Maybe This Time(27)

“Let me fix your flower,” I whispered. “It’s crooked.”

“Thanks.”

“You changed,” I said, unpinning the rose.

“Yeah, Jett Hart’s kid delivered this up to my room. He said it was a gift.” He tugged on the bottom of the jacket. “I had no idea Jett was so generous. The tag said Burberry. I’ve never heard of this Burberry guy before but he makes a good suit.”

I straightened the flower and pinned it in place. “Yes, it’s amazing.” I gave his arm a pat then snuck off to the side and around the guests. I went back into the house and the room where I’d left Andrew, but he wasn’t there. Wherever he was, he was either wearing Chad’s rented tux or the cater waiter attire I’d brought him.

I really didn’t have time to keep looking. The ceremony was about to start, and while Chad and Janet were getting married, I had to put finishing touches on the reception area.





The ceremony went off without a hitch, I was told. And more importantly, without rain.

The guests were now filing to the tables as the sun crept lower in the sky. Fairy lights were strung up between the poles that had been installed for that very purpose, and despite the muggy heat, it looked magical. I, on the other hand, did not feel magical. My hair was sticking to my face, and sweat made my shirt cling to my back.

I lit the last citronella candle (our attempt to repel any and all winged critters) and plucked a dangling petal from a rose.

“Finally, a client with taste,” a voice next to me said. “These are centerpieces.”

“You like roses. How original.” I turned to face Andrew. He had obviously gone home, because he was wearing neither the rented tux nor the cater waiter outfit. Instead, he was in a tailored navy-blue suit that was less showy than the Burberry but still expensive.

“I figured if I wanted to look nice, I needed to make the groom look nicer,” he said, obviously noticing my gaze.

“And here I thought you’d done it out of the goodness of your heart.”

“I did it out of the goodness of your heart, right?”

I bit back an angry response and instead said, “I guess taking pictures isn’t the most important thing at events. The way you look is?”

“There is zero food at a wedding ceremony. I come for the reception.” He raised his phone and took a picture of Micah, who had just come out with the appetizer course.

“That better not go on the website,” she said as she passed us.

“It’s going front and center,” Andrew said back, and she shot him narrowed eyes over her shoulder.

Their friendly relationship seemed to be extra annoying tonight. I blamed the heat. I pushed a lock of my damp hair off my cheek just as the sky lit up with a crack of lighting.

“Am I allowed to say that it looks like it’s going to rain now?” Andrew whispered.

“Andrew, you are allowed to do whatever you want,” I said, then whirled around and headed for the house. I needed the air-conditioning, at least for a moment.

When I’d seen Chad in that tux, I thought I owed Andrew an apology, or at least a thank-you. I had offered him neither because, like always, his personality got in the way.

I found the closest AC vent and stood under it, pulling my shirt away from my skin and aggressively flapping it. I had been standing like that for some time when I figured I’d better check on things.

I headed back down the hall. Lance nearly knocked me over with a trayful of food on his way out.

“Sorry,” I said, knowing about the huge blind spot a full food tray created.

“No worries,” he said, and kept walking.

Micah came in as Lance went out, and when she saw me, standing flat against the wall, she said, “Um … what are you doing?”

“Staying out of the way.”

She smiled. “Good strategy.” Then she said, “Close your eyes.”

“Um … what?”

“Do you trust me?”

And of course I did, so I closed my eyes.

“Now open your mouth.”

I opened my mouth and she stuck some sort of food inside. I chewed it hesitantly at first, but as my entire mouth watered with the savory taste, I opened my eyes. “Was that shrimp?”

“Yes, the shrimp appetizer. Amazing, right?”

“So good,” I said. Then my eyes drifted to the tray of dirty dishes. “Wait, was that from one of those plates?”

“What?” she asked innocently. “I couldn’t let an excellent piece of shrimp go to waste.”

I elbowed her with a laugh. “I’m never trusting you again.”

She considered this. “So you wouldn’t have eaten it if you’d seen it on a used plate?”

“Fine, I probably would’ve if you’d told me it was good.”

“Exactly. I know you.” She nodded over her shoulder. “I better get to the next course.”

I went back outside, where I immediately couldn’t breathe again. One reason was the air; the other was my mother. She was standing next to a full table talking to one of the ladies sitting there. My mom wore a skin-tight, short purple dress that I had never seen before in my life.

I made my way to her. “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh, there you are. I have no idea where I’m supposed to sit.”