Chapter 22 #2
It was Stan then, who broke the silence. “I think that’s a wonderful idea, Brynn. I’ll start you off?” he asked, already standing up from his chair.
With the microphone secured in his beefy hands, making it almost look like a toy, he did the obligatory tap tap tap , and asked, “Is this thing on?”
“For what I paid, it better fucking be on,” Reese heard her father mutter from where he was seated before downing the rest of his drink.
Sydney had caught it, too, and they shared a look, Reese wondering if she needed to brace for an impending storm.
The crowd quieted as a hundred pairs of eyes turned their attention to the hulking man who had love in his heart and a tiny microphone in his hands.
“I’m Stan Fitzpatrick, the father of the bride. I’m going to wait to give any sort of speech, given that I’m likely to end up in tears and it’ll really ruin the mood.” There was a smattering of laughter, and Stan smiled good-naturedly.
Truly, Reese couldn’t have liked this man more if she tried.
“I’d like to introduce my daughter, Brynn, who is the light of my and her mother’s lives. Please give her your attention.”
Brynn stood, more purposefully than Reese would have expected, accepting the microphone from Stan and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
“Hi, everyone.” Brynn waved, which the crowd returned with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
“I don’t know if I can sit through this,” Reese said as she considered fully what was about to happen.
Sydney squeezed her leg as she quietly said, “It’ll be okay,” her voice only slightly managing to quell Reese’s rising nerves.
The music had been turned off, and the room was silent except for the clanking of silverware on plates. A light shone directly on Brynn, who had moved over to stand next to a large wall.
Slowly, a projector screen descended from the ceiling.
When it stopped, an image appeared in surprisingly high resolution.
It was a photo of Grant and Brynn, arms wrapped around one another and smiling broadly at the camera.
Another photo flashed by, of Grant and Brynn aboard a sailboat, Grant at the helm with Brynn helping Stan to raise the sail.
This was a nightmare. Brynn was going to make a fool of herself, waxing poetic about love and honor and supporting one another, all while Reese knew her brother’s true colors.
Her only consolation was that there were few people in the room privy to the information that she knew, and she hoped it stayed that way for Brynn’s sake.
Could Reese die, though, of secondhand embarrassment?
Her skin was hot and itchy, and she wondered briefly if she was having some kind of allergic reaction.
She looked down, expecting to see her skin mottled with hives, but she was presented with nothing more than a faint redness that looked far better than it felt.
The photos continued to play on a slow carousel when Brynn finally spoke. “Some of you may not know this, but earlier this year, I graduated with my PhD in modern analytic philosophy.”
Stan was already out of his chair, clapping wildly. “Yeah, you did,” he yelled toward her. “We’re so proud of you, honey!”
That earned another laugh from the crowd, which Stan tried to calm by shushing them as he returned to his seat.
“Thanks, Dad.” Brynn smiled broadly before continuing. “So what most people may not know about my area of study is that it’s deeply focused on logic, which I can honestly say went completely out the window when Grant swept me off my feet.”
Brynn flashed another affable smile, which earned her a few coos from the crowd.
Oh no. Was Reese going to vomit? She felt the bile rising in her throat, wondering if she should stand up and object to the wedding.
“You don’t put an objection out during the rehearsal dinner,” Sydney said in a low, fast rush of words that made Reese realize that she’d said, “I object,” out loud, under her breath.
“I’d say there’s never a good time to cause a scene, but better now than at the wedding itself,” Reese responded through gritted teeth.
Reese moved to stand up, but Sydney held tight to her thigh. “Whatever happens, this is Brynn’s life to live.”
Still agitated but no longer struggling against Sydney’s undeniably strong hand—she was really putting all those years of tennis to good use in this moment—Reese remained seated. Begrudgingly.
“But this summer,” Brynn continued, “as my wedding loomed on the horizon and I planned for the happiest day of my life, I realized that I missed studying. Missed the research that goes into understanding something.”
She took a step forward, closer to Grant, who was still about ten feet away. “So I decided to understand my future husband so that we could both have the best life possible.”
Reese looked over at Sydney, who had a bit of a deer-in-the-headlights look in her eyes, and she wondered if Sydney was starting to come around to her way of thinking.
Painful didn’t even begin to describe the feeling Reese experienced as Brynn looked at Grant with a moony gaze, and Grant gave her a tight-lipped smile in return, clearly not a part of the planning of his fiancée’s speech.
“The basics.” Brynn clicked something invisible to the guests, and a new photo slotted onto the screen.
It was a photo of Grant on the golf course, hand covering his eyes post-swing as he watched his ball.
“Are pretty simple. Grant. Age twenty-nine. Hobbies include golfing, sailing, and watching his beloved Red Sox.”
That earned a loud cheer, as if that was a surprising revelation in the Boston area.
“But I wanted to know more.”
Another picture flashed across the screen, this time a text message thread. “The great thing about Grant is that he’s always predictable, especially in using the same password for everything, including his Tinder profile.”
A deafening silence fell over the crowd before nervous murmurs broke out at various tables.
And Reese. Was. Riveted.
Sydney’s hand was gripping into her thigh like it was a claw, but Reese couldn’t feel the pain over the exhilaration of whatever was coming next.
“Grant would tell you—at least he tells the women he chats with and meets up with for casual sex—that he’s a good guy.” Brynn rolled her eyes exaggeratedly then, like a little kid doing a bit for attention .
Well, she had everyone’s attention now.
Reese hadn’t breathed in about the last minute, and when air rushed into her lungs unexpectedly, her eyes started to water. Sydney looked at her with concern, but Reese waved her away. The only way she was leaving right now was in a body bag.
“According to his profile, which mentions all the things I’ve already shared, he also goes on to say in his messages that he works a demanding job at the family company, which his father is running into the ground through a variety of poor decisions.
And that if he were in charge, which he will be one day, they’d be the industry leader. ”
Reese looked over at her father, who’d gone from a deep red to a dangerous shade of fuschia that made Reese wonder if medical intervention was required.
“This approach appeals to women differently, but it includes a 40-percent success rate at earning him sympathy, as they think he’s trying to help his family legacy endure.”
Stan’s large hands, which had so gently cradled the microphone only minutes ago, were now balled into dangerous fists that looked like they could smash rocks.
And Grant was… well, it was hard to describe what he looked like except that he looked like he was about to shit his pants. He pulled at his tie like it was choking him.
Brynn looked like she was having the time of her life, having pulled out a handheld laser pointer from somewhere, flashing the parts of the screen where she wanted guests to focus.
On the next slide, various bar charts broke down Grant’s success with women on the app.
“I wanted to keep it simple, so I only used a sample size from this year, though he’s had a profile since the age of twenty-two.
Our boy was busy,” Brynn added with an airy laugh before continuing on to say, “Within this year, he’s matched with sixty-five women.
Messaged forty-three of them. Gone on dates with a lucky dozen and, for the big reveal, and what we’ve all been waiting for… ”
Brynn paused for effect, and it worked.
The whole room was absolutely silent until Reese’s dad stood up and bellowed, “You stop this right now. I will not have you embarrassing my family at a party that we paid, for no less.”
Of course. Because those would be Tripp Devereux’s two biggest problems with what was playing out before them.
Not that Grant was an absolute coward of a human being or a serial philanderer, but that Brynn had had the audacity to bring it into the light.
Reese was positively gleeful, and as she chanced a glance at Sydney, she found they wore the same expression, shock mingled with awe at what Brynn was doing.
It was poetic, how Brynn turned toward Tripp and lifted the microphone back to her lips. “I’d like to be clear to all the guests here—and especially to the rest of the Devereux family—that I’m only embarrassing Grant. And you.”
Tripp took a menacing step toward Brynn, and Stan moved far more deftly than she’d expected a man of his size could. He looked her dad dead in the eye. “Sit down, Tripp. You will let her speak, and you will not say another word about it.”
“I’m not staying to listen to this,” her father said with the strength of a newborn baby in the face of Stan’s ire, and Reese thought she heard his voice crack. She didn’t have much time to question it because, within seconds, he’d fled out the door and into another part of the restaurant.