Just One of the Guys(108)

“I’m fine,” I say.

“What happened with you two, anyway?”

“He just wasn’t the one, Dad. Blah, blah, bleeping blah. You know how it is.”

Dad chuckles and kisses my hair. Then he stops dancing and looks up.

“Can I cut in, Mike?”

It’s an emotional day, sure. But the sight of Trevor standing there, asking my dad if he can dance with me…It does something to me. My heart surges toward him—the man I’ve loved since I was ten, the man I’ll always love—and for one second, I feel as exposed as a baby mouse in a room full of feral cats. Dad looks at Trevor, smiles and steps back, winking at me, and Trevor takes me in his arms.

His hand is warm and firm on mine, and the heat of his body shimmers into me, even though we’re keeping the proper distance. My cheek grazes his, just enough to feel that he’s clean-shaven today, and heat wiggles through me. I’m actually dizzy with the nearness of him.

Then the song fades, Trevor pauses—the Chicken Dance is sure to follow—but no, the fates decide to be kind, and the DJ sticks with Nora. “Come Away with Me.” Oh, God. I can hardly breathe. We start dancing again.

“Hi,” I whisper.

“I didn’t tell you how beautiful you look,” he says, and it’s hard to look into his chocolate eyes with words like that.

“Thank you.” My voice isn’t working properly. My hand is on the back of his neck, my fingers just brushing against his hair, wanting to slide into the richness there. I can see the pulse in his neck, and maybe it’s a little fast. We don’t say anything for a minute. My heart is pounding so fast I feel a little faint. I try to absorb every sensation—his heat, his hands on me, the clean soapy smell of him.

“Where’s your fiancé?” Trevor asks casually.

I stiffen slightly, and Trevor steps back a little. “Well,” I breathe. “Um, we sort of broke up.”

Trevor’s eyes widen a fraction, an eyebrow raising in surprise. He stops dancing, but none of the other couples seem to notice, too caught up in being in love. “Why?” Trevor whispers, still holding my hand, his arm still around me.

My heart thumps harder, slower, each beat waiting for my answer as I stare into Trevor’s eyes. I open my mouth to give some answer, some casual it-didn’t-work-out kind of thing. But instead, I hear myself say something else entirely.

“Because he wasn’t you.”

Trevor’s lips part ever so slightly. He blinks twice. He doesn’t say anything. The song ends.

“How about that, folks?” the DJ bleats. “And now to change the pace a little. Anyone here know the Macarena?” Everyone claps and cheers, and I feel my dress being tugged.

“Auntie! Auntie! I know the Macarena!” Claire shouts. “Come on! It’s fun! ‘Hey…Macarena!’”

I put my hand on her head, and Trevor takes a step back. Without saying a word, he walks off the dance floor and out of the church hall.

MY MIND IS BLANK FOR THE REST of the reception. My heart is blank, too. It can only take so much, I surmise. Maybe it’s getting used to being in this state of brokenness, of incompleteness. Who knows? Hey, you did all you could, my heart whispers. Thanks for trying.

I dance with my nieces and nephews. I pick them up and twirl them and pretend I’m going to drop them, and they shriek and jump and wait impatiently for their turns with their beloved Auntie. I wave to my mom and smile at my brothers. When Mark asks where Trevor went, I just shake my head and shrug. Then I dance with Harry, towering five inches above him.

“I want you to know how lucky I feel,” he says. “Your mother is a splendid woman. I’ll take good care of her.”

“You better,” I mutter, then correct myself. “I know you will, Harry. Sorry.” He smiles his forgiveness.

Just as I’m about to sit down with various and sundry family members for our rubber chicken, my mother approaches. “Will you make a toast, honey?” she asks. “Harry’s brother is very shy.”

“Sure,” I say automatically. Dad, who’s sitting across from me, gives a nod. Mom flutters across to the DJ, then zips back to Harry.

“And now,” says the DJ, who really should work for Barnum & Bailey, “the daughter of the bride, Chastity O’Neill, will say a few words for the happy couple.” I make my way over to the dance floor and take the microphone, then turn to the guests.

My mind goes completely blank.

“So,” I say. “Well.” I swallow. “Hello.”

Lucky, always the first to start misbehaving, covers his face with his hand. Tara shoots him a look but immediately looks down as her own laughter rises. Then Mark, then Elaina and Matt, then a few of the kids. I grin, and my heart seems to approve. We’ll be okay, it says.

“Shut up, boys. Sorry, Mom.” I grin, then take a deep breath. “I guess there are a lot of kinds of love,” I begin.

“Chastity.”

I freeze.

Trevor is standing at the back of the hall.

“Chastity,” he says again, and starts walking toward me.

It’s silent in here now; the only sound, that of the caterers clattering in the adjoining kitchen. Something’s wrong with me, I think distantly, watching Trevor come closer and closer. My legs start shaking, my eyes sting, my heart races. I may throw up.