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“Like what?”
“Cranky. Come on, we’ll get you a candy bar on the way to the ceremony. Chocolate puts everyone in a good mood.”
“I don’t need a candy bar,” I insist, even though I’m legitimately starving. In any case, he’s walking away and if I plan to find the wedding then I have little choice but to follow him.
“Conner!” A smally boy blocks our path and gazes up at Conner with awe. “Can I have your autograph?” He holds up a pen and a wrinkled newspaper page.
“Absolutely.” Conner doesn’t even hesitate. He asks the kid his name, scribbles out a personalized autograph, and hunkers down to offer words of encouragement when the kid says he dreams of playing football someday.
With his autograph in hand, the kid walks away happy. Two more kids materialize out of nowhere. They also want autographs.
Then along comes three forty-something soccer mom types.
Followed by two barrel-chested dudes who claim to play for Emerald State University.
Conner cheerfully welcomes them all as if he’s been expecting them. He signs autographs and poses for cell phone photos like he’s got all the time in the world.
It’s a little bit fascinating, this life of a sports celebrity. But after five minutes of watching on the sidelines while Conner gets the royal treatment I’ve had enough. “Conner, we need to go.”
He looks up. Checks the time on the wall clock. Turns to his fans. “Great to meet you guys but if you’ll excuse me, I can’t ignore my date anymore.”
Once we’re on the move again I feel the need to clear something up. “I’m not your date.”
Conner ignores the comment. “This way. There’s a shortcut.”
He holds a side door open and gallantly waits for me to walk through it.
“I’m not your date,” I tell him again as we travel a walking path bracketed with red and white geraniums.
Conner cuts abruptly to the right, leads the way along a narrow cobblestone path to another door and pushes that one open too. “What did you say?”
I squeeze past him with effort. “IsaidI’m not your date.”
He stares. “Now why on earth do you think I was talking about you?”
My mind blanks.
I have no comeback for that.
Of coursehe wasn’t talking about me. It goes without saying that Conner would have brought a date to his cousin’s wedding. Nobody goes to a wedding alone.
Well, no one except me.
Somewhere in the bowels of the Palace Hotel there must be a leggy, impeccably waxed supermodel anxiously awaiting his return. She can have him.
Conner stands just outside the doorway and merrily observes the full cycle of my embarrassment. “Right around the corner,” he says and fleetingly brushes his hand across my lower back.
Hugging the silver box in my arms and suppressing a shiver at the feel of his hand, I follow his direction and turn the next corner.
The sight of overdressed people filing into a huge ballroom is something of a relief. Gigantic yellow and white floral arrangements are parked on decorative tables all over the place and the interior of the ballroom looks like the entire spring season vomited all over it. Tess told me that Micah’s mother took charge of the wedding plans and she has a taste for extravagance.
I see her now, Micah’s mother. Matilda is marching around in a white dress and flinging out orders like the grand duchess she thinks she is. The famous author she’s married to is Dani’s uncle and he’s here too, looking constipated while trying to keep up with his demanding hurricane of a wife.
“I was looking for you.” A little girl appears and latches onto Conner’s arm. She frowns up at him. Her dress is the same color as mine but cut more appropriately for a child. She has to be Micah’s little sister, Charlotte. Tess talks about her often.
Standing a few feet away and observing the scene is an old man with a cane. The yellow rose boutonniere in his lapel matches the one Conner wears. A hard life is etched into the lines of his face and but his eyes are friendly while watching Conner and Charlotte.
Then his gaze switches to me and hardens, becomes wary.
