Page 67 of D’Vaughn and Kris Plan a Wedding

“That would be me,” sang Ray as he pointed to himself. “I DJ occasionally, so I told Kris that I’d help her find the right person.”

I gave him a surprised glance. “I didn’t know that you were a DJ!” Turning to Kris, I asked, “Why can’t he just DJ the reception? We don’t even have to listen to anyone else.”

Both Kris and Ray began shaking their heads before I could even get my first words out.

“Absolutely not,” Kris said, dragging her hand across her neck.

“Out of the question,” agreed Ray. “I don’t do family events as a rule. All it takes is one person to start requesting weird stuff or complaining about my set and then I want to fight. Besides, I can’t be the DJ because I’ll be the best man and I have to give a speech.”

Kris rolled her eyes. “You’re not the best man.”

Ray curled his lip, glaring at Kris. “Fine. I’m the best man’s understudy.”

“You’re a groomsman. Period.”

Sighing heavily, Ray rolled his shoulders back as if trying to shake off the setback. “Fine! Whatever.”

Not paying Ray any more attention, Kris grabbed my hand again, linking our fingers, and tugged me toward her. She didn’t have to work hard; I wanted to be closer to her and found myself leaning in her direction by default.

“I missed you,” she whispered, reaching up and fingering a couple of my mini twists.

My mind understood that there was likely a microphone attached to her person, and what she was saying was for the benefit of the cameras dotted around the room, but those words hit me in the chest and warmed me right through.

“I missed you too,” I responded, surprised to realize that I also meant it.

After Kris secured her tux and Kevin green-lit Cinta making my custom gown, he then reached out to us the morning after the fittings and instructed us to do additional fittings for our wedding party as well. The following visits had taken up the rest of the week and there hadn’t been time—or a reason—for us to see each other again. We’d been in each other’s presence so often over the past few weeks that going the last couple of days without seeing her face made me realize that I really, really enjoyed looking at her. And being around her. And kissing her.

The grin that lit Kris’s face was a mixture of pleasure and satisfaction. It was a little smug, as if she could see the thoughts swirling around in my head, but happy. Genuine.

“So, why didn’t you call me?”

My cheeks plumped and I wondered if I was ever not smiling when I stared at this woman.

“Because I knew I would see you soon. I’d much rather look at your face while I hear your voice.” Her knuckles brushed my cheek, and I might have leaned into her touch a little bit. Just a few centimeters. Nothing too outrageous.

“Shiiid. Say the word and I can make that happen anytime.”

And I believed her when she said that, which is why I’d held off on calling her each and every time the urge hit me over the past couple of days. Biting my lip, I nodded.

“Noted.”

The first DJ stepped up to the booth and set up his equipment, which consisted solely of a slim laptop. After a few moments, he switched on a microphone and called out to us.

“How y’all doing?”

“We’re good!” Kris yelled back.

“Thanks for coming,” I called, cupping my hands around my mouth so that my words would carry. It sounded so loud in the large space that I giggled nervously afterward. For a moment, I’d forgotten that we were in a relatively empty club.

“No problem. No problem. I’m gonna play a little ten-minute set for y’all based on the answers to your questionnaire. Feel free to come ask me questions or request a song. Otherwise, let’s rock out.”

“Love and Happiness” by Al Green sounded through the speakers and my brows furrowed. Although it was a classic, I wouldn’t exactly call it appropriate for a wedding reception. Personally, I wouldn’t want to hear that love could sometimes make you do the wrong thing, especially not after just pledging my life to someone. I glanced at my brother to see a frown on his face as his head bobbed, his eyes on nothing in particular. He was in the zone, processing the music. This was why I’d wanted him with me. A few more songs cycled on that had catchy melodies but had shady or downright depressing lyrics. When he played “Pretty Wings” by Maxwell, I tuned out, mentally scratching him off of my list.

Ray leaned forward, his eyes on Darren. “Did you have another question about the music? Your first question seemed like a two-parter.”

Darren nodded. “Oh, yeah. I was going to suggest we bounce ideas around for a proposed playlist.” He gestured to the DJ who was wrapping up his set and stepping aside so a woman in a backwards fitted cap could get into position. “Listening to this guy, it’s clear he needs a list of songs not to play.”

I nodded, glad I wasn’t the only one who noticed it.