The Worst Wedding Date, page 17
I plop three iridescent insulated wine tumblers onto the table and wait.
And the reaction is worth it.
“You didn’t!” Emma squeals, which honestly hurts my head a little, but I don’t care.
Sabrina bursts out laughing. “Oh my god, you did.”
“Seemed appropriate,” I say with a grin.
Emma picks up the nearest insulated wine tumbler and lifts it into the sunlight to examine the logo more clearly. “Remember our Ugly Heiress Society clubhouse?”
Not long after Theo dubbed us the ugly heiresses of the Tooth—Sabrina as an heiress to Bean & Nugget, me to Kingston Photo Gifts, and Emma to Rocky Roadkill—Sabrina found an old treehouse on her grandparents’ property within walking distance from the school. The three of us decided we’d own the crap out of the nickname, make ourselves a fancy club with our rickety new clubhouse, and we’d go there all the time after the bell rang and before we had to get home.
I nod. “We were so lucky that thing didn’t fall apart.”
“Hey, we don’t do rickety treehouses in my family unless we know they’re sturdy,” Sabrina says.
“Is it still there?” Emma asks.
Sabrina shakes her head. “Aunt Lisa had it torn down after Grandma couldn’t make it out to the yard to see if it was still there anymore.”
Emma wrinkles her nose, but she doesn’t say a bad word about her future mother-in-law. “I guess that was probably the safe choice.”
Sabrina grabs her mug and inspects the inscription too. “I can’t believe you remembered and did this.”
“I can,” Emma says softly.
My cheeks get hot. Also, here I go again, fixating on the one man I am absolutely positive has been cured of whatever crush he might’ve ever had on me. “In retrospect, I shouldn’t have taken it so personally when Theo called us that. There’s a solid chance one of us—probably me—upset him and he was lashing back, and just based on everything I remember from childhood, it most likely came right on the heels of my mother telling me I needed to learn to dress because my face would never be what found me the right man.”
“Oh, honey,” Emma whispers.
I wave a hand. “I know she meant well. Like, tempering my expectations, you know?”
“Except you’re gorgeous,” Sabrina says.
“Not next to you two.”
“Are you serious right now?” Emma points to her arm. “Do you see the freckles? And that’s with seven thousand gallons of SPF 100 applied hourly. And let’s not talk about how I look like a walking stick with a pointy nose and a pointy chin and elf ears. I look sick. No matter how much I eat.”
“You are also gorgeous,” Sabrina tells her.
“You have to say that because I’m the bride.”
“I choose to say that because I’m your friend who sees all of your beauty. And also who knows you eat all the good things, see your doctor regularly, that your metabolism isn’t your fault, and that your face is utterly charming and captivating and you rock it.”
“And you’re easily the most beautiful of the three of us on the inside,” I chime in.
“Agreed. I’m a total bitch on the inside.” Sabrina grins.
“Me too,” I say.
My two best friends find that hilarious.
“I really think I am,” I insist. “At least…to some people.”
“Those people have provoked you your entire life,” Sabrina says dryly.
“But that doesn’t mean I have to rise to the occasion and provoke back.” I wave my hand. “And back to Emma. How’s your wedding week? Is it everything you hoped it would be? What’s missing? What else do you need?”
She smiles.
It’s one of those glowy smiles that makes her eyes light up, even if they’re pinched at the edges. “It’s a good week. I have my family. I have my friends. I have my groom. We’re in paradise. I have everything.”
“But…?” Sabrina says.
“No buts.”
There are totally buts. “C’mon, Em. What’s wrong?” I prod.
She opens her mouth. Closes it again. Then glances around the bistro like she’s afraid someone’s going to overhear her. “Have you noticed that everything’s really…slow?”
“Like island time slow?” Sabrina says, which is complete and total baloney.
“No, like…even slower. Like half the staff isn’t here or something. I thought that first day was a glitch, but now I’m getting worried. Chandler was complaining last night that there’s only been one day when the bar was open at the pool, and it was thirty minutes past his tee time yesterday before the clubhouse opened so he could get his golf cart. And like…we’re almost the only party here, but they still don’t have a room for you, Laney. And—”
“Aw, Em, a few staff shortages won’t ruin your wedding. You still get to be Mrs. Sullivan by the end of the week.” I reach over to squeeze her hand. When I asked what she needed, I thought I’d be calling a cab to run out to a store and pick up a load of candles for her wedding night.
Not that she’d be stressing that the resort isn’t living up to expectations.
And did I hear—
I cut off my own thoughts as Sabrina glares at me with the do not say what I’m afraid you’re about to say look.
Right.
I was drunk last night.
Even if I heard what I think I heard about open bungalows, I don’t have the full story.
And honestly?
I don’t know that I want to move rooms.
Nothing to do with Theo, I tell myself, though even I think I’m lying. But I’m not lying about the sadness that would happen if I had less kitten time.
I feel very complicated right now.
“It’s just so different to dream about your wedding and have these expectations than it is to live it,” Emma says. “Like, I thought meeting my perfect man would be a fairytale, but being in a relationship is a lot of work. And I thought I’d feel this magical sense of being a princess all week, but instead, I’m worrying about if my dad and uncle are getting along okay with all of Chandler’s family, and why there aren’t enough rooms, and if there will be enough food at all the meals, and if Chandler’s really having a good time or if he’s lying to me for my sake, and if Theo’s having fun or if he’s starting to feel…well, just if he's enjoying this week too.”
“You are officially off worrying duty and hereby ordered to spend the rest of the day at the beach,” Sabrina says. “No relatives. No future in-laws. I mean, except me, but I was yours before Chandler was yours, so I don’t count as a future in-law, and who counts cousins-in-law anyway? We’ve already been family forever.”
“I’ll check in again with the desk about extra rooms,” I offer. “And I’ll follow up with catering too.”
“But you have too much else to do because you’re babysitting my brother.” Emma cringes. “That came out wrong.”
“No, no, that came out right,” Sabrina says with a smile.
None of us laugh though.
Me chiefly because I have no idea what my face is about to do. “Em, you know I’ve never been Theo’s biggest fan, so when I say I don’t think he’s causing trouble on purpose, or even that it would be trouble if it wasn’t your wedding week, that has to count for something, right? Things just happen when he’s around. Let’s be real here. Who sneezes at just the right time to prompt himself getting caught on fire? And who has a collision with a feral pig and then has to hide in the car and wait for a local to rescue you because the one pig on the entire island that’s rabid is the one pig that you hit?”
And who liked it?
This girl.
This good girl right here who had an orgasm that she is not telling her best friends about because she’s still processing that too.
Along with processing that it was fun.
Nobody died. Not even the pig.
My parents’ business didn’t fall apart.
Thunderclouds didn’t gather and strike us with lightning, and I didn’t get pregnant by having a solo orgasm caused by a rocking car and Theo’s incredible erection.
If anything, I got a glimpse at what’s possible when I let myself go and have fun.
Which has to be the lamest fun Theo and his penis have ever had in their lives.
Emma frowns. “Do you think they’ll catch it and put it down?”
I start.
The pig, Laney. She’s not talking about putting Theo’s penis down.
“I hope so,” Sabrina says. “And then I hope they send it to your dad so the stuffed feral pig can be a first-anniversary gift to Chandler if he doesn’t do everything in his power to make you the happiest wife in the whole entire world.”
Emma smiles and rolls her eyes. “He’s never taxidermied a Hawaiian pig. And he does love checking new animals off his list.”
“Theo said the same thing while he was taking pictures of it last night,” I report, hoping they can’t tell I’m thinking about his penis.
She grins. “Did he ask you to help him put it in the trunk?”
“Yes.”
“Did you say no?” Sabrina asks.
“There was literally no other answer. And can you imagine if we’d put it in the trunk before it came to?”
Before it came.
I came.
Sabrina giggles.
Emma tries to stifle a laugh and ends up snorting.
“I was trying to be fun, but even fun has its limits,” I tell them.
I’m sweating. They don’t know I’m sweating because I’m thinking about coming on Theo’s penis, right?
Sabrina giggles harder.
Emma snorts twice more.
“You wouldn’t be laughing if we’d been murdered by an angry pig,” I mutter, hoping my brain is tracking the out-loud conversation right. “Hey, where is the staff? We need water.”
“Coffee and mimosas,” Sabrina corrects, still giggling.
“I need water. You can have a mimosa and all the coffee your caffeinated heart desires.”
“We’re not taking joy in your suffering, Laney, I promise,” Emma says. “It’s just the image of the pig chasing Theo all over the inside of that convertible…”
“The glow of happiness at the idea of him shrieking for his life…” Sabrina agrees.
“Nowhere in that equation is you getting hurt.”
“Or needing to drink that heavily over anything else the rest of the week.”
I wave them both off as I rise. “I’m going in search of beverages to fill our cups. It’s fine. All good. If it makes you happy, Em, then that’s what I’m here for.”
“You both make me happy,” she tells us.
But as I head away, I hear her whisper to Sabrina, “You don’t think there’s any chance he’s pulling his charm routine on Laney, do you?”
“Absolutely not,” Sabrina whispers back. “He wouldn’t cross that line.”
I stiffen, but I keep walking like I didn’t hear.
I do feel like Theo’s more than I gave him credit for.
And after what happened in the car last night—which I will definitely not be discussing with them now, for sure, or possibly ever—and then how he took care of me while I was drunk, and then waking up plastered all over him, I thought maybe we were finding some common ground.
Especially after his confession that he’s always had to live down to expectations as much as I’ve had to live up to expectations.
But once he left and took forever to come back, and then disappeared to play with the kittens when I didn’t have time to do much more than throw on clothes to come meet Emma for the first event of her wedding that I’ve been to?
I think he’s giving me space to get back to being me.
Or whoever it is I’m trying to become.
Weird stuff happens on vacation.
That’s all.
When we get home, everything will go back to normal.
But I don’t think that’s honestly what I want.
I think what I want is to ask Theo to show me how to have more fun.
And I don’t know yet how to handle that.
Or ask for it.
19
Theo
I mostly keep myself hidden away in my room until it’s time for the joint bachelor-bachelorette party to start later this afternoon. Not in my nature to stand still, do nothing, go nowhere, but the kittens and their mama are good company, and I catch up on some work.
Like my side hustle. That helps. So does being able to do it anywhere.
But I don’t talk about it.
Certainly not here. Not now.
Here and now, I’m strolling past the pool on my way to tonight’s events, contemplating Laney losing her top yesterday and getting half-hard.
I shouldn’t be falling for her again.
But when have I ever listened to shouldn’t?
“Hi, Theo,” Claire pops out from the walkway to the gift shop area. “You weren’t at the pool today.”
I smile. “Sure I was. You didn’t see me? Must’ve been that stealthy.”
She laughs. “You’re hilarious.”
“It’s a curse.”
“So you’re coming to the bachelorette party?”
Yeah.
The bachelorette party.
It’s a dual bachelor-bachelorette party, which I’m fine with.
Better than fine, actually. No interest in going to hang out with my sister’s fiancé at a strip club, drinking beer and smoking cigars and pretending like I won’t kill him if he touches one of the dancers.
Pretty sure he wouldn’t cheat on Emma. That he’s not the dick he’s playing this week. Or even the better part of this past year.
I mostly tolerated him fine from the time they hooked back up after college until he proposed.
Or maybe he tolerated me until he proposed.
Or until I made a fuck ton of money while he was running his family’s business into the ground.
Doesn’t take a genius to know that bothers the shit out of him.
Not like I’m rubbing it in his face. He came to me. Not the other way around. And yeah, I’m not really happy that he knows I have a pile of cash.
Em swears she didn’t tell him on purpose, that he found out by accident while she was working on my taxes last year, but they also have this no secrets rule.
Which apparently doesn’t extend to Chandler telling her how her dream wedding’s being paid off.
I nod to Claire. “Looks like. You been to one of these before?”
Small talk is where it’s at. Easy to pay attention while keeping an eye out for the rest of the wedding party.
Like one of the other bridesmaids who didn’t come back to our room at all today, even though I know she should’ve been done with brunch with Emma and Sabrina hours ago.
Was one of the triplets flirting with her?
Were multiple of the triplets flirting with her?
Fuck.
I hope she’s not embarrassed.
I should’ve told her I’ve also gotten so drunk I cried a time or two.
Shouldn’t have taken so long to get back to the room with hangover food.
But I couldn’t go back without the cookies.
Couldn’t do it.
I wanted Laney to have those cookies.
“You wore a veil with penises on it too?” Claire is staring at me like she doesn’t know what to think of me.
I replay the last few bits of our conversation that I wasn’t paying attention to, and yep.
She said something like but you’ve probably never worn a penis veil to a bachelorette party, and I said sure have, because that’s my default.
Yep. I’ve done that. Name it. I’ve done it.
I grin and wink at her. “Why not? Made everyone happy.”
“What made everyone happy?” Sabrina asks.
She and Laney are lurking behind an enormous hibiscus bush that needs to be trimmed back from the sidewalk.
Laney’s poker-faced.
Fuuuuck.
Did she see me wink at Claire?
I’m an idiot. I’m officially an idiot who needs to get his wink under control.
“Theo was just telling me he crashed a bachelorette party in a penis veil once,” Claire says.
“I didn’t hear about that,” Sabrina says.
Code for if I didn’t hear it, it didn’t happen.
I hit her with some solid eye contact. “You don’t hear everything.”
Yep.
That one landed.
Her lip curls while she narrows her eyes at me.
“Are you seriously going to let him get your goat?” Laney asks her. She doesn’t wait for an answer and instead grabs me by the elbow. “Theo. Come on. We’re sitting at the back of the room for instructions.”
She’s stiff as Princess Plainy-Laney used to be in high school.
And I feel every bit as uncoordinated and dumb as I did back then in the height of my crush-on-her days.
Especially since the feel of her hand on my elbow is giving me goosebumps.
The good kind of goosebumps.
And she can probably feel them.
“I had a twitch in my eyelid,” I tell her as I hustle to keep up, hoping she’s just embarrassed about last night and trying to hide it. “I wasn’t winking at Claire.”
Laney’s quickly becoming one of the highlights of my week.
Don’t really want to lose it when I’m dreading this wedding more by the day.
“Mm-hmm. Leftover effect of all of that sand in your eye yesterday?” she asks.
“Must be.”
She doesn’t believe me.
And she’s pissed that I was smiling and winking at another woman.
My dick high-fives my nuts. She likes us.
“Fun brunch with Em and Sabrina?” I ask.
“Yep.”
“Went long, huh? You left me unsupervised.”
“I was supervising Chandler instead.”
“Ew.”
She slides me a look. Her lips twitch, and I grin in triumph.
Made her smile. Or at least want to smile. And suppress it.
And for the record—this grin that I’m giving Laney?
This one’s my best. None of the showboat grin that Claire got.
