Page 64 of The Wedding Situation Romance

Suddenly, we are approached by a couple.

“August,” the man says. “Did you really think you could sneak into my wedding with a gem on your arm and not introduce us?”

August? I’m confused for a moment and I look up at Reid curiously.

“Oh, be nice, Ryan,” the woman says. “He’s obviously too smitten to care about anything else,” she smiles. “I’m Krissi. And this is my fiancé, Ryan. And you must be Quinn.”

“I am,” I say, forcing a smile over the top of my confusion.

“August here has told us all about you,” Ryan says.

“Good things, of course,” Krissi says. “I’m so glad you could make it. Tomorrow is going to be a dream.”

“I’m sure it will be,” I smile. “It’s already like a fairytale.”

“She is the sweetest,” Krissi goes on. “Don’t let this one go, August.”

“I have no intention to,” Reid says.

“Well, drink up,” Ryan says. “Because after dinner is the bachelor-bachelorette party.”

He pats Reid on the shoulder, and they walk off to greet more guests, and I look up at Reid.

“What are they talking about?” I ask.

“Hmm?” Reid hums casually as he sips his drink. “Oh. They’re doing a combined bachelor/bachelorette party tonight. At the House of Blues, I think. There’s some concert going on, some jazz band Krissi loves.”

“Not that,” I cut him off. “Why did they call you August?” I ask, and Reid blinks, taking another sip of his whiskey.

“Because it’s my name,” he answers, and for a second, I am still lost. Until I figure it out.

Of course. He’s a lawyer. A lot of them go by different names, especially ones that not everyone is a fan of. AKA prosecuting lawyers. Ones that don’t have a lot of fans.

Reid August.

It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but at least I can say I know his last name now.

After dinner, we pile into limos, something I didn’t know people even did anymore, and head off to the House of Blues. It’s a quaint place, not what I was expecting. But honestly, a lot of thiscrowd is surprising me. They’re fancy, yes, and all very obviously rich. But they like to drink and they love to dance. And the band is almost Benny Goodman-esque, and I don’t hate it.

“It’s like stepping into a time capsule,” I smile as I talk to a bridesmaid named Chelsea.

“Yes. The bride and groom are big jazz and swing fans. They go to ballroom classes every week,” she says back.

“That’s so romantic,” I gush. “I love a man who knows how to dance.”

“Do you know how to dance?” she asks. “Swing, I mean,”

“Not well,” I admit. “I took a class in high school for a play, but I haven’t done much of it since.”

Chelsea is about to say something else when her husband, a cute man with warm brown eyes, sweeps her away and they fall into an east coast swing with ease.

I smile as I watch everyone, taking in the room in its entirety. The band, complete with brass and strings and woodwinds, the couples tangled together on the floor, the lights and laughter and shrieks of excitement.

“Are you having a good time?” Reid asks over my shoulder, and I smile up at him.

“This is amazing,” I answer. “When you said bachelor party, I assumed it would be club music and people doing shots.”

“Honestly, I kind of expected that, too. But this is much better,” he says over the music.