“Yo! Yo! Yo!” the DJ shouts into the microphone. “The wedding couple has requested a dance-off for the bouquet! All unmarried couples, get out here! And all those looking for a hap-hap-happily ever after, find someone to make it happen!”
I feel a twist of hesitation in my stomach, but Milo’s eyes are wrinkling in amusement at the announcement. “How much does Jo love to dance?”
The song cues up, loud and energetic.
“Let’s do this,” I say, putting my hand in Milo’s.
A thrill trickles up my spine as couples are tapped out and we remain in play. My movements become more exaggerated, my body leaning more into Milo than before, fully trusting he’ll lead me where I need to go next. He spins me, holds me close, and even steals quick kisses on my shoulder. I’ve never felt so alive, so certain in my uncertainty.
I don’t even realize we’re the last couple on the dance floor until the music cuts and the DJ announces, “We have our winner!”
He brings a microphone to us, and my brain finally catches up to this moment.
“Groom or bride’s side?” he asks.
“Groom,” I say, breathless and a little less certain than before.
“Name?” he asks next, putting the microphone up to my mouth.
“Jo and Noah Darcy,” I answer.
When I look around the room, I see people whispering and cocking their heads to the side as they study us.
“Jo and Noah Darcy! You’ve won the bride’s bouquet,” the DJ shouts into the microphone.
I take the gorgeous bouquet of roses and baby’s breath tied up in mauve silk in my hands, staring atit, heat engulfing me.
The DJ covers the microphone with his hand. “Wait—are you married?”
Oops.We might have gotten a little carried away . . .
“Um, no,” I mumble.
The DJ’s brows furrow. “Siblings?”
“Heck no,” Milo answers.
It’s at this moment the groom steps forward, a look of concern flashing across his face as he shakes his head and loudly declares, “We don’t know these people.”
Laughter ripples through the room.
“Do you know the groom?” the DJ asks me again in a whisper.
I shake my head. “Nope,” I reply honestly.
I give the bouquet back to the DJ before I grab Milo’s hand, laughing as we bolt for the door.
“Wait!” I dig my heels into the wooden floor, stopping. “I have to kiss a stranger!”
“Sadie! That can wait,” Milo utters, squeezing my hand.
My eyes search the people around me. I see a man. Maybe thirty. Dark hair and a mustache. That should feel interesting. I let go of Milo and move quickly toward the man. “Are you married?”
He begins to shake his head when a woman to his left grunts and says sharply, “He most certainly is.”
My cheeks flush. “Sorry.”
“I’m not married.” It’s a small voice belonging to a boy who’s maybe ten, his cheeks still round and unchanged from hormones. A familiarity in his blond hair and blue eyes. I look down, smiling, to see if his shoelaces are tied. They are.
