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“I’m so sorry, so,sosorry,” Christian chokes out, over and over, like he can’t stop, anddear lord,he sounds like he’s heading to his execution.
I swear, the day people stop taking themselves so seriously, we’ll all be a lot happier.
“Jesus fucking shit,” Josie finally manages.
“Language,” her mother snaps, like this isn’t the perfect excuse to let all the colorful expletives fly.
At least Christian’s stopped apologizing now, though he looks in danger of passing out, which won’t help matters.
Time to go.
“Jesus fucking shit, indeed,” I agree, wrapping my arm around Christian. “Beautiful wedding, Josie, thank you so much for inviting us, though I’m not thrilled over one of your guests pushing my poor boyfriend into the table.” I squeeze him tighter. “We’re feeling rather unwelcome after that, so I’m going to take him home and look after him.” I’m talking out of my ass, but I couldn’t care less if they spend the rest of the night trying to figure out who apparently pushed him after how he’s been treated. Even when people approached us earlier, they were more concerned with discussing me and my family than him, which leads me to believe they know exactly who I am, and they’re every bit as shallow and self-involved as I thought.
Christian’s better off without them.
“Is … is he okay?” Josie asks.
“Fine. In fact …” I lean in and lick a long stripe of frosting off Christian’s face, which ignites some life back into him. “He tastesdelicious. Excellent choice of cake, by the way.”
And with that, I turn on my heel and carefully maneuver Christian out of the mess, to our table where I scoop up our discarded jackets and all but march him out the door.
While I should be knighted for not laughing at his family’s reaction to one little spilled cake, my amusement dries up the second we step into the hall.
Christian immediately slumps forward over his knees. “I just … I just …”
“Come on.” Gently, I pull him back upright and help him outside. It’s slightly cooler than it was earlier, the night well and truly set in, and even under the streetlamps and covered in frosting, Christian is beautiful.
I need to reassure him.
“Look, it was—”
“I … I have to go.” He backs up a step.
“Please don’t.”
“No, I …” He sucks in a rattly breath. “I just—”
Before he can do something dramatic, like run off, I step forward and cup his face in my hands. His beard is scratchy against my palms. “I wish you wouldn’t.”
“You’re getting cake on you,” he points out.
I don’t mention that I already licked most of it off him anyway. “I don’t care.”
“Did you see what happened in there?” he asks through his disbelief.
“I did. It will make a funny story one day.Nottoday. But one day.”
Christian eyes me like he’s worried about my sanity. “Why are you still here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, what happened in there would be a hard limit for most guys. I should know. I’m surprised you haven’t taken off yet.”
Jesus. How horrible have the people in his life been if he thinks I’m going to turn my back on him after that? Sure, I might not think that was a big deal, but he does, so he needs support right now. Not abandonment.
“I’m not going anywhere. The way I see it, you made their day memorable, and isn’t that what weddings are about?”
He chokes on a laugh that doesn’t sound at all amused. Then he steps back from my grip and runs a hand through his hair. “Thanks for tonight, but, as I expected, I’m a lost cause.”
