by Amanda Faye
I swear she feels my twitching erection, because she settles her hips against me, like she’s centering herself against a post.
“Don’t you want to jump back into the crowd? Are you done showing off for the locals?”
“You don’t need to be snippy, Ryan. I’m all better now, thank you.”
I smirk into her hair, then bring my bottle to my lips, letting my other hand settle on her hip.
“Her dress was a little extra, wasn’t it?”
It catches me so off guard, I almost spit my beer into her hair.
“Warn a guy next time, Jesus. But yes! And what was up with the little dude skimpering up the aisle at the end?”
“Oh, you didn’t see?”
Her voice is full of mirth, and I wrap my arm my fully around her waist, holding her to me. I lift my knee and place my foot against the wall, spreading my legs so she fits more snugly against me.
“Stephanie must have forgotten Tom’s ring. Did you see the bridesmaids whispering to each other? I’m not sure whose job it was, but someone dropped the ball. The dude must have been their wedding planner or something, because he brought the ring up to Stephanie.”
I scoff against her ear.
“When we get married, I want to do it at the water. We don’t need to bother with dresses or stupid suits. We can drive down to Carmel Beach in the morning. You can wear a bikini, put my ring on your thumb. Then we can drag the coolers under the umbrellas and surf the rest of the day.”
“Oh really,” she laughs. “But I’m not a very good surfer. What’ll I do during the reception then?”
“What you always do when we go to the beach. Read a book, make me slather sunscreen on you every thirty minutes, even though the packaging says it lasts for hours. Drink with Beth, but not too much. I don’t want you too tipsy for the wedding night. We can get Danny on a surfboard with his life vest and floaties and let him waddle in the baby waves close to shore.”
“He looked so cute in those stupid floaties last time we went! Do you remember?”
“I took a picture of it. He’s going to be a lady’s man for sure. Or a man’s man. I don’t judge.”
She laughs again, finishing off her martini.
“Another?”
“Nah. This is good. Thank you, though. I needed it.”
“I know you did. You’re welcome.”
“You don’t always have to be so cocky you know. Some women might find it a turn off.”
I graze my hips across her backside, leaning in to whisper in her ear again.
“You don’t like me cocky?”
She drags in an audible gasp of air. I tighten my arm around her, lean forward, and —.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, for the first time ever, please welcome Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Smith.”
Applause breaks out amongst the guests, and I’m cut off at the knees as Cris leaves the nest of my body. Fucking Tom man. Even married to someone else he manages to cock block me.
I’d be happy to lean against this wall for the rest of the night, but when Cris links our fingers, I obediently follow her into the throng. When did I become a fucking puppy dog? Following at her heels with my tail wagging?
Sometime around puberty, the voice that sounds like Beth answers in my head.
I watch with, I hope, a chipper expression on my face, as guests rush forward to hug and congratulate the happy couple. Someone hands them each a glass of champagne, and a toast is made as containers of alcohol are raised in their honor. I can do that. Any reason to drink tonight is good with me.
A face I recognize darts in and out of people, and I barely have time to brace myself before Tom’s sister flings herself into my arms.
“Ryan, you dog! What the hell are you doing here? I almost tripped walking down the aisle when I saw you sitting next to Crissy.”
She’s loud and brash, causing a commotion when people are supposed to be adoring the bride and groom. I’d forgotten how much I like her.
She kisses me on the lips, raucous and wet, making sure she makes a mwah sound loud enough to be heard in the next town over.
Cris looks like she’s swallowed her tongue until Megan shoves me away and pulls Cris—excuse me, Crissy—into her arms in my place.
When Cris raises her eyebrow at me over Megan’s shoulder, all I can do is give a one shouldered shrug.
I need another beer.
Megan and I may have hooked up one night. Years Ago. Once. It was fun, and quick, and we both did it for the same reasons. We were drunk, and bored, and wanted to piss off Tom.
It worked.
If he didn’t hate me before, he certainly hated me afterward.
“You came. I thought for sure you’d back out. But damn girl, you’ve got balls the size of watermelons. You should let Tom borrow them some time. It’d be a new experience for him.”
I choke on my laugh, turning it into a cough, and turn to find another beer. I can’t guarantee I won’t add to the chaos if I stay around Megan much longer. She’s obviously trying to be a pain in the ass tonight. It’s too tempting to join her in the attempt.
“Shit, they’re coming this way. No! Don’t look.”
Megan dances on the balls of her feet, then darts back into the crowd.
She’s so weird.
Cris smoothly rotates on her heel, facing the direction Megan was just watching. A flush creeps up her neck, and she lets a breath out through whistled lips.
“Too late to make a run for it?” I mumble, and she pops out “Yup” as I feel the crowd part around us.
Show time, Ryan. Don’t embarrass her.
I debate taking her hand again, but it would seem weird, since we’re now facing each other. I have a heartbeat to center my thoughts when the bride and groom grace us with their presence.
We stare at each other, one second, two, until Cris is brave enough to break the stalemate. She reaches forward, not for Tom, but for Stephanie, and pulls her into a tight hug.
Stephanie changed her dress, and this is the first time I’ve seen her up close. She’s pretty. Older than Tom. By, like, a lot. But she seems sincere in her embrace of Cris. Of course, why shouldn’t she be? She won, in her eyes at least.
She glances at me as she pulls away, and I must not have been hiding my expression very well.
“Yes.” She says, a smirk on her face. “It’s the first thing everybody thinks of. I’m older by nine years. I’d like to say he’s mature for his age, but I think we all know that’s not true. What can I say? I like what I like.”
Cris’s smile tightens at that but stays strong on her face.
I keep expecting Tom to say something, but he just stands there, looking like a sour puss. What in God’s name did these ladies ever see in him? He must have a dick like King Kong, that’s all I’m saying.
“Your dress was absolutely stunning, Stephanie. I loved it.”
The smirk on Stephanie’s face is growing wider by the minute. It’s kinda disconcerting.
“No, it wasn’t. It’s hideous. However, it was my mothers, and she’s dying. Her ‘last wish’ was to see me wear it. Of course, she’s been dying for years, and that was probably the hundredth last wish I gave her, but whatcha going to do? I couldn’t exactly tell her no, and we planned this fairly quickly. It was easier to wear the hand me down.”
Cris’s smile started to turn sincere, until the comment about the short notice slipped, then she wilts around the edges again. Is this woman trying to bait my girl? Or is her honesty just a part of her personality? One, I can forgive. The other might get a beer dumped on her by nights end.
I’m tired of standing here like an obedient puppy.
“Hi, I’m Ryan,” I say, reaching out my hand.
“The Ryan?” She asks, glancing between me and her new husband.
“I gotta tell ya, Ryan, you clean up good. I don’t see a speck of grease anywhere.”
Cris stiffens beside me, finally pushed over the edge, but I throw my head back and laugh, enjoying this
lady more and more.
“What can I say? Cris finally housebroke me. She told me I couldn’t get in bed if I still had grease under my fingernails. I started wearing a scuba suit to the garage every day. Nothing’s going to keep me from my baby’s bed.”
Cris blushes hot and fast, smacking me upside the head. It’s the perfect response. Tom looks like he swallowed a lemon again, and his blushing bride is smiling wider than ever.
“I knew I’d like you,” she says. “You own your own business, right?”
“Yeah. Well, it was my parent’s first. I inherited it. But I run it with my sister.”
“MIT?”
“Yes. I finished my bachelor’s in engineering but had to drop out of the master’s program when my dad got sick.”
“I went to Harvard. Law.”
I raise my hand out of habit, and despite being forty or older, she lays one on me like we’re back in college.
“We may have gone to the same parties!”
She laughs again and reaches out to soothe a hand over Toms ruffled feathers.
“Doubtful, you’re a baby compared to me.” She tilts to the side, giving Cris her full attention. “Cris, you’re in fashion, correct?”
Cris, always happy to talk about clothing, jumps into the conversation with gusto.
“Yes. I’m a scout for Reformation. Basically, I get to look for new designers all day.”
I wonder if Tom told her all this information about us or if she did research on her own?
“Well, cheers to that!” Stephanie crows, raising her glass. When she sees that Cris is without a beverage, she tusks in displeasure.
“Tom, dear, why don’t you take Ryan to get Cris a glass of champagne? Be a good host.”
Her tone is pleasant enough, but when she adds the last, there’s a definite backbone behind the words. She was telling him, not asking.
I like this lady.
She runs her hand down his back, and I watch in awe as a shudder runs down his spine. He throws back his shoulders, face still drawn and sour, and says “If you’d like to join me, Ryan, I’d be happy to escort you to the bar.”
I don’t bother to hold in my whistle of appreciation, and after checking with Cris to make sure she’ll be okay alone with the demon slayer Tom married, I follow him to the bar.
“I like your wife, Tom, she’s kinda hot.”
Tom whips around like his ass is on fire, and I take a step back in case he swings at me.
“I can’t believe she brought you to my wedding! Doesn’t she have any self-respect? All you’ve ever wanted was to fuck her. I bet I wasn’t even out of the house a night before you moved on in.”
I’m tempted to tell him just that but think of Cris’s response if I start a brawl during the reception. I stick my hands in my pockets instead.
I lower my voice and close some distance between us, trying to limit our exposure. My voice comes out as a growl.
“I can’t believe you invited her to your wedding. What the fuck were you thinking, Tom?”
He’s got no response to that, because, really? What response is there? Instead, he twists on his heel and storms in the other direction, leaving me on my own.
“Champagne, please,” I tell the bartender, holding up three fingers, and make my way back to the girls. They’re embracing, Stephanie whispering something in Cris’s ear, and I hang back, not sure if my presence is wanted. When they separate, both women give a hiccupping laugh, and reach to wipe mascara-laced tears off the other’s face.
Girls. They come prepared to do battle and end the night conquering a common foe. We should let them rule the world. We’d have full bellies and world peace within a week.
Cris catches my eye and gives a little nod, motioning me back with a tilt of her head. I hand each lady a fresh glass, taking Stephanie’s mostly empty one and placing it on a passing tray.
She raises it in a toast, and we follow suit.
“It’s been a pleasure meeting you both. Thank you for coming to our wedding. I know what it must have cost you. I doubt we’ll see each other again,” and her smirk is back on her face, “but maybe I’ll buy a bike.”
We clink our glasses together, and I follow their lead and chug the whole thing down. Stephanie winks, then stretches on her tippy toes, searching out her lost husband.
I take Cris’s glass from her hand as she’s watching the bride walk away with awe on her face.
“What’d she say to you?” I ask, wrapping her hands around my shoulders. I slip my arms around her waist and settle my hands against her ass. I said I couldn’t grab it too much. I didn’t say not at all.
“That she didn’t know Tom was engaged, and how sorry she was, but that by the time she found out, she was in too deep to back out. She said she hated herself for being that woman, but at her age, you have to fight for what you want.”
She quiets, but I can feel the rest building in her.
“She didn’t know Tom invited me to the wedding. Megan told her. She didn’t speak to Tom for a week afterward, but when she saw my RSVP, she knew right then and there she had to meet me.”
“I told you,” I whisper in her ear, ignoring everyone else around us.
“She also promised to make him as miserable as she does happy for as long as he’s alive.”
I bark out my laughter and try to hide my face in her shoulder. She’s quieter about it, but I feel her chest vibrating with amusement.
“I like her,” she wails, sounding like a petulant teenager. “I don’t want to like her.”
“You’re whining again.”
“I know!”
I bury my head in her shoulder and laugh some more.
Chapter Six
Ryan
My stomach growls right as they make the call for dinner. I know appetizers were mentioned in the all-call for cocktail hour, but if they were here, they hid themselves well.
“Thank you, by the way.”
Cris leans in close, fingers wrapped in mine, and places her cheek against my shoulder. It’s peaceful, despite the fact that we’re surrounded by a hundred plus people. We’ve joined the crowd heading back into the ballroom area.
“You’re welcome, as always, Sugarplum. But what are you thanking me for now? I’ve done a lot for you over the years.”
She snickers and tightens her grip for an instant.
“Actually, I was referring to the boots, this time. They’re super comfortable. I wouldn’t think they would be, because I really only wear them to ride, but my feet feel great. Plus, you were right. I look hot.”
We’re moving at a snail’s pace, and people bottle neck into the reception space.
“Not to sound too much like Beth, but when are you going to realize I’m always right?”
“Why are you always such an asshole, Ryan?”
I can’t see her face, it’s still on my shoulder as we’re inching towards the doors, but I hear the amusement in your voice.
“You know you love me. Stop bitching about shit you wouldn’t change.”
“Yeah, I think I might.”
Houston, we have liftoff!
True to their word, the ballroom has been transformed; rows of chairs are replaced by circular tables. There’s a DJ off to the side and a dance floor squared off in the middle. As we enter the room, there’s a table with stacks of papers and signs stating take one.
The front includes a schedule and menu; the back, a list of guests and table assignments.
The menu.
Fucking Tom.
PASSED HORS D’OEUVRES
Chilled Jumbo Shrimp
Caramelized Onion And Brie Tartlets
SEATED FIRST COURSE
Lobster Strudel
Layers Of Buttery Phyllo Envelop Chunks Of Fresh
Maine Lobster Meat, Julienne Vegetables And Shiitake Mushrooms,
SEATED SECOND COURSE
(Choice Of 1)
PROSCIUTTO ROASTED HALIBUT
With Fresh Thyme In A Shallot-Thym
e White Wine Sauce
ALMOND-CRUSTED SALMON
Sautéed Fresh Atlantic Salmon Drizzled With A Leek And Lemon Cream Sauce
There isn’t one non-seafood item on the menu, and Cris is deathly allergic to fish. If it came out of the ocean, it’ll knock her on her ass, simple as that. I overhear a bridesmaid talking.
“They were going to offer chicken too, but they said so many people chose the Lobster when they sent out the RSVPs that they decided not to waste the money.”
Mother Fucker.
Now that I’ve met the bride, this move has Tom written all over it.
I hand the paper over to Cris and feel her slump in defeat as she reads the menu. Then she rallies, giving my hand a squeeze and pointing to our table.
“I’m sorry, Cris. Want me to go order you something from the restaurant?”
“No, it’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I can eat the salad. I’m sure I can get one without shrimp.”
Her voice is that overly chipper ‘want to be so okay I sound manic’ tone, but her smile seems sincere enough. Still, I’m pissed as hell. Fucking Tom knows she’s allergic.
“I have to use the restroom real quick before they start the dinner service. Those beers have run right through me. Will you be okay on your own for a minute?”
“What am I? Twelve? Go to the bathroom, Ryan. I’ll be fine.”
I drop a kiss on her forehead, and head in the other direction while she goes deeper into the room. We’re sitting in the nosebleed seats, as far as wedding tables go, and I couldn’t be happier for it. I don’t want Cris to be any closer to Tom than she has to be. Out of sight, out of mind.
Hopefully.
There!
I spot a dash of white in between the sea of moving bodies and make my way up to the front the room.
“Stephanie, hey,” I speak up, loud enough to be heard over the sounds of shuffling feet and scrapping chairs.