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Boy, that was a loaded question.
“Truthfully, yeah.” I gave her a half-smile. “It feels weird. I’m not gonna lie. The only thing that makes it bearable is knowing that I was once Rory.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
“Haven’t we had this conversation before?”
“I don’t know. Maybe.” She shrugged a shoulder. “I think we have, but it just made me think again. Seeing my cousins, then Rory, then all the others after the photos when they were practically lining up to take their turn…”
I chuckled and swigged my beer. “It can be overwhelming.”
“And you smile at all of them. I can’t even smile at myself most days.”
“But you’re not a people person,” I reminded her. “You’re barely a Poppy person.”
“It’s hard to argue with the facts.” She snorted. “Are you a people person?”
“God, no, but I’m great at pretending I am.”
She wrinkled her face up. She looked fucking cute. “I don’t think I could pretend to be. I hate people that much.”
“I never could have guessed.”
“You’re getting too sarcastic. I think I’m rubbing off on you.”
“I can say with one hundred percent confidence that you can rub on me all you like.”
She choked on her margarita. I bit back a laugh as she smacked her chest as she coughed.
“If you’re laughing at me,” she said scratchily, “I’m going to kill you.”
I held my hands out at my sides. “Not laughing!”
“Mm.” She gave me a fierce side-eye and took another sip of her drink. “Trying not to laugh is more like it.”
Couldn’t argue with the truth.
I gave her a playful grin and nodded when I saw her mom over her shoulder. “Your mom’s coming.”
She groaned, slapping her hand to her face.
“Poppy? It’s time for the speeches,” Miranda said, touching her shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Sure. I’ll be right there,” Poppy said without looking at her.
I twisted my lips to the side as Miranda left. “You’re not ready at all, are you?”
She shook her head, her curls flying. “Not in the slightest.”
Reaching over the table, I squeezed her hand, then brought it to my lips to kiss her fingers. “You’ll be fine. As long as you don’t fall off the chair.”
She groaned as she stood up. “Great. Now I know I’m going to fall off the chair. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome, Red. You’re welcome.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN – POPPY
Sunsets and Speeches
My stomach rolled as Mark finished his speech. Everyone broke out into applause, and I caught Adam’s eye in the crowd. He winked, giving me a small, reassuring smile.
It didn’t work. I was nervous as hell. I hated speaking in front of people. I avoided it at all costs. The last time I’d done it, I’d tripped over my own feet on the way up to the stage and almost flashed everyone my underwear.
The only thing I had going for me for this one was the fact my dress was long enough to cover my ass if I fell over.
That, and I had alcohol. I’d drink my way through this if I had to.
I’d have to. I knew that.
“Your turn, sweetie,” Dad said, holding his hand out for me.
Swallowing hard, I took his hand and stepped up onto the chair. My stomach literally flipped as I looked out at the hundred or so people turning in my direction.
“Her boobs look bigger. Did she get her boobs done?” My great-aunt Linda shouted. “Is she pregnant?”
I clicked my tongue and took the mic from Dad. “Not how I planned to start this speech, but, uh, Aunt Linda, no, I did not get my boobs done. And,” I raised my glass, “Definitely not pregnant.”
“Why?” she crowed. “Aren’t you having sex?”
This was why I didn’t do speeches.
“Moving on swiftly,” I said, ignoring her. I caught Adam laughing into his hand and shot him a glare before focusing out on the crowd. “First, let me start this by saying the entire Dunn family should pat ourselves on the back. Why? Because we’re all together, and nobody has gotten injured—”
“Yet!” Aunt Blythe yelled.
“Or drunk—”
“Yet!” she shouted again, holding up an empty Bloody Mary glass.
“Yet. Thanks, Aunt Blythe.” I raised my glass in her direction, and she nodded, putting one wrinkled thumb in the air for me. “As I was saying. Nobody is injured, drunk, or fighting. Yet,” I added before she could do it for me. “So, we’re doing good. And as long as someone keeps an eye on Grandpa and Aunt Blythe near the bar, we should make it the whole night!”
Mild protests from Grandpa and Aunt Blythe rumbled through the laughter of everyone else.
“Anyway, to be serious, because apparently I have to do that, when Rosie asked me to be her maid of honor and she realized that meant I’d have to get up here and do this, she had three rules.” I caught my sister’s wide eyes. “The first was that I couldn’t get up here and tell you about the time she accidentally dropped her curling iron on the cat, and that’s why Sir Socks had a bald patch on his tail for the rest of his life.”
