Chapter 35
Theo
She’s doing it.
She’s fucking doing it.
Emma’s getting married.
My suit’s too tight. And damn this tie. I hate ties. They choke me.
And it’s hot.
Why are we in formal wear for a wedding at the beach ?
Why did I go out of my way to make this happen for her?
Quit being a selfish ass, Theo. This is what she wants .
Not what I want though.
What I want is for Laney to be holding my hand and assuring me all is fine. Instead, I can’t even tell if she’s read my messages because we’re on different kinds of phones and hers doesn’t send me read receipts.
The ocean’s right there. Right there . I could walk out from behind this row of chairs on the beach, head straight to the water, and not stop walking until I’m swimming, and not come back to shore until it’s done.
But I’m here because Laney’s walking down the aisle in a fucking gorgeous pink-purple gown with her hair up fancy and her makeup all done, and I can’t take my eyes off of her.
She slides me a half-hearted smile as she glances down my row when she passes, and yep.
I would sit in Hell itself watching and waiting for just a glimpse of that smile that’s just for me.
Even the half-hearted kind.
Does that mean she read my messages?
Does it mean something happened today?
Does it mean she’s just sending me a subliminal I know this is hard, and I wish I could make it easier for you like everything’s the same as it was after breakfast?
Like no one told her my secret today and I can talk to her as soon as Emma leaves the reception and come clean and hope she takes it better than the Laney of a week ago would’ve?
Her mother makes a noise behind me.
I ignore it and focus on the fact that my front-row family-of-the-bride seat means that Laney’s mere feet from me when she takes her spot to wait for Sabrina to come down the aisle as Emma’s maid of honor.
She mouths something to me.
Looks like I’m horny.
But that can’t be it.
Claire’s already standing next to her, totally blank-faced.
I’m actively ignoring Chandler and his three groomsmen, who are standing on the other side of the arched trellis hung with tropical flowers that Dad and Uncle Owen finished after I left to get the cake.
Sabrina’s next down the aisle.
I should look at her, but I can’t stop looking at Laney, who’s watching Sabrina and stifling a wince.
Why’s she stifling a wince?
Why is Laney stifling a wince?
“I told her all bridesmaids should take a gas suppressant before the wedding,” Gail says behind me. “Do you think she forgot?”
Charles grunts an answer.
Sabrina reaches the front and stops next to Laney.
The music changes, and then Emma’s walking herself down the aisle in a fitted satin-and-lace number with a long train that’ll have sand in it for the rest of its natural life, but it’s what Emma wanted.
It makes her happy.
So that’s what she got.
My dad sniffs with pride next to me.
The crying kind of sniffing with pride.
None of this Oh, I’m so fancy that I sniff my approval stuff. Not for my pops.
“She’s such a lovely bride,” Gail murmurs behind me. “She deserves every happiness.”
On that, we agree.
All three of the Sullivan triplets keep looking behind me, to where Charles is sitting as well.
Uncle Owen twists like he wants to look behind us and see if Charles and the triplets have the same nose too.
This was supposed to be Emma’s fantasy come to life, and instead it’s a small-town shit show of secrets.
I train my eyes on Laney.
I want to have her over to my place at home. I want her to play with the kittens. Watch them grow into cats. Have snowball fights with her in the yard. Set a fire to warm her up.
Take her to bed and warm her up even more.
Taste the pancakes she teased me about over breakfast again today.
And I don’t want to tell her what I need to tell her.
I don’t want to know if she’ll judge me.
If it’ll change how she feels about me.
I can’t just quit and sweep it under the rug like it never happened. She’ll hear eventually.
She’s not looking at me any differently right now, which I’m assuming means she hasn’t heard.
Emma reaches us in the front row, which I only realize because Dad moves next to me. I tear my eyes away from Laney to watch my sister pause at the end of our row.
She pulls my dad into a hug, and as she does, she looks over his shoulder at me.
Fuuuuuck.
I know that look.
She’s stressed.
She’s stressed, and she wants me to crack a joke to relieve all of her tension and fix it.
“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers to our old man, and then she steps up in front of the minister under the trellis, where Chandler’s beaming at her and wiping his eyes.
Fucker hasn’t bolted.
Is that a good sign?
I don’t know.
“Holy shit, you’re hot,” he says to my sister while he looks her up and down. Not loudly. Just loudly enough for the front row to hear it.
His parents chuckle like they’re so proud to have a son who recognizes he has a good thing.
We all sit.
All of us.
Me too, even though I’d rather go punch the guy who just told his bride she looks hot .
“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the minister starts.
The minister that I fucking found .
I did this.
This, too, is my fault.
Laney slides a glance at me, and I realize my knee’s bouncing.
I stop it.
Her lips wobble like she’s trying to send me a good boy , but she’s sad.
Dammit .
She’s sad because I told her I don’t want Emma to marry a fuckaroni and cheese. Shouldn’t have told her.
Shouldn’t have made her deal with carrying that.
“Such a beautiful day to join two souls who have been in love since their youth, who have overcome trials and challenges and hardships to reach this day, today, when they proclaim their love before you, their closest family and friends…” the minister drones.
I got a talker.
Of course I did.
Couldn’t have gotten a minister who’d just rip off the bandage and get it over with fast.
Had to pick the talker. One who doesn’t even know them, but who’s droning like he does.
Laney shifts another look at me.
I make my leg stop bouncing again.
But that’s when it happens.
I feel the tickle.
Not the tickle of my hand waking up.
The tickle of I need to sneeze .
Nope. Nope nope nope. Not sneezing. Not doing it.
Emma hates it when I sneeze.
I sneeze loud.
Can’t help it. I’ve tried. Even went to see a doctor about it once.
Breathe, dumbass. Just breathe .
“Before we proceed, is there anyone who knows of any reason why this man and this woman should not be wed?”
I twist my nose this way and that to try to stop the tickle. Also sit on my fucking hands.
The minister peers at me.
Laney looks at me too.
I duck my head and keep twitching my nose.
Will not sneeze. Will not sneeze. Will not sneeze .
The minister starts talking again.
It’s getting stronger.
The tickle’s getting stronger.
I don’t sneeze a lot. But when I do, I fucking sneeze the shit out of sneezing. And this is not the time or the place to sneeze.
Why the fuck did I get a talker for a minister?
Shit.
Shit.
Gonna sneeze. Can’t hold it back. I’m trying. I’m trying .
Need to stifle it.
Need to?—
“ AAAAAAHHHHHH-CHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO !”
—sneeze.
Uncle Owen startles so hard his chair wobbles and he almost goes down.
Someone behind me shrieks.
“Right now, son?” my dad whispers.
“Sick,” one of the triplets says. The admiration kind of sick .
I look up.
The minister’s watching me again. Chandler’s staring at me with you’re such a dumbass radiating out of him.
Really hope Emma lets me punch him one day.
My sister turns and looks at me, her face a conflicted mess of emotions.
Laney’s eyes are bugging out of her head.
But more—her lips are wobbling.
“Allergies,” I force out. I make a go on gesture.
Emma keeps staring at me.
Laney’s pinching her lips together now, her eyes dancing. Not just with amusement, but with kindness. Only you, Theo . Way to break the tension.
The minister sucks in a deep breath. “Continuing on then. Emma. Chandler. In front of your family and friends and the beauty of this majestic world, I invite you to exchange your vows.”
“Wait,” Emma says.
I suck in a breath and almost levitate out of my chair.
Dad puts a hand on my shoulder and shoves me back down. This one comes with a frown bigger than the really, son? sneeze-frown.
Uncle Owen snickers. “Oooh, this is gonna get good,” he whispers to me.
“Babe, he’s fine,” Chandler says. “Let’s do this.”
She looks over her shoulder at me one more time, and my heart sinks.
It sinks to the floor and keeps going through the sand underneath while she turns back to Chandler.
“This isn’t about Theo sneezing, Chandler,” she says. “It’s about you letting my brother go to jail for you.”
Every cell in my body freezes.
I freeze so hard that I’m actually cold, and I don’t get cold. I can feel my blood leaving my body.
Laney makes a choked noise.
I would, but I can’t move.
This is bad. This is bad .
“Babe, what ?” Chandler says. “That’s bullshit. Who told you that?”
“ Did you ?” my sister repeats.
No.
No .
This isn’t happening. If she doesn’t want to marry him, fantastic .
But don’t let it be because of me.
“What did she say?” Charles murmurs behind me.
“Em, I love you, and I’ve tried really hard not to let that fuckup ruin things for us—” Chandler starts, only to be cut off.
Not by Emma, but by Laney clearing her throat.
Loudly .
“Who you callin’ a fuckup, boy?” Uncle Owen says right on the heels of Laney’s interruption.
I manage to make myself move to shove him back into his seat.
“Did. You. Let. My. Brother. Go. To. Jail. For. You?” Emma repeats.
This time, there’s not a single person in the crowd who didn’t hear her.
Probably not a single person in the crowd whose nuts aren’t shriveling at the you are in so much fucking trouble you will never climb back out of the pit of trouble in your entire life tone that Emma uses about a fraction as often as I sneeze.
Which isn’t often.
Chandler looks past her.
Straight at me.