Chapter 21
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The wedding was beautiful. Adrienne looked stunning in her satin gown that cascaded elegantly from a structured, fitted bodice.
Delicate lace trim adorned the neckline and hem, and subtle satin-covered buttons gave it an heirloom-quality.
The groom and groomsmen wore traditional tuxedos, each of them with a single red rose in the lapel.
After the ceremony, the room emptied, and they all went to one of the exterior rooms for the reception.
To Emmy’s alarm, the tables had name cards at each place—little delicate cardstock flowers with their names in curly script.
Emmy had seen this done at weddings before, and the bride usually grouped people with others they might know.
She perused the tables for her name. When she finally found her place card, she was beside Madison.
Holding her breath, she peered over to the flower to the left of hers: Charlie Russell. Next to him was Amelia Barclay.
“Oh, hey,” Charlie said, joining them, his date at his side. He turned to Amelia. “You remember Emmy from breakfast?”
“I do.” Amelia nodded, offering a self-assured smile. “Nice to see you again.”
“Same.”
“Shall we all get a drink?” Madison asked, bumping Emmy with her knee.
“Yes,” Emmy said. “Would you two like anything?”
“Oh, thanks for asking. We’ll get one in a minute,” Charlie said, pulling out a chair for Amelia.
Amelia draped her fur coat along the back of the chair and took a seat.
Madison was already pulling Emmy to the bar by the hand.
“Unbelievable that we’re seated with Charlie and his date,” Madison said.
“Not really. We all went to high school together.”
They reached the bar, and Madison handed Emmy a flute of champagne from the prepared supply at the edge before taking one for herself.
Emmy downed it in one go and set the empty glass on the silver tray to the side of them. Then, she took another glass.
“Okay, I’m ready,” she said. “Let’s go back to the table.”
Madison shuffled up beside her, her gaze shifting between Emmy’s empty glass on the bar and the one in her hand.
“What are we doing at the table, exactly?” Madison’s eyes rounded.
“Are you going to confront Charlie and ask why he brought someone else to the wedding? Oh, I wish we had popcorn. This will be good.”
Emmy stopped and faced her sister. “No. That’s absolutely not what I’m going to do. Charlie was free to bring anyone he wanted. I’m going to make conversation with Amelia so she isn’t so intimidating. I’m going to ask her questions about herself and try to be friendly.”
Madison made a face. “Oh, that’s... boring.”
Emmy shook her head. “Boring is good. Uneventful weddings are good.”
By the time the best man began his speech, Emmy had found out that Amelia was a financial analyst in the firm next to Charlie’s office in Chicago, she was the oldest of three kids, she’d never lost a promotion, and she’d met Charlie when she’d run into him on their lunch break, two years ago.
Well, Amelia had known adult Charlie as long as Emmy had, but Emmy held a secret triumph over her because she’d known the younger Charlie.
Emmy had all the years of laughter, the moments when they’d climbed trees in the slip of woods between their houses, the long summer days spent eating popsicles on a blanket in her backyard, the two-light-blink code they used in their bedrooms to let each other know they were still awake so they could sneak out and talk for hours after everyone else had gone to sleep.
She hadn’t thought of those days in a long time.
Once all the speeches had finished, the DJ began, and the crowd, now full of cake and dessert, had filtered onto the dance floor.
Amelia invited Charlie to dance. He offered Emmy an apologetic smile before disappearing into the crowd.
There was nothing to apologize for. It wasn’t his and Amelia’s job to entertain Emmy and Madison.
Charlie and Amelia were lost in the swarm of people with their hands raised, their feet moving in time to the beat.
Adrienne and the groom were at the center, smiling and having a wonderful time, Adrienne’s long train now bustled into wide folds of snowy white fabric that swished across the dance floor.
A handful of songs later, Emmy was still sitting next to her sister, picking at her piece of Victoria beaded-pearl wedding cake with lavender cream as they people-watched.
An old man danced with a little girl that might have been his granddaughter, spinning her around while her hair ballooned out of her headband.
Another couple stopped dancing, doubling over in laughter at something.
One portly man danced by himself, double-fisted with two glasses of champagne.
In the distance, Amelia and Charlie ducked out of the back door, and Emmy swallowed her disappointment.
She didn’t have a claim on Charlie. He could do whatever he wanted.
So why was the situation bothering her so much?
She guessed it was because he’d always made her feel like she was worth something.
At least, that was the main definable reason his being with Amelia bothered her.
She regretted not reaching out to him more between Christmases.
If she’d had her career sorted out, she might have had the capacity to try to develop a relationship with Charlie.
Who knew where things could’ve gone. But after seeing him with Amelia, she just felt as if she’d failed to take control of one more thing in her life.
Above all, she dared not admit that her disappointment was because, even after all these years, she still had feelings for him.
The song came to an end, and the DJ’s voice boomed through the room. “Could we clear the floor and have all the single ladies for the bouquet toss?”
The crowd parted and was replaced by a flock of giggling women stepping onto the dance floor.
Madison stood up. “That’s your cue.”
An icy shot pinged through Emmy’s veins. “You’re not suggesting I go up there, are you?”
“You are single. So yes.” Madison tugged Emmy’s arm, pulling her to a standing position.
“I’m not going.”
Madison’s face crumpled. “Why not?”
“Because it’s a silly tradition. And if the bouquet catch even holds a shred of magic, the last thing I want to do is steal the opportunity away from someone who might actually benefit from it.”
“But what if you need the magic?”
“There isn’t enough magic in the world to make me the next bride. And I don’t even necessarily want to be the next bride.”
“Last call for ladies,” the DJ boomed as a drum beat rolled through the room and Adrienne stepped in front of the growing crowd of women.
“Go.” Madison pushed her sister forward.
People were looking, so to not make a scene, Emmy irritably complied.
“On the count of three, Adrienne, send the bouquet over your head!” the DJ said. “Ready? One…”
Adrienne’s arm swung up into the air and then back down.
“Two…”
Her arm moved again.
Emmy, at the back of the group, stepped off to the right, hoping to be too far away to catch the bouquet. She looked around for Amelia but didn’t see her. At least Emmy had that going for her. No chance Amelia could be the next bride.
“Three!”
Adrienne threw the bouquet over her head. The ball of roses sailed toward Emmy. She tried to move, but a group of girls were beside her, trying to get it. Then, smack! The bouquet landed right in Emmy’s hands as if she were the star receiver on her college football team.
Adrienne threw her hands in the air. “Oh, my wonderful high school best friend!” She darted through the crowd and threw her pearl-lined satin arms around Emmy to the tune of the snare drum and cymbal: ba-dum-tss.
After Adrienne let go of her, Emmy put on a smile and held up the bouquet to the cheer of the crowd.
She pulled the arrangement of red roses, tied with satin ribbon, under her nose and inhaled the soft scent of the flowers.
Then, as everyone else made their way off the dance floor, Emmy headed toward her sister, already trying to come up with jokes.
The DJ had announced the men’s garter toss, and the single guys filled the floor. The DJ narrated the event and then the drum rolled, but Emmy was too busy thinking about how she’d stolen this moment, just as she’d said she didn’t want to do.
She cut her eyes playfully at her sister as the garter shot off, a masculine fist grabbing it above the crowd of bachelors.
Her sister’s eyes widened, a strange happiness spreading across her face.
“Emmy!” Adrienne said through the microphone.
Slowly, Emmy turned to find Adrienne and the groom clapping on the dance floor. Charlie was standing with them, holding the garter. Hadn’t he left with Amelia? What was he doing trying to catch the garter?
“Emmy,” Adrienne’s voice came through the microphone once more, this time in a low growl. “Come up here.”
The groom pulled a chair into the center of the floor, and Adrienne waved a hand toward it as if she were a game-show host.
Emmy looked around. The crowd cheered, clapping in unison to the beat while Adrienne spoke into the microphone: “Em-my. Em-my. Em-my.”
“You all know the drill,” the DJ said, music pumping behind his voice. “The garter holder must place his prize on the thigh of the woman who catches the bouquet!”
Adrienne set the mic down on the DJ stand and patted the chair.
Charlie locked eyes with Emmy, chewing on a grin. He spun the garter around his pointer finger.
Emmy scanned the crowd to gauge Amelia’s reaction but couldn’t find her. Where had she gone? Was she in the bathroom? With each step, Emmy’s heart pattered harder. She took a seat in the chair as the DJ played the Mission: Impossible theme tune.
Haha, funny.
Charlie stepped in front of her and kneeled, those green eyes on her. He slipped off her shoe and gently set her foot on his knee.
Nervously, she wiggled her newly pedicured toes.
He stretched the garter out with both hands and guided it over her foot as the crowd clapped.
She was sure that if he took his eyes off her face, he’d see her chest heaving with nerves, but he didn’t look away.
His soft touch moved up her leg, making it hard to breathe.
She forced air through her lungs and swallowed, barely even registering the drum roll and the laughter as Charlie inched the garter over her knee and up her thigh.
Just as she wondered how high he’d go, he drew his hands from under her skirt and held them up. Empty handed.
The crowd cheered.
Still trying to recover, Emmy slipped her shoe back on and stood up. The chair was swiftly removed by an attendant, as a slow song began to play.
Charlie held out his hand. “Dance?”
She looked around to be sure he’d meant her and not his date.
“Where’s Amelia?”
“She went back to the hotel—headache. I tried to go back with her, but she insisted I have fun.”
“So how long have you two been... together?”
“We’re not together,” he said. “We’re just here together. We got to talking at work and I mentioned I had a wedding to go to in Nashville. She did too, and we realized that she knew the groom and I knew the bride, so she suggested we go together. I didn’t see why not.”
There was that look again—as if he had something to say but didn’t.
His explanation did ease her mind. But it isn’t your place to worry about what he does anyway.
As if her thoughts were posted on her forehead, he said, “We have separate rooms and everything.”
“You could’ve asked me to come with you,” Emmy said boldly. She’d never done that before, and now that she had, she worried it sounded desperate. She hadn’t meant it to; she just would’ve come with him.
He moved his hand toward her, his palm beckoning her to dance.
Emmy followed his lead and stepped into the crowd of slow-dancers.
“No need to ask you now. We’re both here.”
He pulled her into him, wrapping his arm around her. Under the sparkling lights with Charlie, and the spell of champagne, Emmy couldn’t imagine any other place she wanted to be.