Chapter 17 Love’s Lookin’ Good on You
Love’s Lookin’ Good on You
Jamie
Marcus Thompson: Bet.
Jamie Gallagher: Gonna be a great weekend.
Nick Serrano: the best.
Travis Murphy: I got the Cubans on the way!!
Chris G: Maybe we should refrain from talking about committing crimes in the group chat?
Marcus Thompson: Taking notes on a criminal fucking conspiracy lol
Jamie Gallagher: Lmao
Travis Murphy: My fault. Strike that from the record.
Nick Serrano: lol I cant wait to see yall.
At some point in his life, Jamie did enjoy weddings.
And not just attending them, but he could once upon a time remember being vaguely flattered when a friend would ask him to take part in the festivities.
It was an honor to stand by someone he loved as they made eternal promises to someone they loved.
And despite whatever protestations he might have had about dancing in front of strangers, weddings were fun.
The Electric Slide was fun. So he wasn’t sure when the tides turned and he began to genuinely hate the very concept of a wedding.
When his oldest friend from high school, Rachael Horton, got engaged, his second thought, after Fucking finally (because she and Nick Serrano had been together since high school ) was the dread associated with being in the wedding.
He liked to believe it was Lucy’s fault, having ruined all of his notions of love and anything involving it, but that just wasn’t true.
Even if Lucy had deigned to marry him, he wouldn’t have wanted a wedding.
Maybe he had just become curmudgeonly in his old age, announcing how uncomfortable he was to anyone who’d listen.
“God, I hate weddings.” It was the third time he’d said it out loud in the last twenty-four hours, at least.
Jamie’s friend Marcus snickered at his comment but elbowed him. “Everybody hates weddings,” he said. “At least you get to make the most of this shit.”
Jamie sent a sidelong glance to his friend as they waited for the photographer to direct them in the next photo. “What?”
“I’m not saying I’m not happy with Kira. I am. Hundred percent. But I am saying weddings are only useful when you’re single.”
Jamie hadn’t been single in so long, he was failing to make sense of the logic. He peered at Marcus, studying his face for hints as to what the hell he was talking about. But he got nothing but his usual playful expression, a glint in his dark eyes as he watched his wife posing with the bride.
“And why’s that?” Jamie finally asked.
Marcus gestured to two of the bridesmaids currently lining up on either side of the bride, all of them looking like sister wives in their matching saffron dresses. “Amy and Chloe have had their eyes on you since rehearsal.”
“What?”
“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”
“I’m not pretending,” Jamie said, containing his smile.
This was legitimate news to him, though he didn’t have the chops to act as though the information wasn’t gratifying.
Chloe and Amy were Rachael’s coworkers, and the only two members of the wedding party he hadn’t known for at least a decade.
They were both conventionally attractive, though much more outgoing than his speed would allow.
Of course, he wasn’t looking for anything.
Hell, he barely had a handle on whatever was happening with Eve.
But after the tumult of his time with Lucy, the idea that anyone was looking his way was indeed nice to hear.
Just as he was about to share this information with Marcus, the maid of honor, Robin, was approaching and wearing an expression that said she was on a mission.
Then again, that was usually her face. He’d always appreciated Robin’s no-bullshit approach to life.
She took it upon herself to fix Jamie’s sunflower boutonniere ahead of the next round of pictures.
“Why is he blushing?” she asked Marcus.
“He just found out a girl likes him.”
“No,” Jamie replied. “It’s just hot as hell out here.” He attempted to prove as much by wiping nonexistent sweat from his hairline.
It was actually a mild day for August. Warm, but not oppressive, especially once the sun slipped below the horizon.
The moment their friends announced the venue would be a barn, he’d been worried about relying on cross ventilation alone to keep them from sweating through their suits and dresses.
But it all ended up working out spectacularly.
Even with his ex and her boyfriend sitting a mere few feet away.
In fact, he could’ve used Lucy’s presence as a legitimate excuse for his ruddy hue, but in truth, he wasn’t particularly bothered to see her there.
He wasn’t ready to say he was over the situation, but it was starting to feel like he was no longer emotionally shackled to whatever she had going on.
He was thinking more about Eve than Lucy clinging to Tyler’s arm all day.
Once the newlyweds had taken all their pictures against the backdrop of the sunset, it was the bridal party’s turn.
All twelve of them smiled through a number of poses, from serious to silly, surrounding the pond, at the stables, and lined up along the grassy knoll just beyond the outbuilding.
They all piled inside a decked-out vintage Volkswagen camper that wasn’t really large enough to fit them all but would undoubtedly make for the most memorable photos, a series of action shots of impossibly beautiful people laughing at nothing in particular.
Not that Jamie considered himself particularly winsome, but he cleaned up nicely.
He’d gotten a haircut and a shave for the occasion, and Nick, the groom, made certain that their sapphire-blue suits were tailored to a tee.
While they completed their photo shoot, the barn had been converted into a reception area, rustic and chic like the ceremony before it, trimmed in wood and white, with chandeliers that looked like clusters of diamonds hanging from the rafters and sheer white curtains festooning every doorway and window.
Like a good groomsman, Jamie grinned through dinner conversations and toasts, including his own, and more pictures than anyone could ever possibly need.
But by the time everyone was on the dance floor, he found himself sitting at the bar by himself, trying to convince himself not to text Eve.
He always wondered what she did with her Saturday nights.
Soon enough, he would find out. But he refrained from asking, careful not to seem suffocating, trying to strike the balance between invested and aloof, as she did so adeptly.
So he sat at the bar, drinking his old-fashioned, watching in amusement as the white people in the room tried to keep up with everyone else on the Cupid Shuffle.
“Are you alone?”
He glanced at the redhead looming near him, her white skin rosy, her green eyes already dancing with him as she waited for his answer. “Am I alone?” he repeated, the question sounding foreign in the air. What did that mean? “As in right now?” At the wedding? In general?
“I’d been watching you,” she said, pointing toward the opposite end of the room, where the wedding party’s table had emptied out, “and I was just wondering if you were with that bridesmaid you were talking to.”
“Natasha?” Jamie made a face, the idea genuinely perplexing. “No.”
“Oh.” She grinned at him, flashing a perfect smile; he sent a polite one back and returned to his drink before the ice could water it down. “Okay…”
When he turned to order another, he realized the woman was still standing there, watching him, waiting. She was tall and lithe, with the figure and face of a model. Someone he’d never imagine noticing him, even with her standing there expectantly. “Did you want me to get you a drink?” he asked.
She chuckled. “It’s an open bar.”
“I…realize that.”
She looked around and then offered her hand. “I’m Bree.”
“Jamie.”
“I know who you are.”
“I’m so sorry, have we met before?” He was so confused.
“No…” She laughed again, and it was really starting to feel like there was some joke he wasn’t in on. “Like I said, I’ve been paying attention to you all night.”
“Ah. Well…it’s nice to meet you, Bree.” He resumed placing his order, leaving a ten-dollar tip for the bartender’s trouble.
As much as he’d been amused when Marcus mentioned Amy’s and Chloe’s interest, he didn’t actually know what to do with this kind of attention.
He wouldn’t anyway, but not now, not considering his…
situation with Eve. Maybe she wouldn’t care one way or another.
But maybe she would. Maybe he wasn’t alone.
“So, Jamie, any chance I can convince you to dance?” Bree asked, just as some thumping, up-tempo song overtook the room, every woman there seeming to know the words. Even Bree was already singing along as she tried to coax him to the floor.
“I…don’t dance,” he said with an awkward chuckle.
“Seriously?”
He shrugged. “Seriously.”
“That’s disappointing. I’m disappointed in you.”
“Better now than later.” He punctuated his statement with a matching wry grin.
She sent him another smile as she disappeared into the crowd on the dance floor, and he could feel the stranglehold of apprehension unwrapping itself from his neck.
He was in no way prepared to turn down this woman, and especially not when he barely had a reason to.
Sorry, I have a situation ? Genuine disinterest was valid, of course, but he couldn’t truthfully say that was the case.
He was perhaps simply more interested in someone else.
He abandoned his resolution not to bother Eve, feeling like he needed the reassurance that he wasn’t stupid for rebuffing Bree’s advances.
Sat, Aug 16 8:46PM
Jamie Gallagher: So, I’m at a wedding and I’ve been propositioned twice now. If I get a third, I should accept, right?
“She was flirting with you, Gallagher.”