“I hope you also told themyouwere the one who failed to bring thecorrectearrings to the hotel as you were instructed,” the female voice comes from over Drew’s shoulder. I’d recognize that voice in my sleep. She’s the precious gem a metal detector beeps madly for—the closer she is, the faster my heart pounds in my chest.
Drew steps aside and Gretchen comes into view. Clad in ashimmering burgundy dress that dusts the floor, she’s an utter vision. Her signature fancy braid draped over one shoulder, strands hung loosely around her face drawing all of her beauty into focus, is even more captivating in person. Eyes the color of rich, dark chocolate, framed by dark lashes. Tanned skin. Light freckles dotting the top of her nose. Lips stained in a deep red to match her dress.
“Minor details,” Drew mumbles into his pint glass.
“Ok, so really this is allyourfault.” I frown at Drew, who gives me an unamused look and stomps off to mingle with other guests.
The guys, Gretchen and I watch Drew’s back for a few seconds before we all turn toward each other. Our eyes find each other, a collective whole-body sigh escaping both of us—the kind youfeel.
“Hey, Fish.” My smile is so big I should be embarrassed, but the smile she gives back fills the entire room and I can’t bring myself to care.
I’m done waiting. I pull her in for a hug, arms thrown around her waist. Her arms around my neck, I squeeze her tight. A lavender vanilla scent invades my lungs as I breathe her in. My words are a breath against her ear when I say, “You look beautiful.”
She steps back and runs a hand down my lapel. “You fix up nice yourself.”
“Who do we have here?” Mav says, reminding me we aren’t alone.
I paste a neutral expression on my face and turn to the groomsmen. While I grab my drink from the bar, I make introductions. “Guys, this is Drew’s sister, Gretchen. Gretch, these are the groomsmen. Aaron, Maverick, Dylan and Trent.”
Most of the guys offer a kind head bob or“nice to meet you.”But Mav—fucking Mav—steps right into her space, man on a mission.
“This can’t be the brace-faced girl from that picture Drew kept in his room at the frat house.”
I’m ready to intervene, when Gretchen replies, “Ahhh yes, nice to know my brother really values my self-confidence by keeping wretched pictures of me on display well past their expiration date.”
She turns to me with a shrug, completely unaffected by Mav’s advances. Mav, unfortunately, doesn’t get the memo.
“My friends call me Mav.” He extends his hand and Gretchen politely accepts it. “Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you.”
I chuckle into my highball glass as I survey the room. Drew stands at the other end of the bar, death glare aimed right at Mav.
“Oh come on, we’re celebrating your brother tonight,” Mav insists, blissfully unaware of a certain friend with the homicidal eyes. He ignores her request and orders a glass of champagne.
I give Gretchen a wink and grasp Mav by the shoulder. “Dude, she doesn’t want a drink.” Then, I turn to the bartender and add, “Can I get a Diet Coke, please?”
A dinner bell rings, calling for everyone to find their seats.
Confession: I may have swapped a couple of place cards behind the wedding planner’s back earlier.
In my defense, the swap put me next to Gretchen. I’m not sorry. I’m counting on the fact this gathering is large enough that nobody will notice what I’ve done.
Gretchen takes the seat next to mine, anI see what you didglinting in her eye. “You think you’re so smooth.”
I set the Diet Coke next to her plate and reply, “I’d say I’m very smooth.”
With guests settled at their tables, salads are served, the hum of dozens of small conversations form the cacophony of sound that fills the dining room.
Gretchen and I share a bemused look as we eye the plates set in front of us. Fully intact leaves of romaine lettuce lie garnished with a singular giant shaving of parmesan. Caesar dressing adorns the plate in some sort of broad-stroked drizzle effect.
“Note to self,” she says, “serve human food at my wedding.”
“Heard that. This weekend is too fancy for me.”
She backhands me on the bicep. “Oh my God, right? I swear, when I get married I just wanna get engaged and pull together an impromptu wedding like the next day. I don’t want all this fuss. Just family and good food, you know? We can grill burgers and hot dogs for all I care.”
An image pops unbidden into my mind: us, our families, myparents’ beach house, Dad on the grill, Mom’s potato salad. The thought propels my heart into a steadythump, thump, thumpthat says…
