Chapter -14-
“Are you quite sure,” Braylon is saying, his voice low and awed, “this is an engagement party?”
“More like an engagement extravaganza, ” Denz says.
He’s been to two of these before. First, at fifteen, for Taylor’s fairy-tale soirée at a hilltop Italian villa outside Atlanta. Then, when he was eighteen, for Madisen’s enchanting celebration on a lush peach farm. But this ? Nothing compares to what Kami has pulled together.
The company has rented out the entire Atlanta Botanical Garden for Emily and Warner.
Behind a roped-off area, photographers stand ready to capture the latest arrivals.
Ten-foot arches wrapped in fairy lights create an entrance into the gardens.
And against the fiery rose skyline, the lights look like stars suspended by a god’s hand.
“This is an experience,” Braylon comments.
Denz turns. The glowing archway has nothing on Braylon in an ivory blazer and midnight-black button-up, his curls neatly styled. His tie—a startling bloodred—complements his honey-brown skin.
The absolute nerve of Braylon Adams to show up looking like the promising beginning of a dream has destabilized Denz’s concentration.
“We should,” he attempts. “We need to, uh…”
Braylon dips his head to whisper, “Plan?”
They agreed to meet early. Strategize. It’s their first appear ance together since the gala. Their last real chance to win the Carters over before his dad makes a final decision. Tonight needs to be perfect.
Yet, the one brain cell Denz has left is so focused on how soft Braylon’s lips look from this angle, he forgets to nod.
“Should we—” Braylon’s eyes trace Denz’s face. “—go about it the way we did on Valentine’s?”
“You mean argue about The Bachelor in front of everyone?”
“No, you git. Improv. If we’re asked any questions.”
Denz tries to form a response, but Braylon reaches up. His thumbs brush lint from Denz’s lapels. It’s infuriating, the way his body stiffens and relaxes at the same time.
“Save it for the pictures, losers.”
Kami appears from around a corner in a sleeveless, Catalina-blue drape-front dress with gold heels. Her hair’s elegantly pinned up, showing off her heart-shaped face, her pearl necklace.
“Quite stunning, Kamila,” Braylon says by way of greeting.
“Not trying to outdo the guest of honor, are you?” Denz teases.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Kami smirks. “You two look… cozy.”
Denz is spared from giving a stammering, pathetic response. Soon, Jordan hustles up, speaking breathlessly into an earpiece. He has a tablet tucked under one arm, a phone in hand, and the eyes of a man seconds from cracking.
“Guests are mingling. Tables are set. Tech check is good,” he rattles off. “Kim says appetizers are ready. Sedwicks almost here.”
“My dad?” Kami asks while procuring the phone from his shaky grip.
“Arrived ten minutes ago.”
“Entrance music?”
“Fixed,” Jordan swears. “Warner’s request for Black Eyed Peas ‘I Gotta Feeling’ has been nixed.”
Braylon looks mortified.
“Wonderful.” Kami types out an email before eyeing Jordan. “When was the last time you hydrated?”
“Two hours ago?”
“Water. Now,” she instructs. “Deep breaths, J. We’ve got this.”
Jordan nods before grinning. “Damn, you’re good at this.” He double-times it back in the direction he came from.
Kami stares blankly at her phone.
Denz stands back, trying to filter his expression. It’s not that he hasn’t seen Kami in action. He’s been by her side enough times to know she’s all business, never rattled. But it’s different now. Her name is on the line.
Underneath all the poise and elegance, Denz can see the 5 percent of fear that she’s not enough, a feeling he lives with twenty-four-seven.
“You two,” Kami says, back in command mode, “photos, then inside for dinner and speeches.”
Denz tenses.
On Valentine’s, he didn’t have to worry about couple-y red-carpet photos. He was running the show. Braylon was late. He’s been lucky that the press hasn’t given much attention to his social media posts featuring Braylon’s hands. Only his followers have.
If he poses for the photographers with his “boyfriend” by his side, they’ll be trending by morning. Braylon’s a private man. Always has been.
Denz promised not to cross that line.
“Lovebirds?” Kami inspects them. “Something wrong?”
“Could we,” Denz says way faster than he expects, “skip the step-and-repeat?”
Kami tilts her head.
Something prickly and familiar sets into Denz’s bones. He hasn’t felt it since college. When his family wanted to know everything about his new boyfriend and Denz wanted nothing more than to protect this thing he had with Braylon.
“I mean, I look great, but…” He waves a hand in Braylon’s direction. “I don’t want this guy feeling average standing next to me.”
“How dare you,” Braylon huffs.
“Truth hurts.”
“He looks amazing,” Kami argues.
Denz gives his sister a long look. “Kami, please . Just this once?”
She scrutinizes him for a beat, then pivots in the opposite direction. “Follow me.”
Walking through the gardens is like stepping into an Alice in Wonderland daydream.
The centerpiece is a wide stone fountain.
Sitting on the water’s surface are lush green swirls of grass and colorful petals.
Guests mingle over champagne, surrounded by towering lawn structures shaped like the Mad Hatter’s hat, the Cheshire Cat, the Dormouse.
Tea candles light a path to the main banquet table where Emily and Warner are sandwiched between family and friends.
“No doves? Helicopter entrances?” Denz asks.
Kami’s mouth pinches. “We compromised.”
“Do I want to know?”
“Nope. You’ll see later.”
The music’s soft, an effortless rotation of current pop hits and country classics.
People drift from the manicured lawns to the dinner area.
Virginia bluebells, specially flown in, sprout from vases on each table.
Not a single peony in sight. Denz is impressed with Kami’s dedication to throwing the Kenneth Carter playbook in the trash.
Denz’s stomach clenches. By the bar, his dad is watching closely. The tension from their office talk hasn’t faded.
An unexpected hand rests against the small of Denz’s back. He gazes up at Braylon, catching the pointed look he directs toward the bar.
A resigned sigh leaves Denz’s lips when he notices the aunties and uncles joining his dad. “Ready to face the wolves again?”
“Wolves? Hardly.” Braylon scoffs. “They’re pups. I haven’t yet shown them my teeth.” He flashes his canines, winking.
Denz laughs. “Who the hell are you?”
“What?”
“You’re just…” Denz shakes his head. He tries to stomp out that warmth spreading in his sternum. “Nothing.”
“We can avoid them a bit longer,” Braylon offers, rubbing the knot from Denz’s trapezius. “If you want?”
“Yes, please.”
He lets Braylon guide him away. The sea of faces is a strange mix of Warner’s rowdy teammates, B-list celebrities, and the political types.
Denz is accustomed to entertaining this crowd, but he forgets how weird it must be for Braylon.
He doesn’t show it, chin lifted until they’re at Kami’s side again as she animatedly gives instructions to her team.
“No problem,” Jordan says.
“Kami, sweetie !”
Emily Sedwick, looking like an Amy Adams Disney princess in an off-the-shoulder, tear-drop-blue ball gown, approaches. Her gold hair is spun up with flowers. She squeezes Kami’s hands like she’s being chased by an evil witch—or a rabid future mother-in-law.
“Save me,” Emily pleads theatrically. “Work your magic.”
To her credit, Kami’s smile doesn’t falter. She goes full event manager mode, beelining through the crowd with Emily in tow.
Denz is praying for whoever crosses her tonight.
Someone at the head table clinks a fork against a champagne flute.
“Maybe we should,” Braylon says, minty breath brushing Denz’s cheek, “find our seats?”
“And a lot of alcohol,” Denz advises.
Kami has arranged a table for just the three of them. Far from the aunties and uncles and their dad. His sister works in mysterious, benevolent ways.
When the speeches start, it’s very apparent the booze was flowing long before the Sedwicks arrived.
Mr. Sedwick jokingly recounts threatening Warner’s life during their first meeting.
Mrs. Sedwick dedicates her three minutes to a dead relative, which leaves everyone cringing.
Taylor and Madisen regale the guests with their own engagement party stories before breaking into an off-key rendition of “I Say a Little Prayer.” It’s all downhill from there.
Denz orders two lemon drop martinis just to survive.
Halfway through a story from Warner’s fourth-grade teacher, Denz pokes Kami’s shoulder. “Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Do you think the aunties had anything to do with our event assignments?” As Kami’s confused eyebrows lift, Denz adds quietly, “Think about it. You got an engagement party even though they love to bring up what happened with Matthew. And Valentine’s Day went to me, the one who’s never had a man they approved of. ”
“They like Braylon.”
Denz shoots her a do they really? look.
She snorts. “It’s a coincidence.”
“It’s a conspiracy .”
“You’re giving them far too much credit.”
“Whatever,” Denz grumbles. He’s not sure if it’s the sweetly romantic ambiance. Or maybe the alcohol. Whatever it is, his next question comes in a nervous whisper: “Did you ever, like, picture yourself at one of these things?”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He does but is too embarrassed to say it. “If you had one of these parties for yourself, what would it be like?”
Kami thinks. “Hypothetically?”
“The most hypothetic of hypotheticals.”
“I’d want simple. Nothing like this. More… personal .” He can tell she’s imagining it. Her eyes sparkle as she says, “Mikah’s favorite mini cheesecakes. A live band playing the songs me and my fiancé fell in love to. No speeches because, hello, have you met our family ?”
Denz bites his knuckles to stifle a laugh.