Do You Take This Man (51)
“I’m glad, too.” I was a few moments from pushing the emergency stop button and challenging him to go as fast as he could again, but reason took hold. “I’m not saying goodbye, because I’ll see you downstairs in—” I glanced at my watch.
“Thirty-three minutes,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.
“Show-off.”
Chapter 28
Lear
THE NEXT DAY started out so well. The wedding preparations were in full swing, vendors arrived on time, and there hadn’t been a single hiccup, which should have prepared me for a major one.
I pushed a thumb between my eyebrows, surveying the small group of people gathered in the bridal suite. The destination wedding on the Outer Banks was small, and about fifty people sat on the beach outside, enjoying a beautifully timed sunset that would have aligned with the couple saying I do.
I’d been looking for the best man but gotten distracted when RJ smiled at me from where she was checking things at the makeshift altar. The breeze blew her curls, and the warm glow from the sun made her skin even more tempting to kiss and taste. I was imagining the feel of her lips when the bride’s dad pulled me into the bridal suite, his mouth in a firm line.
This isn’t good.
The bride sobbed into her mother’s shoulder, and her father paced, the slight man looking like a caged animal. “How could he do this?”
“I don’t know, honey,” the mother of the bride said, stroking her daughter’s hair.
“I’m gonna kill him,” her dad muttered, fists at his sides. “I’m going to chop off his balls.”
The groom had shown up, taken pictures with his attendants, and then left, texting that he couldn’t do it. I might have killed him, too. The young bride’s choked, hysterical cries filled the room, and I didn’t let myself connect with what she was feeling, because as much as I thought I was getting emotionally untwisted, seeing her this raw left me feeling like my skin was scraped and bleeding. I made a mental checklist of tasks I would handle.
Notify the DJ.
Have hotel staff take down monogrammed decorations.
Cancel honeymoon suite.
The list went on, and I motioned to her dad that I’d begin taking care of things. Stepping out of the room was a relief, and I immediately looked around for RJ. I needed to tell her, but I also wanted to be next to her right now. I shook away the thought and found the hotel staff first. I knew it would take time to reset everything, but the last thing the bride needed to see was the lovely scripted version of their initials on every surface when the B in J&B was MIA. I texted RJ, hoping she’d have her phone near her since we hadn’t begun yet.
Lear: Groom is AWOL.
RJ: I knew that guy looked skittish.
Lear: One point for you.
RJ: I didn’t mean that to sound so cold.
Lear: I know. Meet me in the bridal suite.
I hurriedly filled in the hotel’s event manager and rushed back to the suite, where the scene was unchanged. The bridesmaids loitered outside looking green, and Jayda, the bride, sat inside with only her mother, who rubbed her back, and her father, who continued to pace, presumably planning the castration of one Benjamin Mercer.
I cleared my throat. “Would you like me to say something to the guests?”
The bride’s parents shared a look across the room. “Maybe we should do it,” her mother said, looking to me for confirmation. They were very proper people—concerned about which rules of weddings should be followed and how things were done, especially the mother of the bride. It felt good to know the answers. Penny had made me read books on wedding etiquette before I started, and though I’d balked, I was glad she had. My phone buzzed in my pocket and I had a feeling she was calling to check in on things. I thought about ignoring it, but given the number of vendors I’d just quickly asked to pack up, I had to check. It was her, and I shoved my phone back in my pocket. The bride’s mother still looked at me for the answer.
“There’s no one way to handle it. It’s up to you.” Please don’t make me be the one who has to do it. There were many moments where I missed working with a professional football team, but never as much as this one. I’d seen powerful, hard-as-nails people tear up when their team won or lost, but I’d never had to watch the team’s owner sob because the commissioner wasn’t coming to the party.
RJ stepped into the room, her posture as poised as ever, but her expression looked uncertain as she met my eyes. Jayda sobbed loudly again, and RJ’s expression shifted to something more flat. I wasn’t sure what I expected—for her to offer the woman comfort or exchange sympathetic glances.
“We’ll do it,” her father said. I wondered if he was just jumping at the chance to do something, but I stepped aside and nodded, letting him and his wife take a moment to convene, their hands clasped. I wasn’t sure why I noticed the clasped hands, but it’s all I could focus on. They somehow clung to each other and held each other up.
“I’ve already asked them to shift to just dinner in the reception space, and they’re making the changes they can now. People can head that way for drinks and appetizers if they want,” I said in a low voice. He nodded grimly and held his wife’s hand. I thought I should follow them, but Jayda looked lost, and it tugged at my heart. I met RJ’s eyes, wondering if she’d have some feminine instinct to comfort the girl or say something profound, but she stood still. It was not like RJ to have nothing to say, to not step in, and I waited a few extra moments, hoping she would.