Page 88 of The Wrong Groom

A cloud seems to pass over his face, and immediately, the grins on everyone’s faces dim. Beckett has been mired in the early arrangements for his upcoming nuptials to a woman named Meredith Ballard, and just like I was, he’s clearly less than thrilled about the whole thing.

The mood shifts instantly, and even Dominic, who’s always quick with a snarky remark, seems to hesitate. Beckett’s irritation is palpable, his shoulders stiff as he drops into the empty chair next to me.

“You doing alright?” Reid asks sympathetically.

“I’ll live. It’s just… dealing with all this shit is exhausting.” He gestures vaguely, as if encompassing the entire mess of the arranged marriages and everything surrounding it. “I don’t know. To be honest with you, I didn’t think I’d ever get married, or at least not for like a decade. Now…” He shakes his head, looking miserable.

“I hear that,” Dominic mutters. “It’s not exactly a fairytale.”

Beside me, I feel Alexis shrink a little. My jaw sets, and I reach over to lace my fingers with hers, giving her hand a little squeeze. Dominic and Beckett are only complaining because they’re not in their arrangements yet. They don’t yet know that it doesn’t have to be terrible. That it can actually be amazing.

I can see my thoughts reflected in Tristan’s eyes as he meets my gaze, but he lifts his shoulders in a tiny shrug. I can tell what he’s thinking. Let them figure it out for themselves.

The room falls into a quiet, contemplative pause.

“I mean,” Beckett continues, his voice quieter now, almost to himself, “it’s not that I don’t get it. The whole family business thing, the legacy and all that… but the idea of being stuck in a marriage with someone I barely know, let alone like…” He glances at Alexis, then Chloe. “No offense to you two. I mean, Tristan and Gabe struck gold, you ladies are awesome.”

“Thanks.” Chloe chuckles lightly, then makes a face. “I get what you mean though. Nothing about the situation is ideal, at least at face value. We got lucky and fell in love.” She smiles at Tristan, and he places his hand above her knee. “But that doesn’t mean all of you will.”

“Yeah.” Beckett sighs. “No kidding.”

His expression turns a bit sour as he gets to his feet and wanders over to the drink cart to fix himself something.

“It’s nice when love finds you in unexpected ways,” Ivy says almost to herself as she watches Beckett make his way to the cart. “I can’t say I’m thrilled about my arranged marriage either.”

At that, I wince. I’d almost forgotten the Langfords were arranging a marriage for Ivy. She’s in the same boat as the rest of us, which isn’t too surprising. It’s a fairly common practice within our social circles, a method for shoring up wealth and protecting a family’s legacy.

“I always wanted a grand love story, you know?” she continues, leaning on one hand. “Sweep you off your feet, head-over-heels type of love.”

Dominic lets out a noncommittal grunt, then takes a long drink of his whiskey, draining the glass.

“You know, I used to think the same thing,” Chloe says, her eyes meeting Ivy’s. “But then life happened, and I stopped wanting the fairytale. And then, boom.” Her fingers twine with Tristan’s. “Sometimes, it turns out that the story you get is better, even if it’s not what you imagined.”

There’s a flicker of sadness in Ivy’s expression that doesn’t go away. Her gaze strays back to Beckett, then to the floor. “Yeah, maybe.”

Beckett pours himself a whiskey, then returns to his seat. “We don’t really have a choice in the matter, do we?”

“Unless you’re willing to give up your shares in the company,” Reid points out. He’s been quiet. Of all of us, he seems the most resigned to the arranged marriages, the least willing to rock the boat. Maybe that’s because, like me, he already loved and lost, and even though his loss was a breakup and not a death, I know it still rocked him pretty badly. It’s almost like he’s given up on the concept of love ever since things ended between him and Sienna.

“Yeah, right,” Beckett mutters.

Before the conversation can continue any further down this route, my mother returns from the kitchen. I can’t tell if she heard what we were talking about. There’s nothing in her expression to indicate one way or the other. Based on how thoroughly she’s stood by my father’s decisions, I get the sense that she’d be disappointed if she heard Beckett bitching about his upcoming wedding. She must not have noticed. Then again, my mother has never been one to let her emotions show on her face.

“Dinner’s ready,” she announces, gesturing toward the dining room.

All of us get to our feet. I turn to help Alexis up off the couch and we file into the dining room, trailing after Tristan and Chloe.

The large, mahogany table is set with the kind of attention to detail that only my mother can pull off, with polished silverware, folded napkins, and seasonal centerpieces. Tristan steers Chloe toward the far end of the table and takes the chair on her left, the way he always does now, putting the rest of us on her good side. None of us make anything of it. It’s just how we sit these days—close enough that she never has to strain, her better ear toward the room. I know she kept her hearing loss secret for years, and I’m glad she feels comfortable enough around all of us to not do that anymore.

Peyton is already seated, swinging her legs as she waits for the rest of us to join her. Alexis and I take seats near her, and she flashes us a big grin.

“Grandma said I couldn’t eat anything until everyone got here. I’m hungry!”

Alexis laughs. “Don’t worry, dinner’s starting now. You’ll be eating in no time.”

“Good,” Peyton declares dramatically, leaning back in her chair. “Because I’m starving. Like, so hungry I could eat a hundred pancakes.”

“That’s not even dinner food,” Dominic says as he sits down across from her. “What are we eating, Mom?”