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Look at Calvin, reading a brochure. Also outside my expectations.
We met up with the other guests, including Parley’s parents and Ellen’s whole family, about twenty of us in all.
“You’re breathtaking!” Ellen embraced me and then stepped back, holding both my hands. “You’re ethereal. Mom, isn’t she ethereal?” she called over her shoulder. “Don’t you wish I’d thought of putting my bridesmaids in this style of dress?”
Her mom smiled like the wedding plans were wearing on her.
Ellen leaned in conspiratorially. “You’ve fired up my nostalgia for my Tolkien phase. We all went through it, right?”
“I’m still in mine.” I smiled—mostly for Calvin’s benefit. He glowered back. “But if you’re serious about the dresses, I might be able to help you. How many bridesmaids do you have?”
“Just three.” She bounced up and down. “You’re not serious.”
Calvin stepped up and tugged at my arm. “No, she’s not serious. Come on, Arwen Daughter of Elrond. We’re seated near the best man and his wife.”
He recognized an Arwen costume?
We squished into seats on the deck of the SS Earnshaw, and a beautiful meal was brought to us in five courses. I ate all five courses with gusto, ending with the delicious fruit-topped meringue.
“Anybody want second desserts?” Parley asked. “Calvin and Amanda? More sugar for the sweethearts?”
This was my chance to be convincing. “Much as I’d love to, if I eat one more strawberry I might pop out of this dress.” I rested a hand on my distended stomach.
“I wouldn’t mind the sight of that,” Calvin whispered so only I could hear.
I flushed and dipped my head. He shouldn’t have been able to raise these reactions. He was the office player. I was the girl he’d always ignored.
“No dessert for them. They’ve got enough sugar with their sweet nothings.” Parley chortled at his pun.
Calvin reached for my hand and stroked the center of it, sending tingles up my arm. He pressed his nose and lips right up to my ear. “They’re buying what you’re selling. Even in that crazy dress you’re doing great. You win a trip to one hobbit site.”
His warm breath down my neck shot fireworks through me. He was so deliciously near. Since I did need to be convincing, I turned my face toward his, our lips almost brushing, when—
Ellen held up a glass toward us. “To the next couple in line for nuptials.”
Calvin straightened and pulled away. “Nuptials,” he breathed, his Adam’s apple rising and falling.
Nuptials! Me, with Calvin? Hardly. I fumbled but managed to lift my goblet.
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Parley cough-spoke into his elbow. “But still, salud.” Parley held up his glass and waited.
It took long seconds, but Calvin finally lifted his glass. “Salud,” he croaked before fake-sipping from its edge.
Wow, he clearly did have a terror of commitment—seemingly beyond dating every girl in sight and dropping them. Half of me wanted to roll my eyes, but my more compassionate half was curious. What had happened to make him so resistant to lasting love?
“At the bride’s request, something different in lieu of traditional speeches.” Ellen’s mom stood up and passed papers and pencils around. “Who’s ready to play the newlywed game?”
“No one here is newlywed.” Parley pushed his aside. “Yet.”
“Oh, Parley, honey. Play along.” Ellen rested her head on his shoulder. “Whoever wins gets first pick of the horses for tomorrow’s excursion.”
Horses! “Are we going riding?” I sat up straighter. I loved horses and it had been forever.
Calvin pulled me by my waist and muttered a warning. “Please, no costumes when we ride.”
“Aw, but I have the perfect Riders of Rohan costume. It’s black leather. Very form-fitting.”
His jaw fish-dropped and shut a couple of times. Victory!
