Sweet Cheeks(64)

And I wonder why they came all this way to enjoy a wedding and are preoccupied with my presence instead.

I walked in here tonight expecting some vitriol, and yet what I didn’t expect was how all of this was going to affect Hayes. How he bristles every time he catches a snippet from table ten when there is a lull in our conversation. How I can feel the tensing of his fingers on my thighs when he catches the two women with the god-awful dresses blatantly staring at me before laughing out loud to let me know I’m the topic of their discussion. The clench of his jaw at the heads being shaken back and forth as if I’m a sad sight to be had.

And despite this, his training is a godsend. His acting skills are perfectly timed when he smiles animatedly and waves a hello at the god-awful-dressed women letting them know he’s heard them. Or how he declines an autograph for the daughter of table ten because it’s Mitch and Sarah’s day and we’re here to celebrate them.

But we’ve had fun. We’ve been playing the “What’s Next?” game where I guess what’s going to happen next during the reception to see how much I remember of my own timeline.

And each time I’m right, we have to take a sip of our drinks. It’s our way to relax. To make this event something different for us than it is for everyone else.

We’re laughing over watching the servers begin to prepare for the cutting of the cake—which I accurately predicted would happen next—when I look away from Hayes and meet the eyes of Sarah and Mitch standing before us as they make the rounds to all the tables and guests.

“Saylor.” Mitch is quiet. Serious. Sarah fidgets beside him with a smile plastered on her face, uncertain how to act when facing her husband’s ex-fiancée. And I understand how she feels because I feel the same discord.

I know a million eyes are on us right now. The whole room waiting for a catfight from the ex-fiancée, so I do the exact opposite of what they expect.

I stand. “Hello, Mitch.” Extend my hand to my replacement. “So lovely to meet you, Sarah. You look absolutely stunning. That dress? It’s gorgeous. Thank you so much for inviting us.”

Silence stretches for the shortest of moments. As if Sarah fears what taking my hand will say to the guests. But manners get the best of her and she reaches out and takes it. Her grip is soft. Timid.

“Thank you so much for coming. It was very important to me for you to be here.”

“Oh.” I think I do a good job of hiding my surprise. I glance over to Mitch and while his smile is there, the rest of his expression is the perfect picture of angst and irritation.

“You see,” she says, lowering her voice and leaning in toward me, “you two broke it off rather suddenly. Lucky for me that happened because then he found me. But I think there are some unresolved issues between the two of you that need to be dealt with. And they need to be dealt with so when Mitch and I leave this reception tonight, he’ll finally be over you. Finished. I love this man with all I have, and frankly, I’m sick of the ghost of you following us around.”

I struggle to stutter out a response. My eyes are wide and my mind reels at how much I underestimated Sarah by thinking she was spineless and compliant. I guess it’s only at her discretion. Like when it comes to planning her own wedding.

For some reason, I get the feeling Sarah is just as manipulative as Uptight Ursula.

“Oh.” It seems to be my go-to response while I blink rapidly and look back and forth from Sarah to Mitch to see him just as unhappy with this situation as I am. Talk about being put on the spot. “Um.” I shift my feet, lift my chin, and make sure my shoulders are squared. I want everyone watching to know I am not the least bit intimidated. “Couldn’t we have done this at a different time other than your wedding? I don’t want to take away—”

“I had planned on doing it at the rehearsal dinner. There was a reason you were invited to it, after all, but it seems you were . . .” she clears her throat, finds the words to continue, “. . . otherwise occupied last night.” Her smile is tight and her eyes flicker over to Hayes to reinforce her implication. And I know it’s just a lucky guess on her part what we were doing to miss the rehearsal dinner, but I’m sure I blush a little at the assumed accusation.

“Hayes Whitley. The one who otherwise occupied her.” Hayes extends a hand to Sarah, and I love that he just put her in her place without the blink of his eyes or an inflection in his tone. “It was a lovely ceremony. Great choices all around on the wedding details. You must have had an incredible wedding planner.”

I cough to cover my snort at his politely phrased insult.

The muscle in Mitch’s jaw ticks. I’m not sure if it’s because of what Hayes said about occupying me, or the fact that Hayes just called out his new wife to see if she’s going to bite on taking credit for the planning . . . she didn’t do.

She stares at Hayes. Ice-blue eyes gauging how to take the comment. As sincere or snide.

“It’s about that time, ladies and gents. Will she or won’t she? Will he or won’t he? Yes. It’s cake smashing . . . er . . . cutting time for Mrs. and Mr. Layton.”

The room erupts into a nervous chatter of sorts, almost as if they’re uncertain how this little talk between the four of us is going. When his mother starts clapping, the other guests follow suit to encourage Sarah and Mitch to move to the cake table.