Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
“Are we crazy for attending this?” Sydney asked as they made their way down the sidewalk to the Boston restaurant where Grant and Brynn’s rehearsal dinner was being held.
Reese put her hand on Sydney’s back as they maneuvered around a few tourists. “Tomorrow’s going to be even weirder, so this is probably good to get us primed for dealing with it.”
“I can’t believe Brynn’s going through with it,” Sydney lamented as they reached the door, almost like she was personally disappointed that a twenty-six-year-old that she barely knew was making a poor decision.
Reese resisted telling Sydney that that exact feeling was a big part of what her thirties would involve.
“The good news is that she can always divorce him. It’s not like she’s saddled with his kid or something,” Reese pointed out, Sydney holding the door for her to head inside.
Sydney groaned and followed her in. “Ugh, yeah. I hope that doesn’t happen.”
When they entered the restaurant, Reese stopped and turned to Sydney. “Though they would be Reese Jr. and Sydney Jr.’s cousin. Which would be nice for the kiddos,” she teased, already expecting the look of judgment on her beautiful girlfriend’s face.
She loved the indignant huff that Sydney let out. “You know that I am all about a feminine junior. And that I’m ecstatic that you’re seriously considering kids at some point in the future.”
“Then what’s the problem?” Reese pushed. She loved riling Sydney up.
Sydney lowered her voice as a couple passed by them, very possibly heading to the same place they were going. “The problem is that I don’t know that the world is ready for Grant Devereux V. He’d probably end up running for president and kicking off the downfall of the world as we know it.”
“You make a compelling argument,” Reese said before kissing Sydney squarely on the lips, loving the little zing it sent through her body.
“Ready to head in there?” Sydney asked, like she was readying herself for battle.
Though Reese had no idea what the vibe of tonight was going to be, she was on high alert, too.
Her mother and father would be in the same room, a divorce looming between them.
Tripp’s likely negative feelings toward Stan for putting a pause on their business deal would be on full display.
And then there was Grant, on the literal eve of his wedding, exactly one week after falling at Sydney’s feet and begging for her to take him back.
She blanched. That one still made her a little sick to her stomach.
There was a private room in the back for the party, but Reese pulled Sydney aside, into an alcove that held the coat check during colder months.
Reese interlaced their hands and stepped back from Sydney, eyeing her from head to toe. “You look so beautiful. Have I told you that yet?”
The fact that she had Sydney on her arm as her date, as her girlfriend —for real—was what truly mattered .
Everything else was just background noise that they’d filter through as needed.
Sydney was dressed in a black, form-fitting dress that had little shapes cut out around the sides. Her long, lean muscles were on display, already making Reese a little crazy whenever she caught sight of them.
“You’ve only told me about a dozen times so far.” Sydney counted off on her fingers. “When you saw me try it on at home. While I was getting ready. On the drive. When you had it hiked up around my waist before we left.”
Heat rolled through Reese, remembering how only a few hours ago, she’d pinned Sydney against the bedroom wall and fucked her right there, needing to watch her come in a dress that her girlfriend had no business looking that good in.
They’d come back from the US Open on Monday, and since then, Reese’s desire had been almost uncontrollable.
In the office at the inn. In the car when they’d been taking a drive. In the shower. In the pool again. Against the wall. She couldn’t get enough.
Sydney had unlocked something inside of her, and it took all the resolve she had not to pull her into the empty coatroom and pick things up again.
“And what about you?” Sydney asked, taking her own leisurely journey up Reese’s body until their eyes met. Heat bloomed on Reese’s cheeks with the intensity of Sydney’s stare.
Reese had opted for high-waisted pants and a fitted dress shirt that hugged her frame, much like the first event they’d attended together this summer.
It felt right, as things came full circle.
Tomorrow, the wedding would be over, and she could officially cut Grant out of her life. Her father, too.
Hand in hand, they walked back to the private room, large enough to hold well over a hundred guests.
“I didn’t even think about having to sit with the wedding party,” Reese said, leaning toward Sydney. She loved the visible shiver that worked through Sydney’s body, her lips brushing softly against the shell of her ear.
“Let’s get a drink before sitting down.” Sydney led her over to the bar, a faint tinge on her cheeks.
Once they each had a drink in hand, they scoured the room to find Reese’s mom.
She was over near the center table, likely where they’d all be sitting.
With Reese in the wedding party and as the sister of the groom, she doubted that Grant could find a passable reason they should be exiled to one of the far tables.
But wouldn’t it have been nice.
They meandered around the throngs of people.
It looked like most of the guests were already there, and Reese didn’t recognize the majority of them.
She knew from her mom that the Fitzpatricks had kept their invite side small, opting for close friends and family.
Tripp, however, had probably invited everyone who had ever been in his Rolodex.
When they reached her mom, it was Sydney who spoke first. “Sharon, you look incredible,” she said, letting out a low whistle.
It didn’t bother Reese, mostly, but Sydney clocked the look immediately and flashed her a winsome smile.
“She looks gorgeous. It’s just a statement of fact. And she brought you into this world, so I’d like to give credit where credit is due,” Sydney said, wrapping her arm around Reese and pulling her close. Reese melted into her immediately.
Really, her mom did look incredible. She wore a knee-length red dress; her hair—the same color as Reese’s but a little shorter—was perfectly styled and made her look downright youthful.
Reese leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “You do look beautiful, Mom.”
Her mom leaned conspiratorially close, her eyes playful. “It’s amazing how light dropping a couple hundred pounds of dead weight can make you feel.”
“I’ll cheers to that,” Sydney said, lifting her glass to toast.
“Where’s the happy couple?” Reese asked, and now, it was Sydney who shot her a side-eye as she tried to hold back a grimace .
Her mom and Sydney seemed to be on the same wavelength, a similar stare to the one Sydney had given her crossing her mom’s features. “Reese,” her mom chided, though it did nothing to deter her.
She wasn’t going to put Sydney’s private business on blast, nor would she do anything to stop the train of marital woe from barrelling toward the cliff, but this whole wedding was a farce.
The most adult promise she’d made herself was that she wasn’t going to punch Grant in the face when she saw him.
He was welcome for that wedding gift.
Waiters began to mill around the room. The guests who hadn’t sat down yet were finding their tables, and the time for Reese’s petty banter was over.
“Let’s take our seats,” her mom said, ushering Reese into the spot next to her, Sydney on the other side of Reese.
Stan, Margie, and Brynn appeared at their table, and they sat down next to Sydney in that order.
“Great to see you,” Stan called to Reese and Sydney, his voice booming in the still-chattery room.
Her father would be seated next to her mother, unless he wanted to stop the couple of honor from being seated together.
Honestly, Reese didn’t know how that would go until it happened.
She did find out momentarily, though, as a glowering Grant and an even angrier-looking Tripp sat down in their assigned chairs.
Sydney leaned toward her, and Reese was grateful to have a reprieve from the awkwardness that permeated the table. “You aren’t giving a speech, right?”
Reese quickly stifled her laughter by bringing her napkin to her face and pretending to cough. When she’d gotten herself under control, she turned back toward Sydney, whose hand had found its way to the top of her thigh. “You would have heard about that.”
Waiters walked purposely around the tables in a well-timed pattern, and salads were deposited so quickly it was like they’d materialized in front of each place setting.
After everyone had been served, the salads provided a nice distraction from the tension.
Reese was seated at, by far, the quietest table.
She glanced around the room, confirming her suspicions.
The other guests seemed to be having a great time, so at least the insane amount of money that had gone into hosting the rehearsal dinner was well spent.
About ten minutes into the first course, a woman walked up to the table with a portable microphone and leaned down toward her father. She handed him the microphone, which explained who exactly had paid the insane amount of money in question.
“I’d like to give my speech soon, if that’s okay,” a voice to Tripp’s left piped up. “I’m not the best public speaker, and waiting will only make me more nervous.”
Almost all eyes at their table turned toward Brynn, varying degrees of curiosity on their faces. Grant shot a furtive look at Sydney, which Reese noticed that her girlfriend missed. Sydney, like the others, was staring at Brynn, her mouth open in surprise.
Reese’s father was holding the microphone awkwardly, but he almost seemed relieved that he didn’t have to kick off the speeches.