Chapter 16
Autumn
Tucker’s brother Shane is as good looking in real life as he is on screen—brown hair slightly too long and shot through with streaks of varying golds, perfectly symmetrical features—the whole movie-star package.
And yet, surreptitiously glancing from one brother to the other, I decide there’s something rough around the edges, something uncivilized about Tucker that’s way more appealing.
Not that he’s dressed uncivilizedly. He’s wearing a crisp, gorgeously tailored gray suit.
It’s just that in some way I can’t pin down, he’s a lion among housecats.
“I’m sorry to run away, folks. I have to give the people what they want!” Shane says, as someone standing nearby signals for the tray of crab cakes. He melts backward toward the guests.
“Pretty nice that he’s not too famous to help his sister out,” I say.
Tucker shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “That guy will never miss an opportunity to mingle with his adoring public.”
But there’s fondness on his face.
“Anyone want a drink?” Summer asks. “I’m going to get myself a glass of wine.”
“I’ll take one,” I say. “Thank you!”
“No, thanks,” Tucker says.
As she and Jane slip away, the rest of my family approaches in a clump—Grandma Lola on Dad’s arm, Haru trailing behind with Nessa at his side. “Autumn, you look lovely,” my dad says. But there’s a tightness to his expression. My heart skips; please tell me it isn’t anything to do with the wedding.
“What?” I ask.
“There’s another post,” he says grimly. “From your stalker.”
My brother jerks his head toward my dad, blanching. “Stalker?” he repeats.
“There’s a fake influencer parodying your sister. How to Be Miserable.”
“Wait—” says Haru. “What?”
“Whoever this is, they’re parodying Autumn’s brand,” Nessa explains.
“I don’t think it’s only that, though,” my father says. “I feel there’s a darkness in the character of this ‘influencer’”—big air quotes—“that could spawn violence.”
“Deary!” Grandma Lola says.
“Oh, Jesus,” my brother says, looking stricken. “Autumn—”
“We’ve got the situation under control,” my dad says. “Nothing to worry about. But please don’t breathe a word to Summer. She doesn’t know, and we don’t want to ruin her wedding week by—”
He stops abruptly, and we all turn to look where he’s looking. Summer is approaching, two wineglasses in hand, Jane right behind her.
“Autumn, can I talk to you for a second?” my brother asks.
“Of c—”
But just then, Summer shoves a wineglass into one of my hands and grabs the other so tightly it hurts.
“Oh, no,” she says. “It’s welcome-speech time.” She gestures. Hanna’s standing by the single mic that’s set up in one corner, beckoning to both Jane and Summer.
“Come with us!” Summer says, grabbing my arm and tugging. “Don’t make me do this by myself!”
“What am I, chopped liver?” Jane teases.
“You know what I mean!” Summer says. “Don’t make us do this by ourselves!”
Reluctant, I follow the brides across the room, feeling Tucker at my back. He clearly is determined to stick close to me, and as much as I don’t think my father’s worries are warranted, there’s something nice about not having to worry that they might be.
When we get to the podium, Summer grabs the mic from the stand and thrusts it into Jane’s hand. “You do it,” she says.
Jane smiles, amused. “You said you were going to do it.”
“You knew I was full of shit!” my sister says.
“I did.” Jane’s fond smile grows. “Welcome, everyone!” she says, addressing the audience.
Her voice is calm and confident, the voice of a woman used to giving presentations in her corporate job.
“We’re so delighted to have so many of you join us early for the pre-wedding activities.
I couldn’t be happier to be celebrating my impending nuptials to this gorgeous, smart, funny woman, and I couldn’t be happier to have you all here to do it with me!
We wanted to also introduce you to our wedding party—”
She asks everyone in the wedding party to stand in turn so we can meet them.
A few are people Summer’s known forever, like her high school friend, Dottie—plump and curly haired—and her college bestie, Lynnette—a tiny Black woman with the best shoe collection I’ve ever witnessed.
But several of them are Jane’s friends, or Jane and Summer’s newer friends, and I try to remember who they are because starting tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to be on an overnight camping trip with them, one of the special events for the wedding party.
I’m Summer’s maid of honor, and there’s big applause when Jane calls me her “sister-to-be.”
Then she introduces my dad and Nessa and Jane’s parents, Shelton and Parker.
A high-pitched noise forces its way through the applause for the parents—the sound of metal on glass as people begin to the join the age-old, God-forsaken tradition of clinking to get the brides to kiss.
Summer takes the mic from Jane and says, “This is my least favorite tradition, y’all. If Jane and I have to kiss, then everyone else has to kiss, too! All the couples in the room! Those are the rules! For the rest of this week, if you clink, you’re going to be surrounded by kissing!”
The crowd laughs. For a moment, the clinking subsides. Then it comes back, redoubled, as my sister and Jane lean into a sweet, brief kiss.
When they break apart, Summer says, “Okay! Everyone else’s turn! Autumn! Tucker! Get us started!”
For a second, I don’t register what she means. Because, of course, some part of me doesn’t think of Tucker and me as a couple.
Because we’re not.
But almost everyone else in the room thinks we are. Especially my sister and Jane, who are waiting patiently.
Uh-oh.
I sneak a peek at Tucker. I can’t read his expression. Frustration? Exasperation?
I don’t want him to have to do this. He might not even be attracted to women. He might have a partner. This isn’t fair. It’s all wrong, and it’s all my fault—I should never have dragged him into this.
But before I can give it any further thought, he takes a step toward me, settles a big hand behind my head, fingers slipping into my hair, and drops a kiss onto my mouth.
It’s so brief I barely have time to register it—and yet I am full of impressions.
The heat of his mouth, the dark, delicious taste of him, that hand in my hair, bossy and sure.
The warmth of his body pressing close to me.
The rough sound that rips from his chest and the answering whimper I can’t suppress.
When he steps away, I realize that I’ve latched my fingers into the fabric of his shirt; they peel away unwillingly.
His gaze when he looks down at me is just as unreadable as it was a moment ago.
I have no idea if I imagined the sound he made or the slight parting of his lips against mine that brief second when he palmed me closer and I was sure he was going to lick me open.
I have to look away, because I want to see the heat in my body reflected in his eyes, and instead there’s nothing, blankness. Which makes perfect sense; I am nothing to him, a blank.
So I turn toward Jane and Summer and gather them both into my arms and press kisses to their foreheads, and the audience goes wild with applause. Other couples are kissing now, and the moment moves on.
As Tucker and I step away from the dais, back toward a safe corner of the room, my vision picks out Shane staring at his brother, mouth wide open.