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The reception hallis like something ripped from a catalog. If I could get on Amazon and order an old-money fall wedding, it would look something like this. Round tables are draped in cream and copper linens. The chairs are that old-fashioned kind that looks like bamboo ladder backs. The centerpieces are different on every table, but they’re all overflowing with lush flowers in shades of creams, rust, and copper.
The centerpiece on the table I’ve been assigned to is tall. Spindly branches stretch at least a foot above my head, and tea lights hang off them like Christmas ornaments. Everything drips with opulent, decaying, luxury.
“Well, well,” a sharp voice comes from behind me. Liza struts over, a glass of champagne in hand, the other two bridesmaids who aren’t Faye close on her heels.
“Ladies,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets as I stand next to the seat I’ve been assigned.
“Looking good, Coop,” Liza says as she approaches with the rest of the bridal party—minus Faye.
I bristle at the use of my nickname and nod at the three of them.
“You all look lovely.”
The party starts into a conversation about the now-empty flask they passed around during outdoor photos as the 5-piece band softly plays a Paul Simon song. I lean back, watching the door for Faye to enter.
“You’ve never done this before, have you?” Liza says, her voice softer, but no less lethal.
“Done what?” I cross my arms over my chest.
“Gone to a wedding with a date, stag.”
I arch an eyebrow as she sips her champagne. Her gaze flickers to the door I’m staring a hole through. I lean away from her slightly. I know this girl has it out for Faye and the last thing I want is for Faye to feel anything less than secure.
“No shade intended,” she says, crossing her arms over her waist so that she holds the flute as if it’s an accessory. “It’s a family wedding and you’re here and she’s not. It’s a thing.”
“Never heard that,” I say, picking up my beer and taking a sip.
I feel her eyes on me, hard but not unkind, as if she’s trying to solve a problem.
“I don’t know what Faye has said about me, but I don’t think I have to tell you we’ve had our differences.” Her eyes dip, and I grunt, saying nothing more because it feels like a trap.
When I don’t say anything more, she seems to take it as a go-ahead.
“I’m not out to get her and I’m not a bad person.”
“She never said you were,” I say, sipping my beer.
She seems surprised. “What did she say?”
“Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“Nothing.”
She blinks. Something passes across her face, tightening the skin across her forehead.
“Well,” she says, tucking her dark hair behind her ear, exposing her neck. “We’re going to be family now.”
“Hmm,” I say, my eyes on the door.
“And if there’s anything I can do to ease tensions, I would want to know.”
A hundred thoughts roll through my head, ranging fromstop talking to metodon’t look in the direction of my Faye ever again, but I say none of them. Which seems to drill the point home.
“How long have you been together?” she asks.
There’s a commotion in the back of the room and guests start taking their seats. I pull out Liza’s chair for her, because I’m a fucking gentleman, and she gives me a grateful nod in thanks.
