33. Kiss and Tell All
EVA
When I return to the patio, West’s mother is clearly still shaken, clutching her bag.
Buck is rubbing her back, saying, “It’s okay, dear.”
West is on the other side of her, saying something I can’t hear but clearly trying to comfort her.
I head straight to the bar and place an order then call the three of them over. Once I have them seated, the bartender slides a couple of frosty margaritas across the polished bar top.
“This drink is my favorite, so I wanted you to try it,” I say before taking a seat.
West’s mom and dad eye the drinks but pick them up, clinking glasses in a reluctant toast to me and West.
Buck takes a tentative sip. “Wow—delicious.”
“Right?” I chirp, sitting next to Bonnie. “It’s like a vacation in a glass.”
Bonnie nods, a hesitant smile tugging at her worn features. “It’s real nice, Eva. Thank you.”
“Yeah, thanks, Eves. For everything.” West, who’s sitting on the other side of them, flashes me a wink.
I grin, feeling the tension ease just a bit. “You know, being called a hillbilly by that stuffed shirt is a badge of honor.”
“No kidding!” Bonnie’s eyes brighten.
We chat about everything and nothing—how the salt air does wonders for your hair or the merits of a good barbecue sauce. It’s fluff and nonsense, but it’s working. Their shoulders relax, their laughter comes easier, and I’m having the most fun I’ve had yet. And I’m not going to lie—it’s a relief to have my dad, Senator Easel, and Foster gone, at least for the moment. I feel like we’re getting back on good footing.
Until the bartender flips channels, and the buzz of conversation hitches up a notch as the screen shows an all-too-familiar logo—two rings entwined with a gaudy flourish. The Bridesmaid to Bride logo spins before settling in the corner.
“Hey, turn it up—it’s us!” someone shouts. My eyes feel a magnetic pull toward the screen, the way they do at the fender-bender on the side of the road.
“Isn’t that the show we’re all—” Bonnie starts, but her words get swallowed by the swell of excitement as the volume climbs.
“Here we go, folks,” the bartender announces, a half-grin on his face like he knows he’s about to serve up a fresh round of scandal.
The Special Wedding Weekend episode one preview cuts through the chatter, a glossy montage of white dresses and champagne flutes, until there it is—West and me on screen, our bodies pressed so close you’d need a crowbar to pry us apart.
My eyeballs nearly pop from my head—what the hell? Why are they showing us? And then I see our faces—flushed and hungry as we both look like we’re trying to eat each other.
Christ, this is that hallway kiss! And holy God, what a kiss it is. West’s hands are all over my ass. I’m clawing at his hair. We’re sucking face and not coming up for air, and watching it is making me want to run behind the bar.
Nobody was supposed to see this. But I have to admit, it’s hot—like hellified hot. I mean, did they turn up the heat in here or what? But when I look around, nobody is looking at me. They’re staring at the TV, not able to take their eyes off the screen, either.
Our lips continue moving in feverish sync, a tasty morsel to every voyeuristic eye in this place.
I clench my jaw tight enough to crack a walnut.
“Would ya look at that?” Buck nudges his wife with an elbow.
“Y’all were having a good ol’ time,” Bonnie says.
I shoot them a tight smile, my insides twisted in a knot.
West scrapes a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”
“Language!” Bonnie smacks his hand.
The screen’s glow feels like a spotlight, singeing my cheeks with the heat of a thousand suns. I want to evaporate.
Tyson, you asshole. I envision his smug face, probably high-fiving himself for catching that ratings-gold moment between West and me. I hope to God my father is asleep.
My eyes are stuck on the horror unfolding before me on the screen. “They can’t show this! Can they?”
“Actually, yes,” West says. “We contractually agreed that any public place is fair game for filming this weekend.”
“Dammit to the moon,” Buck mumbles, eyes bulging. “This’ll be the talk of the town.”
And that’s all I can take. “If you’ll excuse me.” I slide out of my seat, walk off the patio, then sprint back to my room.