Chapter 4 #2
Finally, the justice of the peace tells Nate he can kiss his bride, and the entire room bursts into applause, which shakes me out of my Sierra-induced trance.
Sierra hands Jackson the bouquet she’s been holding for her, and my sister walks down the aisle holding Nate’s hand.
Then Sierra steps forward and I offer her my arm.
“Can’t avoid me forever,” I say quietly as she slips her hand into the curve of my elbow.
“What makes you think I’m avoiding you?” she asks, her lips barely moving through the smile plastered on her face.
I’d forgotten she and Jackson used to do that all the time when we were kids.
They could carry on entire conversations without looking like they were talking at all, which was infuriating for a little kid who just wanted to know if they were talking about him.
I nod to my parents as we pass them, then tip my chin down close to Sierra’s ear. “Well, let’s see. You were all flirty on Thursday night until you realized it was me you were talking to, and you haven’t said a word to me since.”
“Maybe I just don’t have anything to say to you.” Her tone is dismissive, but the way her body is leaning into mine—with her fingertips digging into the crook of my elbow and her breast pressing against my tricep—is anything but.
Oh, this will be fun. “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, sweetheart.”
“I’m not your sweetheart,” she says with a hiss.
My smile is wide and genuine now as I glance down at her, but her face is pinched.
“Ah, does someone have a weakness for guys calling her sweetheart?” I tease.
“Someone has a right hook reserved for guys who call her sweetheart. Keep testing me and I might just use it,” she says, glancing up at me as we walk through the doors.
Immediately she pulls away, telling me, “I’m going to go help Jackson.
” And then she rushes off across the room to where Jackson and Nate stand, throwing her arms around my sister before stepping back and fluffing her veil.
My parents and Nate’s dad approach as they form their receiving line.
Across the room, Nate’s eyes meet mine and he gives me a small shake of his head, sending me a clear message: Don’t go there.
“I just want to see you settled, you know?” Mom says, giving my arm a squeeze as we stand at the edge of the dance floor together.
I managed to get through my best man speech pretty well, but it paled in comparison to Sierra’s maid of honor speech.
Thankfully, I went first. I would not have wanted to follow her very personal anecdotes about Jackson and Nate’s journey together—a story she was part of every step of the way, while it’s more obvious than ever that I’ve always been on the outside of my own family.
I watched as Jackson and my dad shared their father-daughter dance, and Nate pulled my mom onto the dance floor for the second half of it.
Then he delivered her to me, and she’s worn out from just the two minutes of dancing.
But she refuses to sit, saying she’s not an invalid, and instead insisting on questioning my life’s direction.
“I know, Mom. And eventually I will settle down. But wouldn’t I be stupid not to snowboard down every mountain I can, for as long as people are willing to pay me to do it?”
She smiles and pats my cheek. “For as long as it makes you happy, yes. You’re very talented, and as long as you love the nomadic life you’re living, then do it.
But the minute it stops being fulfilling, the minute you want more than all the partying and snowboarding—move away from it.
I know you’re having fun, but I want you to find that thing in life that you can’t live without.
I want you to chase whatever you really love, and right now, I feel like you’ve just been filling the time. ”
The thing I love is photography. Snowboarding lets me travel to places where I can take amazing photos. And you’d think Mom would know that from all the pictures I send her, even if I haven’t said it out loud.
“I am happy, Mom,” I say as I put my arm around her shoulder and kiss her temple.
“If you say so,” she says, putting her hand on my chest. “Oh, Sierra!” Mom says and reaches her arm across me.
There, the flash of sparkling rose gold stops short. Was she trying to get by without me noticing her? With my head turned toward my mom, it would have worked if Mom hadn’t spotted her.
“Mrs. Shanahan,” Sierra says warmly as she reaches out her hand and gives my mom’s arm a loving squeeze.
“Sierra, I thought we discussed this at the spa yesterday. You must call me Cat, or even Catarina, if you don’t like nicknames. I’ve known you far too long for this Mrs. business.”
“Sorry.” Sierra lets out a little laugh. “Old habits die hard.” There is so much affection in her voice and her eyes as she talks to my mom, who was a bonus mom to Sierra when we were younger.
“I meant to tell you yesterday, dear. I’m so sorry about Peter.”
Sierra’s easy smile falters for a moment before it’s back. “Thanks. It’s better this way, though.”
Interesting. I’m not sure who Peter is, but I can guess he’s her ex. I wonder what happened, and if she really means that things are better without him? And then I wonder why I care. As a rule, I don’t get involved in other people’s personal lives.
“So you and Beau are going to be roommates for a bit,” Mom says, then glances at me as she tells Sierra, “I hope you’ll keep this one in line. I hear he can be a bit wild.”
Sierra opens her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “I’m sure Sierra’s plenty busy keeping herself in line. It’s always the good girls you have to worry about.”
“Beau,” Mom says as she slaps my chest, then rolls her eyes in Sierra’s direction as if to say, There’s no controlling this one. She’s not wrong.
Sierra makes her excuses and continues on her way, obviously flustered by my teasing. Interesting.
Mom wraps her free hand around the back of me, so she’s encircling my waist. I feel like I might actually be holding her up at this point, which is the only reason I don’t say anything about her comments to Sierra. Luckily, she doesn’t comment on my contribution to the conversation either.
I take my mom back to her table, where I know others will want to visit with her, then spend most of the reception catching up with people I haven’t seen in years—like Jackson’s friends from high school and the Blackstone ski team.
Shortly before midnight, the upbeat song a huge group of us are dancing to fades and a slow song replaces it.
I see Jackson’s high school friend Ava heading toward me, and spin away to head in the opposite direction.
I’ve already danced with her three times, and heard ad nauseam about how much she misses her husband and newborn.
Girls normally only cry on my shoulder before they climb into my bed.
If I’m not getting some from Ava—which I’m definitely not—I don’t need to hear about her problems.
But as I turn, my foot catches someone else’s and suddenly a body slams into my side on a collision course with the floor.
I catch her by her waist and pull her to her feet.
Her arms come up to my chest as she takes a few deep breaths, leaning against me before looking up to meet my eyes.
Those beautiful brown eyes get even bigger as she takes me in.
“I mean, if you insist on throwing yourself into my arms, I guess we can dance,” I tell her as I unwrap one of my arms from her waist and take her hand. Her mouth is still hanging open as we begin to move.
“You—” she stutters, “you can dance. Like, we’re not just awkwardly swaying back and forth here.”