Chapter 16 - The Rehearsal.
Avoid my parents at all costs, avoid Logan’s parents at all costs, avoid the creepy wedding planner, Vincent, at all costs. Not much to hope for at a family wedding, is it?
Yet I hit the jackpot when I bumped into them all in the same small space of the Seven Sapphires Hotel lobby. Fuck.
“Mother.” I greet her with a salute as I attempt to maneuver around them all.
“Colton,” my father scolds.
“Yes, Jeffory,” I say through gritted teeth. My jaw locks and I glare into his hazelnut-colored eyes. The bastard doesn’t even flinch at me calling him by his first name. I’ve never been able to stay in the same room as him for more than a few minutes without blowing my top. He’s never acted like my dad, so I don’t see why he deserves for me to address him that way. If there is anyone on this planet who can rile me up, and fast, it’s him. Every time.
He smirks, then shakes his head, waving a hand in front of his face. “Nothing, boy, move along.” My hands clench into tight fists.
“As you wish.” I dramatically bow, then walk away. Thing is, to my mother and anyone else seeing this, I look like a petty and an immature boy, but bowing at him in front of Logan’s dad and Vincent has embarrassed him and annoyed him to the core, and that feels like winning to me.
I march toward the bar, ordering a whiskey before heading down to the wedding venue area, which is taking place on the beach between two cliffs. It’s exactly what Logan and Hals wanted—quaint and scenic.
Knowing my job for this evening is to check everyone in for the meal, I grab the guest list. Not all the guests have arrived for the big day, as most are turning up tomorrow. Tonight’s rehearsal is for those of us in the wedding.
Ten for the bride, and fifteen for the groom, me included. Twenty-four people to check in.
Can’t mess that up, can I?
Rolling up my sleeves just one more notch, Maxi-Pad joins my side.
“I can’t fucking wait for this to be over.” She groans, and I smirk.
“Yeah, you and me both,” I say, looking over my shoulder at my parents striking up a conversation with Maggie and Harold. Leave them alone.
“I swear, one minute she’s happy, the next she’s bawling her eyes out. I don’t know whether I’ve said something wrong. I want to slap her, but knowing me, I’ll hit her too hard and end up killing her or, worse, ruining the photos for the big day.” Max has her eyes closed, taking deep breaths.
“She’s the bride, Max. She’s allowed to be a bridezilla once in her life. Let her have this moment, be a good friend.” My tone is light and sarcastic, and Max laughs. I tilt her chin. “Look at my face, I’ve got a black eye. Soooo, if you do crack, at least me and Hals will be matching for the first time ever, or if you end up killing her in the process, blame it on me. For fuck’s sake, I could do with the break in prison.” I wink and pull her in for a hug.
She snuggles into my chest, and I let her have a few minutes to decompress so Hallie doesn’t see her crying.
“Come on, Mad Max, let’s get this show on the road.”
******
The rehearsal dragged on for an hour longer than it should have because Vincent demanded the bridesmaids walk the aisle at least one hundred times. “Too fast, too slow, the bride’s uncle is asleep, you’re that bad at doing this,” he’d bark. I snapped at one point, telling him maybe they would get it right if they had music to walk to, and he told me to shut my “beautiful” mouth.
Thankfully, Logan stepped in before I could punch him in his mouth.
“Vince, we have the walk nailed, let’s move this along, please,” Logan said before shouting, “Pidge, pretend the pianist is playing and get walking.” Then she cackled her way down the aisle and the rest of the rehearsal went without a glitch.
“At your wedding, make sure Vincent is not your planner and make sure you put the music on. Where the hell was Margo, anyway?” Max said, and I laughed.
I side hug her as we walk back up toward the hotel for the meal. “After this, I’m doing a
Tom Hanks and crash landing a plane onto a deserted island, adopting a soccer ball named Wilson, and never returning, period.” I stop in my tracks when the thought crosses my mind and ask, “Whose Margo?”
“The pianist, dippy, she was meant to be here for the rehearsal.” Ahhh, she had the right idea not showing up, that’s for sure.
“Maybe she didn’t get the message,” I say, shrugging.
“Nope, she did. I told her earlier when I went to check on her. Look, there she is.” She points toward her, and my mouth goes slack. “She’s in the blue dress talking to Hallie.” I zone in on the woman who’s plagued my thoughts day and night since the moment I met her in that library.
What. The. Actual. Fuck? No fucking way.