Chapter 27
Warner
The magic of the sunset high on a terrace in the New York skyline is captured as the backdrop for the “I dos.” While the newly married couple kiss, my gaze gravitates toward the back left of the guests to discover Delaney’s eyes already on me.
The guests are clapping, pulling my attention back to the bride and groom as they make their way down the aisle.
I follow with the maid of honor on my arm, wishing I were walking this aisle with my girl.
I miss the heat between us, the electricity that sparks to life with each touch we share, and the magnetism that draws us together every time we’re in the same vicinity.
I lose sight of her as we’re shuffled off to the side while the crowd disperses to the bank of elevators that will take them to the reception on the second floor of this grand hotel.
After taking too many photos and sharing a solid embrace with my friend on his special day, the wedding party is sent to enjoy the reception while the couple stays behind for a private moment.
The elevator took so long to return to the terrace that I considered taking the stairs down the twenty-five flights to reach Delaney sooner.
But I hold it together and pretend to engage in conversation with the others.
As soon as I enter the ballroom, I search for the light blue of her dress or any sign of where she might be.
The dim lights create a flattering ambiance, while music pumps through speakers around the room.
And even though it’s classical jazz, it’s too loud to call out for her.
Not that I would do that during an event like this, but it’s tempting.
I search the dance floor and then walk along the longest wall toward one of the bars set up at the back of the room.
I stop to search the dessert bar just beyond the buffet line. That’s where she is. I cut through small groups standing in the walkway between tables and weave through the maze, losing sight of her. As soon as I finally make it there, she’s gone again.
“Looking for a date?” The sweet sound of her voice has me turning around.
“No thanks. I got one.” My ass is smacked in a roar of laughter when I start to walk off.
I turn back in a flash and pick her up into my arms before she can escape.
Our lips meet in the middle, but before the kiss deepens, because it could so easily, I set her down again.
Running my hand over the soft skin of her neck, I say, “I have the most beautiful date in the room.”
“Only the room?” Her chest racks with laughter again as she reaches up to wrap her arms around my neck.
“New York City,” I reply, chuckling as my gaze wanders through the options I can think of. “The state, the country. The continent, and the world.” Looking into her eyes, I whisper, “You’re the most beautiful woman in the universe.”
“Is this another play for the blow job? Because this flattery is working.”
“Say the word, and we’ll ditch this place.”
She looks back at the buffet line, which is still growing. “Can we ditch it after we eat? I stole a brownie bite, but I’m starving.”
“I can eat,” I reply, taking her hand and leading us to join the back of the line.
“Is that an offer for later?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” When we get in line, I lean toward her ear. “You’re my favorite dessert, Sass.”
“Such a charmer tonight. I should bring you to weddings more often.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I kiss the top of her head. “What can I say? Love is in the air.”
We go through the buffet line and then find our two seats at a table in the far corner from the dance floor.
I get drinks from the bar. Fortunately, my fingers are getting stronger, even with the cast on, so carrying a champagne stem is not a problem.
It’s good to feel somewhat normal again.
I take a sip of my bourbon just before I’m called up to give the best man’s speech.
I try to find Delaney’s eyes, but the room has gone dark with an empty spotlight waiting for me to fill on the dance floor.
I set the drinks down on the nearest table before pulling my phone from my pocket and recalling memories from Jimmy’s and my past, landing a few good-natured jokes about his awful dating life, and sharing a few embarrassing stories to build up to the main event that led us here today.
He talked to her on a dare because I knew she was the one for him.
Before he did, I added for levity. It was quite the crowd-pleaser.
When I wrap it up, I go straight to hug the lucky couple, wishing them luck before I grab the glasses and head back to find Delaney.
When I return to our table, some schmuck has stupidly sat down next to her. My blood doesn’t boil because I’m not threatened by his paisley purple tuxedo and slicked-back gelled helmet for hair. But I don’t like it when he leans in, forcing her to lean away from him.
And here I thought I’d have to go looking for trouble to get another black eye for my girl’s pleasure. Looks like it found me. “Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” I set the drinks down next to her, getting a strong suspicion I might need my hands free from objects.
The guy glances at me and then returns to speak to Delaney like I didn’t say a damn word. Delaney says to the guy, “You need to move. This is his seat.”
When he grabs her wrist and says, “Let’s dance,” my blood fucking boils.
As soon as he stands, Delaney’s already ripped her wrist free, but now he’ll deal with me. “Don’t touch my wife again.”
He glances from my hand to hers, catching on quickly that I might be lying. “Wife?” He laughs. “She’s not wearing a ring. Only a green stain on her finger, ya cheap bastard. Did you buy her ring out of a candy machine?”
The reflex to send him to his grave has me pulling my arm back, but Delaney’s hands land so fast on my chest that I’m pushed back a step. “No, Warner.”
“Down boy,” the guy says, still laughing, but this time, he begins to back away with his arms up in front of him. “She’s got that leash tight around that collar of yours.”
I lower my arm. “Get the fuck out of here.” There always has to be one asshole in the crowd. He’s probably some drunk-ass distant cousin one of their mothers insisted on inviting. From the slightest Midwestern accent I pick up on, he sure as fuck isn’t from around here.
“She ain’t that hot, man.” He’s quick to slip through some couples standing near the next table.
The encounter doesn’t bother me as much as the confidence I see draining from Delaney. Her expression fell along with her shoulders, which she held back before he came around.
“You know it’s bullshit, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Swallowing seems to strain the plastered grin she had for me. “We should eat something,” she says, sitting down again.
When I sit next to her, she takes a bite of a roll, but the chicken and the salad are still untouched. She can’t seem to will herself to eat despite probably wanting the distraction.
I rub her back and pull her to my side. “He doesn’t matter.”
“That’s what sucks. I know he doesn’t, but he still managed to get in my head.”
“You know what? Fuck him. Fuck this whole thing. I know a great Italian place on the West Side.”
Her smile blooms for me. “Bayetti’s?”
“Yeah, you think we can get a reservation on a Saturday night on short notice?”
With her mood lifted, she says, “I can pull a few strings.”
I stand, taking her by the hand. When we turn, my mother is there. Her eyes go from me to the hand I’m holding. “Hello, Son.” She looks at Delaney without so much as a smile. “I don’t remember us being formally introduced last time. I’m Grace Landers. You’re Delaney Bayetti. Is that right?”
The sudden shiver in her hand has me wrapping mine around it and holding it at my side. I’m not sure how my mother knows, but her investigative skills are impressive. Delaney replies, “Yes.”
“Bayetti is Italian?”
I hear Delaney gulp just fine over the music, and I’m sure my mother does as well. She exhales and says, “It is. My mom is from Connecticut. My dad is from New York. His family goes back to Italy for a few generations.”
When silence falls between them, I say, “We were just leaving.”
“That’s too bad,” my mother says, looking genuinely disappointed.
A sympathetic smile lifts the corners of her mouth.
“I was hoping to spend some time with your friend to get to know her better.” Turning to Delaney, she takes her hand right out of mine and holds it between both of hers.
“Warner never introduces me to his friends. Well,” she says with an eye roll, “except James.”
“I didn’t know you were on the guest list, or we would have looked for you.”
She leans in conspiratorially and whispers, “I skipped the ceremony. I just stopped by for a glass of champagne and a piece of cake.” Shooting her gaze to Sass, she adds, “But then I found out it was carrot cake. Why someone would want a vegetable in their cake is beyond me.”
She and Delaney share a laugh while I stand there dumbfounded.
My mother isn’t a cruel woman. Strict when I was growing up and hands off for the most part, but I was taken care of.
I’ve just never seen this side of her directed at me before, though admittedly, I have when she and my dad hosted parties, and I would eavesdrop. Turning over a new leaf?