Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Loren
“Wow! I didn’t think you’d be so crowded tonight,” I call out.
Maybe not loud enough.
But after a beat, Maddie, the head bartender at Tequila Mockingbird, stops wiping the glossy countertop and glances up at me.
Her hair is a riot of rust-colored curls, and the diamond in her nose sparkles under the pendant lights.
“We’re always crowded,” she says with a grin. “You’re just never here.”
“Fair.” I wrinkle my nose. “I don’t get out much.”
My eyes sweep the room, surveying the throngs of people who do get out.
The ones who come to catch sports on the various flat screens stand nearest to the bar.
Beyond them are the minglers, people chatting and laughing in noisy circles.
The rest of the crowd mills around, blocking my view of the back corner.
Maddie nods toward a stage across the room, where some poor woman is giving “My Heart Will Go On” her very best effort. “When we instituted Karaoke Night, we had no idea there were so many wanna-be American Idols in Harvest Hollow.”
“Nice.”
She grimaces.
“Not nice?”
“Let’s just say there are very few Celine Dions in this town. You’ll need earplugs if Gary puts you on the schedule for Mondays. Your application is up next in my stack for review. But I can pretty much tell you now, you’ll get the job.”
“About that,” I say, my voice strained above the screeching. “I need to rescind.”
“Really?” Maddie’s eyebrows lift. “I told Gary you seemed … eager. I even put in a good word for you as a friend of Dex’s.”
“Eager’s a kind word for what I was.” I wince. “But it looks like I won’t be needing a second job after all. I’m sorry.”
“No worries.” She shrugs. “I’m honestly relieved for you. Don’t get me wrong. I love working here, but night and weekend shifts would’ve been a lot once school started up again.”
“My thoughts exactly.” I go up on my toes to scan the room again.
“If you’re looking for Dex, he and Sayla are in the back. They just had a bucket of champagne delivered to their table.”
“Fun!” I fake a smile.
So much for staying under the radar.
“Newlyweds, right?” Maddie smirks. “Those two are just so disgustingly happy.”
Ah, okay. So that’s the angle they’re playing up. I should’ve known Dex and Sayla wouldn’t have been so obvious.
“On that note.” Maddie tips her head. “Aren’t you a newlywed too?”
I blink at her, startled. How on earth would Maddie have heard about Bridger and me? I press out a nervous laugh. “You must be thinking about someone else.”
A guy shoves his way up to the bar, calling out for two IPAs, so Maddie grabs a couple of chilled bottles from the fridge, pops the tops, and hands them over.
“Pretty sure I’m thinking about you,” she tells me, moving to the register to update the guy’s tab. “I never forget a conversation.”
“With me?” I squeak.
“No, Sayla. She was in here last fall, babbling about some romantic dinner you were having with your fiancé. Then again, that woman can’t hold her liquor. She’s sweet, but she was toast before her second glass of wine.”
Foster.
Sayla was talking about Foster.
I choke out a laugh, part relieved, part nauseated. “Well, I’m not engaged.” Anymore. “Or married.” Until tomorrow.
“Then we have that in common,” Maddie snarks, darting a glance at the back corner of the bar. “Have fun with the newlyweds tonight,” she says. “Maybe encourage your friend to stick to one glass of champagne.”
“Aye aye, Captain,” I say. Then I make things worse by saluting her.
Hot flames shoot up my neck as Maddie’s lip quirks. “Ahoy, matey.”
I’d been planning to ask her to send Bridger over when she sees him, but he’ll have to fend for himself now. I’m way too busy pushing my way through the sea of people, hoping to escape the pirate ship of awkwardness I just left at the bar.
“We’re over here!” Dex calls out, waving me over from across the room. He and Sayla are at a high-top table tucked into a dark corner. Four half-filled champagne flutes are in the center, along with an open bottle chilling in an ice bucket.
As I approach, Dex hands me one of the glasses. “Welcome, bride-to-be!”
“Hold please,” Sayla chirps, lifting her phone high. “Okay, smile!”
“What are you doing?”
“Act surprised!”
I freeze, trying to talk without moving my lips. “Am I supposed to smile or act surprised?”
“Just keep doing what you’re doing.” She takes a series of pictures, both landscape and portrait.
“You look like a deer in headlights, which will make perfect sense when Bridger tells his mom all about how your best friends surprised you with a night-before-the-wedding bachelor and bachelorette parties.”
“Ahhh. Got it.” Feedback shrieks from the karaoke speakers, and I cringe. “I just wasn’t prepared for all this,” I admit, arranging my face into what I hope looks like gratitude. “It’s … a lot.”
“Hey.” Dex puts a hand on my elbow. “You all right?”
“Oh, sure,” I say, a little too enthusiastically.
“I think I’ve just spent a few too many nights with a sixty-five-year-old man who can answer every question on Jeopardy, but sometimes forgets who I am.
” I force some laughter that’s extra bright and, possibly, overcompensatory.
In fact, that should probably be my theme word for this year.
Overcompensatory.
“You know what?” Sayla meets my gaze. “That’s a pretty good reminder of why we’re here in the first place. For your dad, right?”
“Yes … and … for Bridger,” I say, hoping my lips don’t tremble.
Her mouth curves up gently. “We’re here for you, too, Lo Lo.”
“I know, and you’re the best. Both of you.”
Dex lifts his glass. “To friendship.”
“To us.” Sayla raises her flute.
Behind me, a deep voice rumbles, “Toasting without me?” I startle and spin around, bumping into the wall of Bridger’s chest. He immediately reaches for my shoulders, steadying me with his wide palms. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“You didn’t.” On the contrary, I’d been feeling off-balance, but now a blanket of relief settles over me.
He’s changed into dark-wash jeans and a fitted henley that’s the same gray as his irises.
His tousled hair flops over his forehead like he’s been too busy to brush it. “I’m glad you’re here,” I say.
“Me too. Better late than never.”
“Look over here!” Sayla aims her phone camera at us. “Say cheese!”
Bridger glances down at me. “Photo evidence?”
“Exactly.”
He slides an arm around me.
And I don’t mind.
“Pretend to be a real couple,” Sayla says, taking another string of pictures. “Get closer, now.” Bridger gathers me to him, and as I sink into his arms, the scent of sandalwood envelops me. If the man was late because he had to shower with this body wash, so be it.
“Closer,” Sayla urges.
“If we get any closer, I’ll be on top of him,” I say.
Dex chortles. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“That’s enough.” Bridger shoots him a warning look. “Anyway, I’m pretty sure when I got here, I interrupted a toast.”
“You are correct, sir.” Dex pushes the remaining champagne flute into Bridger’s hand, then he makes another toast to friends, while Sayla records a boomerang on her phone.
“To best friends.” She sneaks a quick peek in my direction.
Bridger nods. “To the ones you’d do anything for.”
We all clink, and I take a sip, then move to set my glass down, but Bridger raises his again.
“To Loren’s dad.”
I blink.
“Good one.” Dex leans into the fresh toast. “To Mr. Loren’s dad.”
“To Harlan,” Sayla says.
“This is very nice.” I swallow against the lump in my throat. “But you’re going to make me cry.”
“No! No waterworks tonight,” Sayla says. “This is supposed to be a bachelor and bachelorette party, kids. So grab your drinks, and let’s go play some shuffleboard. Then darts. Maybe pool. And don’t forget to act casual. Like I’m not following you around taking oh-so-candid pictures and video.”
Over the next hour, we cycle through a series of games, competing in every combination of teams possible. First the girls go against the guys. Then Bridger and I play Sayla and Dex. When it’s our turn at the pool table, Dex and I even take on Bridger and Sayla.
Bridger wins every time, no matter who he’s partnered with.
Afterward, Dex nudges me. “Your future husband is one of those people who’s annoyingly good at everything. Did you know this?”
“I can’t say I did.”
“Well, not everyone feels the need to showboat all the time.” Bridger chuckles. “Not that I’m naming any names.”
“I will,” Sayla sings out. “Dexter Michaels!”
“Hey!” Dex throws his hands up in mock protest. “I can’t help it if I’m a naturally gifted athlete, who also happens to be devastatingly handsome and—against all odds—incredibly smart.”
Sayla rolls her eyes, but she's giggling. “And you wonder why I couldn’t stand you for the first however many years we knew each other.”
He tugs her to him. “Denial is a legitimate river, sweetheart.”
As we drift back to our table, all laughing and light, I’m feeling less stressed than I have in as long as I can remember.
I even manage to forget, for a moment, the monumental task Bridger and I are undertaking tomorrow.
Not just getting married, but convincing his mother that our relationship is real.
Sayla, however, hasn’t forgotten.
“Hey, Lo, I just shared a bunch of pics and videos in our group thread.”
“Thanks, Say.”
“After the ceremony, I’ll make an album with some video montages you can send to Bridger’s mom.”
“That reminds me,” he says, digging in the pocket. He pulls out a smallish black box, and my mouth suddenly feels cottony. Like socks fresh from the dryer.
“Whoa.” Sayla’s eyes widen. “Is that a ring?”