Speak of the she-devils. Lula and Iola made a beeline toward me as I exited the kitchen doors.
“Silas, you need to go find Bryson!” Lula said. “That handsy groomsman was all over him.”
My heart sank. “You mean Chris?”
“We made you a good match,” Iola said, “but you’ve got to take the next step.”
Lula nodded. “We can’t do it for you, unfortunately.”
“Bryson wasn’t receptive to hearing our wisdom on thematter,” Iola added with a sniff. “Apparently, he’ll only speak to you about your relationship.”
I cringed inside at the idea of the Mamas harassing Bryson about me. I swept my gaze over the ballroom but didn’t spot him or Chris anywhere. My gut churned.
What if he’d decided his ex deserved a second chance after all?
“Where did you last see him? I need to talk?—”
“Right behind you, dear.”
I whirled to see Bryson approaching. Alone, thankfully.
I swallowed hard and forced a smile. “Hey, enjoying the wedding?”
“You throw a great party.” His gaze flicked to Iola and Lula. “I know you’re busy, but can we talk for a minute?”
Bryson’s eyes looked stormy. I had a sinking feeling he was about to tell me I’d ruined everything. I didn’t want Iola and Lula to witness my train wreck, though, so I took his arm and walked a few feet away for a reasonable amount of privacy.
“I’m sorry I let you down, Bryson. If you want to try again with Chris?—”
“What? I told you I was done with Chris.”
“It’s just after your brother said I was hurting you, I thought maybe?—”
His face twisted with anger. “He saidwhat?”
I took an involuntary step back at his furious expression.
“Wait, I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to catch my hand. “I’m not angry with you. I just… I want to kick his ass, Silas. He never should have said that.”
“No, he was right.” I swallowed hard. “He’s just looking out for you. Chris is here, ready to swoop in, and I’ve been dragging my feet.”
“Chris can fuck off,” he said bluntly, “and I can look out for myself. I said I’d wait until you were ready. That was mydecision. Whatever my brother said, he doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know what Michael did.”
“Forget Michael,” I said curtly. “I know I have.”
“Have you? Because it seems like he’s the reason that?—”
Caitlyn’s voice broke through the crowd, amplified by the microphone. “Gather round, people! I’m going to throw the bouquet and whoever catches it will be the next one to get married!”
Bryson and I turned to watch the crowd gathering. Iola and Lula, who apparently hadn’t gone far, returned to give me a push. “Go on, you two. Get in there!”
“That’s for women?—”
“Guys and girls, anyone who’s game, come catch the bouquet!” Caitlyn called. “We’re not playing those gender games. I know some of you guys want to play. Come on, now.”
Lula gave me another push forward. Iola herded Bryson on the left. If only to avoid their flapping hands, we took a few steps closer to the assembled crowd.
“The Matchmaking Mamas should be called the Matchmaking Mafia,” Bryson grumbled.
