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Aleck’s smile holds, grows even.
My eyes go wide. “No, you didnot…”
Cal finally takes his eyes off Aleck and looks at me with a devilish smile. “Yes, wedid.”
My mouth drops open. “Daddy!”
My dad laughs. What am I saying, they probably did it at his request.Thisis what it’s like without my mother around. No one to soften the harsh edges of the men I’m surrounded by.
“Sorry, honey.” My dad shrugs. “Brian was a douche.”
“Okay.” I hold my hand up. Aleck’s shoulders bobbing with a silent laugh. “I see what’s happening here. First, that’s assault, you could have been arrested for that.”
“But we weren’t,” Bennie says with a shit-eating grin.
“Second,” I continue, ignoring Bennie. “I am a grown woman. Aleck is a grown mananda lawyer. So you two can save the protective bullshit. You don’t want to mess withthisone.” I wrench my thumb toward Aleck.
“As long as he’s not aBrian,” Cal says, grinning.
“I assure you, I’m no Brian.” Aleck lifts his wrist, checking his watch. “Gentleman, please excuse us, we have to get back to the bride and groom.” He stretches his hand toward my dad. “Gary, I’d love to continue our conversation at the reception.”
“Absolutely, Aleck. It was nice meeting you.” He looks at me. “Love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you, Daddy.” I lean over and kiss him on the cheek.
“How about me, Alex,” Cal says, turning all four heads in his direction. “Would you like to continueourconversation at the reception?”
With a confident smirk, Aleck nods. “Sure, Calvin. I’ll even save you a dance.”
Then he winks. Hewinksat Cal, slipping his hand into mine as he turns, and takes the lead, walking us back toward the dressing rooms.
Lord have mercy, I have my hands full with this one.
Well, until tomorrow.
TWENTY-EIGHT
ALECK
Clink, clink, clink, clink, clink…
The shrill sound of forks and spoons clinking against wine and champagne glasses fill the room like the most annoying reminder that weddings are nothing more than long-established traditions of bullshit. Every time the guests tap their eating utensils against their glasses, Sondra and Preston kiss.
Charming.
Winter stands from her seat, both Preston and Sondra between us. Her silver satin gown drapes over her hips and ass so beautifully, I nearly lift the Wedding Party table six inches off the ground with an erection I could win a sword fight with.
Her caramel hair is pulled up into a braided bun, showcasing her soft, slender neck, enticing me with the need to put my mouth on it. The little straps of her dress leave her smooth shoulders bare, and scoop down to the middle of her back. Her tanned, lean back… I picture sliding my hands up it while I’m bending her over…Fuck.
Then she smiles. Her supple lips painted blood red. I swear to god, I can’t tell if she’s the devil incarnate, or a god-damned angel. Which, I suppose, is the same thing altogether, isn’t it?
Clink, clink, clink…
Moreclinks. Everything at a wedding is a fuckingclink.
“Hi…” Winter says into a microphone. The crowd chatter quiets, then fades to silence. “Thank you, Max, for that amazing toast. I’ve been fighting off crying for like nine hours, and that didn’t help.” The sea of watchful guests chuckle, giving Winter their undivided attention.
“Um, most of you here know me, but for those of you who don’t, I’m Winter Sommers, Sondra’s maid of honor and bestest friend in the whole wide world.”
