Chapter 3 #2
I get filled in on everybody’s lives, and I tell them what’s happening with me. I’ve glanced over at Mom a few times. She’s working the room. She’ll make her way over.
My cousins are excited and interested in the whole Broadway experience and I could talk about it for hours.
Mom is over by the fountain, clapping loudly. “Group photo time!”
I find myself swept into the center of the family cluster, wedged between my cousins like old times.
Mom ends up just a few people over. After this, she’ll drift over—it’ll just happen.
The photographer gets us arranged, and for a few seconds it feels genuinely okay.
Real. The way my shoulder presses against Sara’s, the way Granny Ernie squeezes in front insisting she doesn’t need to be in back, Danielle taking center stage.
When we break up into smaller groups, I hang back, giving Mom the opening.
She heads toward the bar with Aunt Mae.
I finish my champagne.
“Kelsey!” Danielle glides over, radiant in her flowing sundress. We compliment each other’s dresses, though I’m putting a lot more heart into admiring hers than she is into admiring mine.
“Hey, I have the perfect job for you. The kids are dying to learn a dance routine for the reception. What do you think?”
I think it’s babysitting duty, but in truth, I’m a little relieved. Things still feel awkward, especially with my own mother not saying hi to me, and it’s been a little exhausting keeping up my positive front.
“What do I think?” I say. “I think little kids are my jam.”
Danielle smiles.
I head across the beautifully manicured yard to the kids tent, where a couple of weary looking babysitters clearly need a break.
“I got this! Go get some food or something!” I tell them.
They grab their phones and head off.
This is a perfect way to make people remember why they used to appreciate me...and hopefully make them appreciate me anew.
In no time, I’ve got a two-year-old on my hip and ten kids lined up two deep, already picking up the simple hip-hop moves I’ve adapted from the studio’s most popular routine.
“Arms strong!” I demonstrate the wave again. “Like you’re painting the sky!”
A little girl in red, who was shy at first, is now front and center, hitting every beat. Some of the boys who were too cool for dance are getting into it on an athletic competitive level.
“That’s it! Now add the attitude!” I give them an attitude demo. They’re all wide eyes and giggles and then they go for it. Adults can sometimes get sick of my energy... It’s a thing with me. Especially guys. I’m “a lot,” apparently. “Extra.”
Lucky for me, kids love it when you’re “a lot.”
And these kids are actually good. They are going to kill it out there.
The babysitters wander back, hanging out in the shade with their phones, randomly shouting encouragement.
Danielle drifts by the far tent pole. Even she looks impressed.
I wander over.
“They’re doing pretty well,” she says.
“Just wait until you see the finale. Janey, show our fabulous bride that spin—”
Just then the music gets drowned out by a whump-whump-whump.
The kids stop dancing. The tent top flutters. The boys run out from under the tent. “Helicopter!”
All of the kids are out of the tent suddenly, followed by the babysitters. It’s a full-on dance routine mutiny as a sleek black helicopter touches down on the far lawn.
Napkins go flying.
One of my cousins grabs her hat, shrieking.
“What the hell?” Danielle says.
The door opens and a man in a tuxedo steps out, hair flashing like burnished brass in the sun. Wide shoulders. Brows like deep golden slashes.
Bruno Blackwood.
Is this a dream? A nightmare? An alternative timeline where the worst possible thing happens?
Bruno Blackwood, reclusive watchmaker. Hater of all he sees, subject of feverish Reddit threads, and recipient of a joke wedding invitation I sent because I thought it would be funny if his people sent a present.
Well, he is carrying a very large gift wrapped in silver and white. He has a designer duffel slung over one shoulder, and he starts out toward us, like arriving to a stranger’s wedding in a helicopter is an everyday thing for him.
He’s bigger than I’d remembered from photos. And somehow more there.
My whole family’s watching. Confused.
Danielle’s future sister-in-law, Cara, comes over and grabs her arm. “Is that one of your people?”
“No way,” Danielle says. “He’s not one of yours? He’s somebody’s. He’s heading this way with a wedding gift.”
Cara frowns. “Is he an actor of some sort?”
Danielle turns a suspicious gaze to me. I can hear the words screaming in her brain: What did you do?
My heart bongos in my ears. Bruno Blackwood has arrived just in time to make me look like a screw-up when my entire mission here is to remind my family that I’m a trustworthy person who belongs here.
How could I have sent those stupid invitations to rando celebs?
And why oh why did he come?
Luckily, everybody is too stunned to go out and greet him. This is my chance.
Or more like, my Hail Mary.
I put my hand over my chest. “He came! I didn’t think he’d make it.”
Danielle frowns. “This is your plus-one? You didn’t RSVP for a plus-one.”