  Long, slender fingers wrapped around mine as he pulled me toward the elevators when I nodded. The last place I wanted to be was in the public eye. It was bad enough I let him kiss me, a complete stranger, in the lobby of the hotel everyone was staying at…

  “Wait.” I pulled my hand from his, and I missed the contact immediately. “I don’t even know you. You just dropped the twin bomb on me, yet Talia is my best friend and she’s never once mentioned Bishop having a brother, let alone a twin brother!” I crossed my arms to avoid his touch and leaned against the wall next to the elevator doors.

  Ding-ding.

  Doors slid open and an empty car awaited us. Brogen stepped in and held the doors open for me to pass through. I moved to the corner, away from him and the floor panel.

  “We’re fraternal twins. And I travel a lot, Bishop and I aren’t that close. They knew I was coming, and that I had a surprise in tow.” His cryptic yet direct answer gave me pause.

  “What floor, sweetheart?” Brogen’s honey-smooth voice wrapped me in the brief memory of spicy kisses and public displays of affection.

  “Guess.” I challenged. “If you get it right, I’ll let you come to my room.”

  “And if I get it wrong?” He retorted.

  “I guess we hope no one else needs this elevator.”

  His laughter bounced off the walls of the elevator car as he looked over the numbers.

  “Do I get a hint?” He looked over his shoulder and I shrugged.

  “It’s a number between two and twelve.” I giggled.

  “There’s only twelve floors!” He moved his hand up and down, his fingers hovered above dark button numbers.

  “Better choose one, Brogen. Someone is going to press the call button any second and then we’re stuck.” I couldn’t help the amusement in my voice as I watched. Hopeful and terrified he’d get it right.

  “Hmmmm….” He hummed. “I’m sure there’s no logic to this, and I wouldn’t expect you to be on the top floor as those are usually suites…” His train of thought kept random numbers flying from his lips as he mentally ticked off his options.

  I uncrossed my arms and leaned back against the railing. “Hey, Brogen.” I called, my voice low. “Are you staying at this hotel?”

  He looked over his shoulder, confusion then realization dawned. He pressed number three and smiled.

  “Going up.”

  Fletcher’s light snore soothed while the slight scruff on his beard scratched. I was hot, too hot, and his body was too heavy to move off me.

  “Fletch. Baby, I need to pee.” I pushed his shoulder and he rolled onto his back, his arm pulling me with him. I pressed my body away, untangling myself from the too warm lover next to me. I scooted off the mattress, my feet sunk into plush carpeting. I reached around and unzipped the gown I still wore, and let it fall to the floor in a puddle of lavender silk. I padded to the bathroom, took care of business and found a bottle of water in the mini-fridge. A whisper of voices from the hall arou
sed my curiosity so I peeked through the peephole.

  I gasp escaped my lips when I realized it was my twin sister. And she wasn’t alone.

  Pressed up against her across the hall was none other than the dark hottie from the wedding, what was his name again?

  I turned and looked behind me at the man sleeping peacefully before I returned to the show in the hallway.

  Norah was sucking face like a horny teenager!

  I was impressed, I didn’t think she had it in her. Or that she even knew how.

  A surge of pride whispered through me as I played creeper behind the hotel door. Should I open the door and tell them to take it inside or just leave them to it?

  Part of me wanted Norah to know I’d caught her…that she wasn’t such an angel after all. One more peek and I’d decide.

  My face pressed to the door, I focused on the hallway once more. But it was empty.

  “Where’d they go?” I murmured.

  “Who?” Fletcher’s voice ghosted through the darkness.

  “Norah and the guy I fell on at Talia’s wedding.” I responded. I turned back toward the bed where a very naked Fletcher laid, sprawled out and relaxed. The sheet hid my favorite assets, but my imagination was already composing new ways we could get reacquainted.

  “He escorted us back to the hotel, and they got off the shuttle together. I thought she was already in her room.” I mumbled. “You think we should go check on her?”

  Fletcher grabbed my hand and pulled me back on top of his chest.

  “No.”

  Light kisses and wandering fingertips kept me glued to his side.

  “Are you hungry for that late-night snack yet?” I smiled in the darkness.

  “Famished.”

  He rolled me to my back and slid down the plane of my body. My back arched off the bed with the first stroke of his tongue, but his heavy forearm anchored me in place as another concert of passionate sighs and screams echoed through our room.

  I came undone.

  Three months of missing him. Of wanting him. It was too long. His business kept him in the wrong timezone most of the time, forget the same zipcode. I’d missed being this close to him, to feel his voice on my skin rather than in my ear. To touch his face instead of a computer screen. Distance separated us physically, but my heart travelled across oceans with Fletcher.