Page 116 of The Killer Card

“I couldn’t imagine a more perfect person for Elias Santos to spend the rest of his life with than you Penelope Santos. I love you both and wish you all the happiness in the fucking world- innuendo fully intended. To Poppy and Elias!”

“Poppy and Elias!” The guests chant as everyone takes another sip of champagne.

Poppy stands and I wrap my arms around her to kiss her cheek. “Love you, amapola.”

“Love you too, Graham.” She kisses my cheek, wiping a tear from her eye when she takes her seat again.

“My exes?” Elias growls in my ear when he hugs me. “Really?”

“I had a point!”

He pats my back a little took hard before retaking his seat for the bridesmaid speeches and I pass the microphone to Theresa and Ivelisse who give a speech in tandem- one in Spanish, the other English for our non-fluent guests. It’s sweet, touching, not as funny as mine was but Rowan reminds me that’s, “not fucking point, cabrón.” So, I shut up and listen, holding Naomi’s hand under the table.

Her palm is sweaty, fingers twitching just slightly. Not in the way they used to when she needed to fuel her addiction, just in that nervous way she’s picked up in the last year. I raise her hand to my lips, giving her knuckles a kiss as Clara takes the microphone next.

“You’re going to do great, mi reina,” I whisper.

She shrugs, nonchalant, feigning a confidence she used to exude like it was her entire aura. “I know.” But I see how hard her throat works to swallow. “It used to be easier…”

I nod, kissing her fingers again. “I know.”

And I do. I remember how much fucking easier it was to get in front of people and talk like I knew everything in the fucking word. Cocaine made me braver than I ever deserved to be. I was a fucking rockstar for those brief hours, but the come down was always a harsh reminder of just how much of a no one I really was. At least to myself.

“But, hey,” I lean in a little closer, lowering my voice even further so I’m in no danger of stepping on Clara’s moment. “At least now you know it’s genuine,” I squeeze her hand. “And so do they.”

Naomi takes a deep breath and nods, but I keep hold of her hand through the rest of Clara’s teary-eyed speech, not even releasing it to clap. Clara and Poppy share a long hug, wiping tears from each other’s cheeks.

And then it’s Naomi’s turn.

Clara passes the microphone down and I take it, holding it for her while she pulls up her speech in her phone. “You go this,” I tell her again, handing over the microphone as she stands, the chiffon of her periwinkle dress falling lovingly over her curves.

She plasters on that smile that’s been crafted to navigate her way through law school and internships with politicians as she raises the microphone to her lips.

“Hello,” she says first. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Naomi, Nelly’s other best friend. Yes, we know there are a lot of us. It’s a constant battle for her attention,” she throws glares empty of heat at both Clara and Cristian, then finally Elias. “Especially since she went and found herself a man who wants her attention every second of the day.”

Elias holds up his hands in the universal of gesture of can you blame me, indicating the woman at his side.

Naomi snorts. “And I thought Cristian was annoying.”

“Hey!”

She ignores the soccer player’s protest. “As Clara has already told you, we’ve known Nelly since we were teenagers. Just itty bitty eleven-year-olds who thought ourselves much too big for our plaid skirts. We thought some pretty eyes and fancy clothes could conquer the entire world. God, am I glad we got over that phase,” she says with a flip of her curls over her shoulder.

The guests laugh and my own smile widens, then softens as Naomi’s voice takes a slightly more serious note.

“Nelly has always been the grounding force in our group. I know, that’s insane if you know anything about her. This woman is the definition of wild child.” More laughter fills the room. “But when it comes to the people she loves, no one is more accepting or supportive or self-sacrificing than Penelope.”

There are tears in her eyes when she looks across four heads to her best friend. “I love you so much, Nelly Belly.” And now there are more tears in Poppy’s eyes. “You are the best person I have ever met, and I am so fucking happy for you.” She sniffs back tears as Poppy stands, coming down the table again to pull her into her arms.

They hug for a ridiculously long time, both of them crying as Naomi murmurs apologies for all the things she’s hidden from her best friend over the years. But Poppy just holds her tighter, until finally Naomi raises the mic back to her lips over her friend’s shoulder and warns, “Elias if you ever hurt this bitch I’ll cut your balls off and wear them like a fucking Olympic medal.”

The laugh that leaves me is loud, echoed by everyone else in the room including Elias himself, though his eyes do look genuinely alarmed by the threat. Not that he would ever in his life harm his wife, but Naomi doesn’t exactly judge slights the way other people do. Hurting Poppy in her eyes could be something as simple as not putting cinnamon on her lattes. His fear is admittedly warranted.

Naomi kisses Nelly’s cheeks, handing the microphone back over to the lead singer who announces the cutting of the cake while she retakes her seat next to me. My girl releases the heaviest breath, as if she’s been holding it the entire time she’s been speaking and I take her face in my hands, kissing her immediately.

“Phenomenal,” I tell her. “Increíble!”

“That was so fucking scary,” she breathes, wiping carefully beneath her eyes.