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The resort has been turned into a navy and gold ballroom as we waltz through the door with Brianna between us. Icesculptures and trays of fruit fill the front while a buffet wraps around the outer portion of the room. There's even a disco ball over the dance floor.
"Wow," I exhale. "It looks amazing."
"We went all out this year," Brady sighs.
The Thompsons form a single file line and shuffle onto the dance floor. I watch—in horror—as they start dancing in a group.
No cares. They have no cares.
I should try being more like them.
"You know," Brady nudges me with his shoulder, "they don't see you as anything other than blood."
"It's complicated."
"It's not," Brady responds as his fingers graze my bare shoulders. "Family isn't just blood, Iz. It's a group of people who dress up for your new husband's company party and don't question why we got married so fast. They just...accepted me. They accepted me becauseyoulove me. That's all it takes to get into the Thompson club. One person deems you worthy and they all throw their arms wide open. It's not like that with other families. It's not even close to that. They're...they're special, and they love you."
Tears fill my eyes as my lower lip trembles. It's true. Everyone was shocked when we told them we were married, but they all congratulated us. Even Mom and Dad.
"We did things right this time," Brady kisses my forehead. "We did it fast, but we did it right."
"We did," I agree as he wipes a tear off my cheek with his thumb. "Now, go mingle. You've been stuck inside a house with the Thompsons for a week straight. You deserve a night of small talk."
"I hate small talk," he chuckles.
"So do I," I give him a cheeky grin.
"I'll find you in ten minutes?"
"I look forward to it," I smile.
"You look so damn good tonight," Brady bites his lower lip as his eyes rake over the midnight blue dress I'm wearing.
"See you in ten minutes," I laugh.
"Maybe sooner," he teases as he backs away from me and heads toward the opposite side of the room.
My eyes immediately land on Brianna, who's in Dad's arms as he sways back and forth on the dancefloor with her.
"How's it going?" I hear behind me.
Startled, I turn. Andre is standing in front of me looking worse for wear. "I-I'm alright."
"I hear congratulations are in order," he licks his lips.
"Uh, thank you," I gnaw on the inside of my cheek.
"I never knew, you know," he shoves his hands into the pocket of his dress slacks. "I didn't know she...I just thought they were friends."
"They were—are," I try.
"She wants a divorce."
"I'm so sorry, Andre," I offer.
"She hasn't been happy for a long time," he admits. "She blames my family. Says they never accepted her and she's tired of trying to fit in. I'm blindsided. I tried. I tried talking to them, but they thought...it doesn't matter now. They were right. My family was right."
"I wish I knew how to help," I say.
