“And, I’m sure he told you, but we’resosorry about the party arrangements.”
“Uh-huh.” It was harder than I’d imagined keeping neutral.
“He asked that you not say anything to his parents, yet, right?”
“He did.”
Her hand paused. “And you won’t?”
“Nope.”
It wasn't relief, not like my brother was relieved when I said I’d keep my mouth shut. Where he deflated, she engorged.
“Fantastic.” Her eyes widened, then shallowed. “Also, mind not mentioning anything to your sister? Knowing how your family is, everyone will know before you boys even get out the door!”
I’m sure others would describe Bree’s laugh as adorable or sweet. Pouring hydrochloric acid into my ears would feel similar. No, the acid might be warmer.
“Wouldn’t think of it,” I said, a smile spreading.
“You’re such a sport. Really.” She finally took her hand off me. “Are you… okay with everything?”
She didn’t care. If anything, she needed to ensure I wouldn’t make a scene. I hadn't thought of it until that moment, but she probably didn’t want my family to know I was kicked out of my brother’s wedding until the very last minute, when it would be too late to do anything.
“I’m absolutely fine with it. I know how much it means that your pictures look perfect.” I couldn’t help the sarcasm, which she picked up on.
Bree laughed, but no sound came out. “I knew you’d understand! Guys like you get the importance of a good photo.”
“I dunno, doctors are pretty oblivious about that kind of stuff, in my experience.”
Her smile froze, then she giggled. “I didn’t meandoctors, silly.”
“Oh? What did you mean?” My brow came together in mock confusion.
She laughed again, still soundless, still unsettling. “You know.” She hit my shoulder with the back of her hand, like we were a couple of old pals joking around.
I stared at her. She said, “Oh, youknow.” I didn’t give her an inch. “You know,” she said, raising the hand she hit me with, then letting it dangle from her wrist.
I was about to say something like, “patients with a wrist or arm injury?” but went with, “Oh! You mean gay!”
I laughed too loudly, and her face reddened. “Yeah, uh-huh, so you get it, right?”
My uncle passed by, well out of earshot, but within our line of sight. She stopped speaking and offered him a fake smile. He didn’t notice or care.
“One hundred percent. Besides, it’s part of your business.”
“It is, yup.” Her giggle turned into a chuckle, no less caustic. “It’s such a visual day, have to keep it cohesive!” she said, glancing down at her phone, no longer interested in me or our interaction.
My gut bubbled, and nostrils flared. At first, I thought she was wearing an expensive French perfume, but it was sour, like a Temu knockoff. “I wanted to commend you.”
“Oh?” She laughed. “On what?”
“Being so progressive. Few brides would allow their grooms to choose their own suits. And since Miles looks like he gets dressed in the dark on the best days, it was big of you.”
“Oh, I—”
“And not caring about how the suits looked, even if it affects your bottom line, is just… inspiring, really. A true show of love for the man you’re marrying.”
Her eyes fluttered, and the smile dropped off her face. “What do you mean?”
