Warren shrugs and steps around Gage and Blythe, who are still kissing. By now, all the guests are in a fit of laughter. Rather than taking his arm and walking down the aisle, Keanna gives Warren a high-five. He holds his hand out past her, Savannah takes it, and he whisks her to him.
I laugh through my nose when he lifts her off her feet to take her back to the bunkhouse in a bridal carry. Keanna waits for Tripp to step up next, jukes him, and ends up walking out, smirking on Heston’s arm.
Tripp laughs like he and the maid of honor have a history of this sort of teasing—which is completely fine. He lifts his black cowboy hat, runs a hand through his hair, and bows with an arm over his abdomen in front of the flower girl.
She’s about four or maybe five years old and throws a handful of white petals directly in his face with a grin. He reacts as if it were a pail of water, which makes her jump up and down in a fit of squealing giggles. I think he did that just to make her laugh.
She finally grips his forearm, and he escorts her down the aisle. I watch them with glassy eyes and a strand of hair twisting furiously between my fingers.
“That concludes the ceremony,” the officiant in a humble suit and straw hat says as the music momentarily dies down. “We invite you to the barn just over yonder for the reception.”
The guests remain in their spots as Gage and Blythe continue to ignore their surroundings.
The officiant clears his throat. “I said that concludes the ceremony.”
Gage pulls away with heavy breaths and turns his face toward the crowd with smudges of pink lipstick around his smile.
A short time later, the sun has settled into a dark orange glow beneath the horizon. Music from a live band filters out of the barn as I make my way to the party.
I look down to my nude heels that slightly wobble every few steps over the gravel. Once I’m on solid ground in the barn, I take a deep breath and search for the bar.
“Got you,” Savannah says as she slides up next to me with a glass of champagne.
“Keep ‘em coming,” I tease before taking a sip. “You were so beautiful up there. All you girls were.”
“I was just about to say you look so freaking good.”
We laugh, and I smooth a hand over my waist. I don’t bother trying to hide the smile on my lips that lingers once our laughter dies down.
“Did everything go okay today?”
“Oh, yeah.” She waves off my question and takes a drink. “It was chill and smooth sailing.”
I continue to smile, even though I was hoping she might go into a little more detail or slip in a word about a certain groomsman’s mood.
“Good. That’s great.”
“Oh, I’d better see what that’s about.”
I look toward the band, where Keanna is waving Savannah over.
“I’ll catch up with you here in a bit.” She squeezes me in a hug. “Live it up a little, okay? I want you to have fun.”
“I’ll try,” I respond with a laugh while shooing her away.
A line of guests forms behind a buffet table against the far wall, and the smell of food works its way to my nostrils. I blow out a breath, finish my glass of champagne, and go in search of a seat.
The table near the dance floor that I choose appears to be unoccupied, but the minute I sit down, a deep male voice sounds from behind me.
“That’s my chair.”
I spin in my seat to see a broad-shouldered man staring down at me. His light brown hair is long enough to pull back in a hair tie. The button-down shirt he’s wearing looks like it might burst at the seams from straining against the size of his arms.
I squint at his face. He’s conventionally handsome, in a sort of brutish way. But there’s something all wrong about it. Could be the mustache. Are mustaches still a thing? I never got on board with those.
“I’m sorry,” I finally reply while gathering my clutch from the table. “I didn’t realize?—”
“I’m just kidding with you.” He laughs like he pulled off the world’s funniest prank. He didn’t quite nail the delivery, if you ask me. But whatever.
