Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
“Oh!” exclaimed sweet little Kennedy Hempstead, bride-to-be extraordinaire, as she went flying back into the gift table. All those perfectly wrapped boxes tumbled to the ground and the chatter around them died as Kate looked down at Kennedy, sprawled out among her destroyed wedding gifts. She looked almost ethereal in her flapper-inspired dress studded in crystalline beads that had probably been handsewn by some beleaguered apprentice in Paris.
“Shit,” Kate muttered, shaken out of her horrified reverie by the sight of Kennedy crumpled up among the dented boxes and bags. She reached forward, helping the poor girl up, a wave of coconut and lemongrass wafting out of her glossy, perfect beach waves. Except the lacy sleeve of Kate’s dress got caught in Kennedy’s massive diamond pendant necklace, and when she made to help the girl stand up, she accidentally choked her with her own necklace instead. “Oh, wait, hold still! My sleeve is… Hang on. Oh, shit .”
She struggled with the lace, lamenting the ripping sound as she managed to pull the fabric free. More crunches followed as they struggled upright with a captive audience, Kate teetering dangerously on her heels and Kennedy dazed from the fall. There was a blinding flash and Kate caught sight of the wedding photographer as he flitted through the crowd. Great, now there was photographic evidence. Why would he even take that photo? For blackmail, probably.
“I’m so sorry,” Kate said, holding on to Kennedy for balance. “These shoes, they’re an absolute menace. I was going to change them—”
“It’s okay, Kate,” Kennedy said, still a little unsteady. But she gave Kate a brilliant smile that was all perfectly aligned teeth and expertly applied makeup, throwing her arms around Kate’s neck in a surprisingly strong hug. “I’m just glad you could make it!”
“Oh,” Kate said, put off-balance by her enthusiasm. The surrounding guests were less enthusiastic, watching with judgmental expressions. “Happy wedding weekend?”
Kennedy pulled back. “Spencer thought you might miss the wedding because of Loretta. Didn’t you, Spencey?”
“Technically, I said she’d use it as an excuse,” came Spencer’s baritone from over Kate’s shoulder.
Kate tensed, bracing herself to face her fiancé—ex-fiancé, she had to remember the ex—for the first time in six months. At his own wedding. To someone else. Kate pivoted, and damn those stilettos, because her other ankle turned and she lost her balance again and face-planted into Spencer’s jacket, dragging Kennedy with her. Spencer stiffened as he caught her, Kennedy tumbling to the floor beside them.
“Oh,” Kennedy said again in her sweet voice.
“Still a wiz on heels, I see.” Spencer grunted. “And that’s… quite a dress.”
“Spencer,” she hissed, her gaze darting furtively around the circle of onlookers entranced by this new development in the saga. Kennedy struggled to get up, but Spencer still hadn’t let Kate go. “Spencer, your bride . Help your bride.”
“Right,” Spencer said gruffly, abruptly pushing her upright and blinking through his customary tortoiseshell glasses (which she’d learned a full year into their relationship were not actually prescription). He wore a suit just nice enough that she knew Kennedy must have paid for it, and just rumpled enough that she knew he hadn’t bothered steaming it before putting it on.
“Sorry, Kennedy,” Spencer said, helping his bride up. “All better?”
“Yes, of course, thank you, Spencey,” Kennedy said, giving him a smile that he completely missed because he’d already released her, turning back to square off with Kate.
“So, you came,” he said, frowning. “I didn’t think you would.”
“Of course I would,” Kate said brightly, as much for the assembled crowd as for him.
“I assumed you would have some other convenient excuse, like the plague or yellow fever,” he said. “But since you’re here, I expect you have something for me? Some overdue chapters, perhaps?”
“All work and no play,” Kate said with a plastered smile, turning to Kennedy. “Kennedy, everything looks beautiful. You must be so happy.”
“I’m just so glad you’re here,” Kennedy said, playing with her diamond pendant. “If it were up to me, we would have invited all of Spencey’s authors! So many brilliant minds, it would have been amazing to have you all together this weekend. But he was a stickler about the guest list, even though I told him we have plenty of room here.”
“And I told her most editors don’t invite their entire author list to their wedding weekend,” Spencer said, pulling off his glasses and untucking the edge of his shirt to clean the lenses. It was his poker tell, a nervous habit he’d developed under his mother’s increasingly invasive questions about his and Kate’s wedding plans. He was hiding something. He put the glasses back on, blinking as if he could suddenly see again despite having LASIK surgery years ago. “But you know Kennedy, we’re all one big family at Simon Says.”
“Because we are!” Kennedy said. “Simon is walking me down the aisle, Juliette is a bridesmaid, and you’re the groom! Of course we’re all one big happy family.”
“One big happy family,” Spencer echoed with far less enthusiasm as Kennedy hugged herself to his side. Spencer went stiff at the contact, which Kate considered odd behavior for a groom. Still, Spencer was as good at public displays of affection as he was at line dancing. Kate wouldn’t be surprised if he insisted on a handshake instead of the customary kiss tomorrow.
“I hope you liked your room okay,” Kennedy said to Kate, oblivious to her future husband’s tension. “I picked it out especially for you. I know it’s a bit of a trek to get up there, but it’s warm and cozy and filled with books, and far away from the crowds. It’s my favorite room in the house. I used to stay there when I would visit Grandpa Ferdinand.”
“That’s… so thoughtful,” Kate said, and she meant it. “It’s perfect, Kennedy.”
And it was perfect, and of course Kennedy had been so thoughtful as to pick it out for Kate. And that was why, despite everything, Kate couldn’t actually hate Kennedy. Because she was a genuinely, infuriatingly, kind person.
“I know it’s a bit small for two, but I think you’ll make it work,” Kennedy said, giving Kate a wink.
Kate’s mouth fell open. “How did you know—”
Kennedy leaned in close, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I knew Spencey would never let me invite him on his own, but if he came as your plus-one? Well, he couldn’t say no then, could he?”
So it hadn’t been a clerical error; Kennedy had made Jake her plus-one. That was…
“Surprisingly devious,” Kate said out loud.
“I know,” Kennedy said with a mischievous smile.
“Kate,” Spencer said, in that tone that meant he was about to launch into a lecture. But then his eyes flickered over her shoulder, his expression turning sour. “Ah, is this the reason why I don’t have my Loretta pages yet?”
“Is what… why?” Kate asked, at a loss.
“What did I miss?” Jake asked, handing her a glass. “Got the drinks, darling.”
“Darling?” Kate repeated stupidly, as if she’d never heard the word in her life. Come to think of it, she’d definitely never heard it directed at her . And certainly not from Jake Hawkins.
And as if that wasn’t enough, he slid his arm around her waist, pulling her in close and nuzzling the soft spot of skin behind her ear with his nose, instantly turning her entire body to jelly. “Play along, Katey cakes. There was some chatter among the guests that’s best not repeated, but suffice it to say you could use a lifeline right now.”
Kate glanced at the guests trying their best to act like they weren’t shamelessly eavesdropping. She should have expected as much, after the stunt with Kennedy and the gift table and Spencer’s odd behavior toward his bride. Still, she wasn’t going to stay upright on these damn stilettos if Jake nuzzled her one more time.
“So, it’s true, then,” Spencer said, taking his glasses off to fidget with them so hard he bent one of the arms. “When did this happen?”
“Well, Spence, when was it you and Kennedy got together?” Jake asked, so casually Spencer didn’t feel the barb until it was buried in his gut. “Must have been right around then.”
For the rest of her life, as long as she lived, Kate would cherish the memory of the look on Spencer’s face just then. He looked as if someone had put their fist straight into his gut right as he took a whopping bite of a meatball sub, and the guy to do it had been Cary Grant or Ryan Gosling. His back bowed out, his cheeks sucked in, and his eyes went glassy.
“That long?” Kate managed to get out. “Why, it feels like only… today.”
“Such is the nature of love, darling,” Jake said, tightening his arm around her waist, scattering her last coherent thought. The look he gave her was pure sin, and he leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. But she anticipated it and turned her head so that his lips pressed against hers. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he drew her in.
Kate had meant the maneuver as a form of proof to Spencer that she had indeed moved onward and upward. But Jake held her there, so much of him pressed against so much of her, his lips lingering on the fullness of her lower lip. He was holding back, she could swear it, but even at that the contact tingled all the way down to her toes. His lips lingered— regretfully, punishingly—as if to say he knew what she was doing and he didn’t approve. Kate was certain of one thing—the full power of his kiss would be absolutely devastating. She wouldn’t survive it.
“Thank you,” she huffed as he pulled back.
Jake chuckled. “If you’re going to thank me for kissing you, Katey cakes, we’ll have a long night ahead of us.”
Spencer made a choking noise, Kennedy sighed softly, and Kate was positive she’d died and gone to heaven or hell. Or a hot and sweaty combination of both.
“Oh my gosh, I love it!” Kennedy practically squealed, drawing both of them into a spontaneous hug. “Love at my wedding! We need to toast this. Oh, I had a champagne glass, didn’t I? Where did it go?”
They searched around the wreckage of the guest table, and it was Kate who discovered the cut-crystal glass with the word Bride laser engraved on the side. “Here it is! Oh, but it looks like whatever you were drinking might have gotten… drunk.” More like spilled into a hundred-year-old carpet, but Kate didn’t need any more black marks on her record at this point. “How about I get you a refill?”
“Let a server handle it,” Spencer said. “You and I still have business to discuss.”
“Business?” Kate said, backing away from the conversation and the threat of discussing pages she hadn’t written. “At a wedding? Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be right back!”
She slipped away before any of them could stop her, setting a determined course toward the bar.