Anyone But Rich (Anyone But..., #1)(73)

Cade and Nick stood behind me as my groomsmen, and Stella had two family friends as bridesmaids. The other part of the plan was for Iris and Miranda to walk behind Kira down the aisle and trade spots with Stella’s bridesmaids.

But as everyone got to their feet for the bride to come down the aisle, I had to do a double take when I saw Stella coming around the corner with her father’s hand on her arm.

Oh shit.

“That’s not good,” I heard Cade mutter.

Stella looked like she was trying to figure out if she could simply turn and run full speed in the opposite direction. When they reached the altar, her father gave me a wink before turning away. Stella took her spot across from me and mouthed something I couldn’t understand.

“What?” I said.

“Where is she?” Stella whispered.

The pastor started talking, ignoring our hurried whispers.

“She was supposed to be here. Did she not show up?”

“Obviously not.”

The pastor cleared his throat finally, urging us to stop interrupting.

I swallowed hard. My mind was racing with all the possibilities. Had Kira decided not to marry me, after all? Had something happened to her? Had my—

I turned my head toward the crowd and scanned it until I spotted my parents. It took only one glance at the smug expressions on their faces to know they’d done something.

I closed my eyes, desperate to think of something I could do or say to fix this before it spiraled out of control. I realized I had only two choices. I could call the wedding off before the vows, or I could buy time and hope Kira managed to find a way to get here despite whatever my parents tried.

“Do you, Richard King, take—”

“Wait,” Cade said loudly. He stepped forward so he was between us and the crowd.

Everyone gasped at the sudden interruption, but as usual, Cade didn’t seem bothered by the attention.

“Aren’t you going to ask if anyone objects to this union? When does that part come?”

“After the couple says ‘I do,’” the pastor said through gritted teeth.

“Well, I can’t let it go that far. I, sir, have an objection. A big, fat, throbbing objection.” He paused, grinned like an idiot, and continued. For some reason, Cade’s voice began to take on the slight hint of a southern preacher’s accent. “My brother here. He’s a good man. Despite his many faults—poorly endowed, underdeveloped sense of humor, small, girly calves, and the way he thinks macaroni and cheese is better if you don’t add milk like God intended. Many faults. So many faults. My brother, he’s not a perfect man.”

I watched Cade in utter disbelief. While I’d been silently praying for some kind of distraction, I was already starting to think I’d like to change my heavenly request to a well-placed lightning bolt right between Cade’s legs.

“He’s bad at video games!” Cade shouted. He spread his arms and looked around, as if this was going to draw some kind of gasp of shock. Everyone was already muttering or watching with slack jaws. I was fairly sure no one was even listening to what he was saying. They were just shocked that my idiot brother had wandered in front of the ceremony and started this rant.

“I wish I could say it didn’t get worse, but friends? It does. It gets much worse. Let me tell you a little story. How am I on time, Pastor?” he said quickly, as if he was giving some kind of planned interlude.

The pastor was too stunned to respond, so Cade took his silence as approval.

“Perfect, thanks.” He shot the man a wink and turned back to the crowd. “Let me tell you about the incident of December the eighteenth. If my recollections serve me, it was a cold day. The date was . . . wait, what was the date?” He stroked his chin theatrically, and that was when I knew I was getting much more than a little extra time. Cade was ready to buy hours, if needed.





Chapter 29





KIRA


Our “Uber” driver was slumped in the passenger seat and whimpering quietly to himself when we arrived at the venue. I had nearly suffered a heart attack when we stopped at a red light and Iris threw herself into the front of the car with a catlike war cry. Everything happened so fast that I wasn’t sure which parts I was making up and which parts I actually saw, but I was pretty sure Iris had spun in midair and landed a direct shot of pepper spray across the guy’s eyes. Unfortunately, his reaction had been to slam on the gas and smash us into the car in front of us.

Miranda and I helped move him to the passenger seat so Iris could drive. She shouted out the window to the other driver we’d crashed into that she didn’t have to worry, because Iris was a cop. I wasn’t sure how that was supposed to help the woman, but Iris didn’t give her time to complain.

And now we were here. My wedding. I stepped out of the car in a kind of daze. We were late, and I didn’t have time to take in the decorations. If everything still went according to plan, I’d be able to look at them on the way to the reception, I figured.

Iris and Miranda followed me down the long driveway. The venue was a huge colonial-style farmhouse in the hills. The lawn stretched out as far as you could see and was peppered with peach trees and oaks.

I burst through the doors and headed straight for the backyard, where the ceremony was taking place. White wood trellises, archways, and decorative ivy had been put up everywhere. What had to be at least two hundred people sat in matching white wooden chairs on the freshly cut grass.