Chapter 15 Liv
LIV
Imay have had a bit too much wine.
I never drink more than two glasses—I hate feeling out of control. But I've been feeling out of control since we arrived yesterday, so I figured I might as well lean into it.
It's so strange to sit at a big gathering and not be in charge that I don't quite know what to do with myself.
At the weddings I orchestrate, I'm constantly moving, checking details, coordinating vendors, solving problems. Here, I'm just..
. sitting. Eating. Socializing without an agenda.
It's like I've forgotten how to naturally interact when it's not about work.
And then there was Emma's comment. God, I could kill her for that slip, but she's a little tipsy too and she meant well, I suppose. Still, my stomach clenched when she started going down that path. The last thing I need is for Sailor to start asking questions I don't feel like answering.
I have to admit, I'm impressed with her. I couldn't have found a better person to play Sailor if I'd held auditions with professional actors. She's been charming without being over the top, attentive without being clingy. Perhaps she’s just being herself.
The more I drank, the more I appreciated her little touches throughout the evening.
The way she squeezed my hand under the table.
The kiss she placed on my cheek when Uncle Pete was telling that embarrassing story about my high school boyfriend who was much shorter than me and had to stand on a log to kiss me.
The casual way she rested her hand on the small of my back when we were standing together.
Each gesture felt natural, protective even.
People have left their assigned seats now and gathered in smaller groups around the table and near the barbecues that have died down to glowing embers.
This is so far from the rehearsal dinners I organize, where everyone needs to leave the venue at a respectable time, ensuring the guests are rested for the big day.
My mother has stopped offering people wine and beer though, likely worried about exactly that, and I have no idea where she hid the stash that was in the bathtub.
"Liv?" Emma appears beside me, settling into the empty chair with a bottle of wine tucked under her arm like contraband. "Peace offering," she says, holding up the bottle with a sheepish grin. "I know all Mom's hiding spots."
She pours wine into our glasses, glancing around to make sure our mother isn't watching. "I wanted to apologize again for earlier. I wasn't thinking."
"It's fine, Em. Really. Actually, I should apologize to you."
"For what?"
"For not organizing your wedding." The words come out in a rush, loosened by alcohol and guilt. "I'm sorry. It's just that I can't get away from New York for long enough, and organizing a wedding takes time, and I'd need to be here at least three weeks before and—"
It's a lie. I would do anything for Emma. Just not that.
"Don’t worry about it," Emma interrupts, waving off my excuses with a laugh. "I understand. Anyway, I only asked you because Mom thought I should. I just wanted something simple like this, nothing like the ridiculous productions you pull off."
I shake my head and raise a brow at her. "I'll have you know, people pay me a lot of money for those productions."
"Yeah, but can you imagine what tonight would have looked like if you'd organized it?
" Emma gestures around us with her wine glass.
"No offense, but I don't need a champagne fountain, a string quartet playing classical music, and assigned seating charts color-coded by relationship to the bride and groom.
Oh, and little cards at each place setting explaining the provenance of the flowers and the wine pairings for each course. " She giggles.
"Don't forget the emergency backup plans for seventeen different weather scenarios," I chip in.
We dissolve into laughter, and for a moment, it feels like we're fourteen again.
"Seriously though," Emma says, her voice softening, "this is perfect for me.
I wouldn't change a thing." She drains her wine glass and stands up slightly unsteadily.
"Speaking of which, I'd better go to bed if I want to function tomorrow.
I'm sleeping here in my old bedroom, so I'll see you at breakfast."
She leans down to kiss my cheek. "Love you, Liv. And I'm really happy for you and Sailor. She's good for you."
As she walks away, weaving between the remaining guests to say goodnight to David, I'm left alone with my thoughts and my wine glass.
Sailor is talking to my father and Uncle Pete under the trees, all three of them with beers in hand. She hasn't drunk much tonight.
I take another sip as I study her from across the dimly lit space.
She's unbuttoned the top three buttons of her pink shirt and rolled up her sleeves to her forearms. That charismatic smile that seems to come so naturally, the way she gestures with her hands when she's telling a story, that lean body underneath her clothes.
I remember the way she looked earlier in just that towel.
I curse myself when I realize what's happening here. I so desperately want to have sex with her.
The thought cuts through the alcohol-induced haze. I drain the rest of the wine and immediately want another glass. This is dangerous territory, but then again, would it be so bad if she were up for it too?
In a way, it would be perfect. She's just someone I hired. It's safe. No expectations, no complications. Just one night of letting go with someone who already knows this is all temporary.
I hear my name, then watch her laugh at something Uncle Pete says, her head thrown back, completely relaxed. Dad likes her. Mom likes her. Emma likes her.
When was the last time I felt this physically attracted to someone?
I get up and start walking toward them, my heels sinking into the soft grass with each step. I kick them off and continue barefoot. As I approach, the conversation pauses, and all three of them turn toward me.
"Were my ears burning?" I ask with a grin. "Talking about me, were you?"
Sailor's mouth curves into a smile. "Only good things," she says, sliding her arm around my waist and pulling me against her side. "They were asking if you've reorganized my kitchen cupboards yet."
"That's a perfectly normal thing to do," I protest, leaning into her warmth. The wine has made me bold, and I tilt my face up toward her and press my lips to hers in a quick kiss. It’s meant to be playful, but heat shoots through my entire body, and I’m caught off guard. Fuck.
When we break apart, she swats my ass with a chuckle and rests her hand there.
"You found yourself a good one, Liv," Uncle Pete says, raising his beer bottle.
"I know," I say, but as the words leave my mouth, the world tilts slightly. Or maybe I'm tilting. I bring a hand to my forehead as everything starts to spin around me. "Whoa."
Sailor's arm tightens around my waist, steadying me. "How about we go grab some water and head to bed?" she suggests. "It's going to be a long day tomorrow."
I nod, grateful for her solid presence as she guides me away from the group. "I think I drank too much," I mumble, letting her support most of my weight as we make our way toward the house.