Blackbird (A Stepbrother Romance #1)(27)

People started standing. I missed the announcement. It was time for the cake, and the dancing.

Oh, and the bouquet.

Before I realized it I was lined up with twenty other unmarried girls, all strangers. I wanted to run and hide. Victor’s mother turned around, faced away from all of us. She pitched the bouquet back over her head. I watched it sail through the air towards us and held my ground as the other girls moved forward. I held my hands out limply, pretending that I wanted to catch it. Father would be furious if it came at me and I let it hit the floor. He didn’t believe in inane superstitions like bad luck from dropping some flowers. I was sure it was coming right at me, until another girl snatched it from the air in front of me. I let out a palpable sigh of relief and shuffled away as soon as I could, while people surrounded and cheered the girl.

Then the single men started gathering around. I blinked a few times. What was that about? Victor stood in front, scowling.

His mother turned, hiked up her voluminous cream skirts, and stuck out her stocking-clad leg. My father smiled at her, his expression going blank as he knelt. He thought no one saw. No one did, but me. He slid her garter down her leg, careful not to disturb their stocking, and put on a false smile as he stood up, twirled it around his finger, and threw it.

Victor shoved another unmarried man out of the way and plucked it from the air.

Oh. Oh God.

He looked over at me and beckoned me forward. The girl with the bouquet turned red and scowled. Everyone was staring.

“Come on, Eve,” Victor said, loudly.

I looked at my father, but Karen grinned at me.

“What are you waiting for?”

Somebody whistled behind me. Catcalls started. I shuffled forward and stood stiff as a board, unsure what I was supposed to do. Finally I realized he was supposed to put it on my leg.

Which meant I had to hike up my skirts. I did, and stuck out my leg. Victor knelt in front of me, and gently cupped my foot in his hand. He slipped off my shoe, and pulled the elastic band up over my calf, then up my thigh. I shivered as his fingers brushed the skin of my leg, and bit my lip.

It felt… good. He held my calf lightly in his hand and put my shoe back on, and I lowered my foot to the floor. As I put my foot down he stood up, rising inches away from me, his face filling my vision as I stood to my full height.

Karen was grinning. Father’s face was a stony mask, a false smile stretched over absolute, incandescent fury.

The disk jockey started talking. Victor took my arm and walked me, briskly, away from the open floor. It was time for the first dance of the bride and groom. Karen was absolutely overjoyed, smiling so much it had to hurt. She put her head on Father’s chest as they danced, and he looked genuinely happy.

Except for his eyes. His eyes never changed.

The best man danced with the maid of honor, a girl I didn’t know, one of Karen’s people. I tried to slink into the crowd.

Victor took my wrist and pulled me out onto the dance floor.

“I’ve never danced before,” I blurted out.

“Me either, not like this. It’s not hard. We just stand close together and walk around. No big deal.”

I nodded. It was no big deal, until he put his hand on the small of my back, and clasped my hand in his. My heart started pounding and my throat went dry. There was a distance between us, maybe six inches between our stomachs, but it felt like we were touching anyway. I stared at his throat and didn’t look at anyone, aimlessly moving in a circle, shuffling my feet. He squeezed my hand.

“Does he hurt you?” Victor murmured.

“Who?”

“Your father.”

I shook my head and looked away from him.

“Time for the cake.”

He let go of my hand, and his palm fell away from my waist. He stood next to me, arms folded, as our parents fed each other sickly sweet wedding cake. I ended up with a paper plate in my hand, picking at a slice. The icing was too cloying sweet and I wanted to spit it out.

“This cake sucks,” Victor grumbled.

I couldn’t help it. I started laughing.

There were a few looks, but no one paid me much mind. They probably thought I was laughing from happiness at the wonderful wedding. I dumped my cake on a random table and looked for a place I could hide. I never liked crowds and it felt like there was an itchy wool blanket on my shoulders, weighing me down. I tugged on my skirts and wove my way through the crowd, and ended up in front of the fire hall. I breathed in warm, humid evening air. Music thudded through the brick walls as I sat down on a narrow ledge running through the windows and plucked at loose strands of my hair. A shadow fell across my feet.

I looked up and Victor pushed a glass of red liquid at me. There was a little umbrella in it.

“I can’t drink.”

“Me either. Not here, anyway. It’s a Shirley Temple.”

I took it and sipped it through the little straw. It was too sweet, but it was cold and liquid. Victor had one, too. He seemed amused by the umbrella. After he finished the drink he took it out and was playing with it, popping it up and down.

“These aren’t supposed to have umbrellas. Want another one?

“I shouldn’t be talking to you.”

“Why?”

I was trying to think of an answer when I heard a piercing voice.

“Victor!”

I looked over to see a girl our age storm outside. Her dress made me blush. I was honestly wondering how it stayed up. It had no back or sleeves, just cups for her rather large breasts. She walked over and planted her fists on her hips, a long leg visible through a high slit in the side of her skirt.