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It was a perfect fucking circus—and a reflection of his brother’s family life.
By the end of the ceremony, both Juliet and Will were laughing, their expressions joyful, Juliet’s eyes still brimming with tears from the part where she’d promised to be Beauxbaton’s mother forever.
Then the ceremony was over.
Will had everything he’d ever wanted.
Now Grant just had to figure out what to do with his own life. Although he was only twenty-eight, he felt like he’d done several lifetimes worth of living.
He should have had his shit together by now, but he’d floated along in Will’s wake, helping where he could and trying not to get underfoot.
When it came down to it, what did he even want out of life?
The wedding supper and cake cutting were all classy yet comfortable, with plenty of food and a lot of noise and laughter. Grant managed to get through his speech without stumbling too much, and when he was finished, he was glad he hadn’t embarrassed his brother in front of his new family.
Although all of Grant’s friends were at the reception, he couldn’t help but feel a bit apart from everyone. Juliet’s sister Emma, who was twenty-one, kept sniffing around, but the idea of dating his new sister-in-law’s clone was too freakin’ weird.
As for Arabella, Grant watched her hold court, man after dominant man trying their luck with her, including one of Juliet’s eighty-year-old uncles who’d fallen in instantaneous love with her after finding out the brewery she owned made Evil Pixie beer.
Tarka, of course, was roaming around, being a roguish, incorrigible flirt, charming most of Juliet’s single female relatives, and some of the not-so-single ones. Sarah, who’d come to the wedding with Tak as friends, stopped next to Grant to laugh about her date having forgotten about her altogether. They joked about Tak’s ability to charm the entire female sex for a while, then danced together before grabbing a couple of Cokes.
“You’re looking a little lost tonight, Master Grant,” Sarah murmured, turning to prop her back against the wall like he was doing. Grant knew her relatively well from the club, and had even played with her a few times himself. She was a friendly, quiet girl who often hung out with Echo—who was also around the reception somewhere. Sarah was looking very pretty tonight, in a little black dress rather than her usual short skirt and slave harness, her dark hair in a loose chignon at the nape of her neck. All of the kinksters had cleaned up nice for the vanillas. It was hard to remember, sometimes, that people had lives and jobs outside of the club. His whole life had been the club for so long, he forgot what outside life was like.
He shrugged. “I’m not good at family stuff.”
“You clean up nice.”
“I was just thinking the same about you.”
She laughed, gazing up at him shyly from under lowered lashes. Sarah was the type of submissive a lot of Dominants dreamed about—obedient, pleasant, pretty. Not the kind of woman who gave a Dominant a run for his money. She loved to serve, to be needed. Any man who could convince her to accept a collar would be lucky, but she was selective and had turned down several Dominants who were interested in dating her since Grant had met her.
“I think this is the first wedding I’ve ever been to that wasn’t for one of my cousins,” she admitted. For a moment they simply watched Will and Juliet dancing together, their movements completely attuned. “It’s hard to believe Will married a woman who thought she was vanilla.”
“Why is it odd?”
“Well, being the wife of a club owner is about as far from vanilla as she could get, other than maybe owning a club herself.”
Knowing Sarah, her casual observation was probably just that, with no offense meant, but he still found himself feeling as if he n
eeded to defend Juliet, and Will’s choice in marrying her.
“She’s taken to things really well, considering.” And she had. She didn’t go to the club every night because she had work to do, but she had taken over a lot of the co-hosting duties, to the point where Grant often felt superfluous. They seemed to love having him there, but sometimes he felt like he was the second son in a royal family, not really necessary so much as decorative.
“Yes, I wouldn’t have thought they’d be a good match, but they really are. Juliet is a sweetheart.”
Grant relaxed. Of course Sarah approved of Juliet. His new sister-in-law wasn’t the kind of person people objected to, and Sarah wasn’t the kind of person who objected anyway.
“Are you going to the club after this?” Sarah asked.
“I haven’t decided yet. I might just go home depending on what time this wraps up.”
“Well, if you’re looking for company, or even just to blow off some steam, let me know.”
Really? He hadn’t realized she was interested in him as anything more than a casual play partner at the club. “Uh . . . okay,” he said stupidly, caught completely flat-footed. She plucked his cell phone out of his hand and programmed her number into it before handing it back.
“Even if you’re just looking for someone to hang with, I have no plans after this.” She nudged his arm with her shoulder and walked away.
Grant watched her go, wondering why he’d never pursued her. She was an easy person to be around. Then again, she’d shown up on the scene not long after he’d already been caught up in the situation with Arabella. He’d gone on a few dates and played with a few people since then, but nothing serious. Maybe he’d avoided thinking about Sarah because she was the kind of woman he would take seriously. She was fun and sweet, and her attentive, submissive nature would probably make her a satisfying partner.
