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Avery beams and flutters – as Brooke discreetly snaps photos of the happy couple from every angle. Robert turns back to us all. “Didn't I say, when I found the perfect woman, I’d settle down? It may have taken some time, but I reckon she’s worth the wait.”
There’s applause. I hear Josh give a sigh beside me, and then he’s rising to his feet and tapping a glass for silence. “I guess as best man, it’s my job to welcome you all, and make all the speeches,” he begins, with a smile. “Well, I don’t have the benefit of a professional screenwriter feeding me all my lines – although, Reeve, I might hit you up later –” there’s laughter, “but I do have a few things to say.”
Josh turns to the happy couple. “Uncle Robert, you’ve always been like a father to me,” he says, his voice turning more serious. “Growing up, you were the one teaching me to drive stick in our old station wagon, giving me pep talks to go talk to girls, and watching me humiliate myself in the whole ten minutes I lasted playing JV basketball – before someone mercifully hit me in the head, and put me back on the benches where I belonged.”
There’s more laughter, but I can see the emotion on Josh’s face as he continues his toast. “You’ve always supported me. Believed in me. Taught me how to be the man I am today. You’re the one who told me that love is a rare and precious thing, and every year that passes, I learn just how true that is. If you’re lucky enough to find the real deal… well, you go all-in. So, I hope this marriage brings you a lifetime of peace and happiness. Because you deserve it. To Robert – and Avery,” he adds politely, raising his champagne, and everyone toasts.
“Here, here!” the crowd cheers. But I’m the only one who notices the dubious look in Josh’s eyes, as he sits back in his seat again, and downs the whole glass.
“That was lovely,” I tell him softly.
Josh gives me a wry smile. “I won’t tell you how many drafts it took. I was tempted to hire a professional, there’s a woman I know who does it for a living.”
“Wedding speeches?”
“And proposals, love letters… She’s a regular Cupid. She helped a buddy of mine pop the question in the middle of Central Park once, hiding halfway up a tree,” he grins.
“You live in New York, don’t you?” I ask, trying to sound casual.
He nods. “For now.”
“Working eighty-hour weeks for your Big Law overlords, I’m sure,” I tease.
“Not anymore. I quit the corporate track, a couple of years ago,” he replies. “Now I work for a small firm, doing mainly environmental law. There’s just a couple of us partners, it’s basically a start-up. No swanky offices, or corporate credit cards,” he adds, and I catch a defensive note in his voice.
"Saving the world, one rainforest at a time? I’m impressed.” I say, honest.
“Well, rainforests are the big leagues,” he says with a grin. “We’re more about local wetland preservations and toxic waste run-off.”
“Still, I think that’s great,” I insist. “Everyone I knew who went the corporate track into finance or law all swore they’d put in some time, pay off their loans, and then go do something more meaningful, but none of them have. They do have lovely vacation homes though,” I add with a wry grin. “And really great sports cars in their second garage at home.”
“Yeah, my old law school classmates are the same,” Josh agrees. “And I get it. I mean, you struggle through law school, and then all the grunt work trying to prove yourself as an associate. Who wouldn’t want to kick back and enjoy life once you finally make it up the ladder?”
“But it wasn’t for you?” I ask, curious.
He shakes his head. “I don’t think I’m some hero, I’m still sitting behind a computer screen most of the day, but… I’d like to think I’m working for something good. Trying to make a difference.”
I’m nearly swooning into my appetizer when Reeve pulls our attention across the table. “Uh oh,” he says, wincing as he checks his phone. “They just announced the casting forTotal Annihilation 3.”
“Aww, were you up for a role?” Ivy teases him.
“Wait, isn’t that Avery’s next movie?” I ask, remembering she mentioned it.
But Reeve shakes his head. “Not anymore. They picked Jennifer Grace.” He sends a look up the table, as Avery reaches into her little jeweled handbag and pulls out her phone. Clearly, she’s just getting the news too, because her face darkens, and she immediately retreats a little ways from the table to talk urgently into her phone.
I feel bad for her. Sacrificing all those French fries, and she didn’t even land the role.
Something buzzes nearby, and I swat it away. “This is what I hate about eating outside,” Ivy agrees from across the table. “It’s so romantic and lovely, except for all the damn flies.”
“We’re supposed to have an electronic barrier up,” I frown, looking around. “And citronella candles...”
But there’s no sign of them, and it looks like we’re not the only table under attack. As more food is brought out, the swarm increases, people swatting wildly with their napkins, looking pissed. “I better go see what I can grab,” I say, quickly getting to my feet. “Before the bugs take over.”
I makemy way up to the kitchens, which thankfully seem to be running smoothly now, with platters of gorgeous desserts all ready to go – plus the main event for tonight, a glorious six-tiered chocolate concoction covered gleaming ganache and elaborate frosting that would put theGreat British Bake Offcontestants to shame.
“I won’t lie, it was a challenge to make it gluten-free, vegan,andsugar free,” the dessert chef tells me, refreshingly honest. “And I’m not sure why you should ever try. But I managed. It’s a masterpiece.”
“It really is,” I applaud him, as two of the sturdiest waitstaff load it up onto a golf cart with the other desserts. “It looks incredible, I’m sure the bride will love it.”
