Page 118 of Rush

He just grins, eyes glinting with mischief.

We make it halfway down the aisle before he gives a subtle shimmy—just enough to make me laugh again.

Yasmin lets out a long, tired sigh. “Guys, seriously—you have to do it like you would on the day.”

“Sorry,” we say in unison.

Neither of us look even a little bit sorry.

Philippa shakes her head, but there’s something in the way she looks at us. Almost as if she’s happy to see Broderick so relaxed and carefree. Over the last forty-eight hours, Broderick hasn’t touched his phone to check work emails, heck. He’s living completely in the moment and I love seeing this playful side of him. It warms my heart that perhaps I have something to do with it, that maybe our agreement is mutually beneficial for the both of us?

“Hey, Dad, you all rested up?”I ask, meeting Jack at his room.

“As good as I can be. This place is a bit posh, isn’t it?” he says, tugging at the white button-down that hangs a little loose on him. I’d bet money he borrowed it from Robbie, our neighbor back home. Jack isn’t one for fancy things. When he married my mother, his “wedding best” was a clean flannel shirt and a brand new pair of flip-flops.

He offers me the crook of his arm and I take it, letting him escort me down to the Grand Dining Room. The rehearsal dinner looks like something out of a movie—soft candlelight flickers against crystal glasses and gold-rimmed plates, the long table draped in flowers trailing between each guest like an enchanted garden.

Broderick is already there, chatting with Riley, drink in-hand. He turns when we enter, his gaze raking over me—silk sage dress, hair swept up into a stylish updo, my mother’s earrings catching the light. Dimples flash in his cheeks, betraying the smirk he tries to contain. Riley notices and gives me a look far too mischievous for her own good.

“Hey, guys.”

“El—you look…wow,” Broderick stumbles, words catching.

“This must be your fella?” Jack asks, extending his hand.

“No, Dad.” I shoot him a look. “This is Broderick, the best man. You must not have seen my last email—we broke up.”

Jack regards me with one raised brow, but says nothing.

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Broderick offers quickly, hand out.

Jack takes it. “Likewise, mate. So—how do you fit in with the happy couple?”

While Jack and Broderick exchange polite pleasantries, Mortimer and Carole arrive from the far side of the table.

“Looks like we’re here, honey,” Carole says lightly to my father. She turns to the group with a gracious nod. “Good evening, everyone.”

“Things are in a strange order,” Mortimer mutters, already displeased. “I’ll have to speak to the staff.”

Trust Mortimer to find fault with something—tonight it’s the seating chart.

I notice my place card is next to Broderick’s instead of Philippa’s.

“Oh, no, Dad, that’s my fault,” Philippa chimes in sweetly. “I switched things up. I popped Broderick and Elena next to each other—as the leads of our bridal party.”

Mortimer nods like her explanation barely clears the bar. But I can tell Philippa did it on purpose.

“Aww, that’s so thoughtful, Pip,” Riley teases. “I’m sure Brody and El willlovethat.”

“What’s with theEl?” I ask, brow raised.

“It’s catching,” Riley shoots back.

“So is the plague.”

“Told you,El,” Broderick adds proudly.

“I think it’s sweet,” Carole pipes up.