Chapter 21 - Emma
TWENTY-ONE
Emma
When Henry first pitched the idea of a “Nerd Ball” wedding, I had pictured a rental hall full of people in Renaissance fair costumes, a dessert table groaning under the weight of dice-shaped petit fours, and a DJ who looked like he still lived in his mom’s basement.
Instead, the reception was a masterclass in what could happen when you paired Star Wars with the most meticulous event planner in the Northeast. Chandeliers twinkled overhead, alternating blue and red lightsabers hung from each one, and instead of “Here Comes the Bride,” Alice had walked down the aisle to a quartet doing the Imperial March on strings.
It had made Henry cry, and probably every girl in the place, too.
Alice’s idea, of course. My new sister-in-law always knew how to put her own stamp on things, even if it meant making her new family’s eyes sting with nostalgia and pride.
Now she hovered near the head table, her satin dress a creamy cloud, hands fluttering as she adjusted her grandmother’s hair for the tenth time in a row.
Daniel and I watched from the far end of the ballroom, drinks in hand, our chairs pushed together so close that his knee bumped mine every time I shifted.
He looked good in his suit. His tie was already loose, and the top button of his shirt had gone missing somewhere between our first dance and now.
“You’re staring,” he said, catching me in the act. “You thinking about dragging me to the floor, or are you trying to figure out if my tie’s salvageable?”
“I’m debating about whether I should drag you out of here and have my way with you,” I said, followed by a wink. “Also, I’m giving it about five more minutes before Henry does something to top the cake cutting.”
Daniel grinned, that off-center smile that always made his eyes go half-moon.
“He’s up to something.” His hand landed on my knee, big and warm, the sort of comforting that made me want to burrow in and never get up.
“So, can I convince you to dance? Or are you planning to critique everyone from the sidelines?”
“I’m just waiting for the right song,” I said, which was half a lie. “And maybe for you to gallantly ask me.”
He squeezed my knee once, then stood and extended a hand. “May I have this dance, my lady?”
I took his hand, letting him draw me up, and we wove between tables to the dance floor.
Couples circled, twirling through a song I didn’t recognize, but Daniel caught the beat with a confidence that made me suspect he’d practiced at home.
He spun me once, then twice, and I nearly tripped over my own heel, which only made him laugh harder.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” I said, letting him draw me close.
“I have many secret talents,” he said. “Some I’ll even demonstrate in public.”
Our rhythm was off, but in the best possible way. I kept stepping on his toes and he kept pretending to die from the pain, which made me laugh, which made him do it again. At one point he dipped me so low that I saw the ceiling upside down, and for a second the entire world was spinning.
“So,” he said, when he’d righted me. “This wedding’s pretty good, huh?”
“Best I’ve ever been to,” I said, and I meant it. “And not just because I get to go home with the hottest guy here.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that? Have you seen Alice’s cousin? He’s wearing a Captain Picard uniform. The confidence, the bald cap. It’s a power move.”
“True,” I conceded. “But can he growl?”
Daniel leaned in until his lips brushed my ear. “You want me to try, right here in front of your brother?”
“Maybe save it for after dessert,” I whispered, feeling my heart race.
He looked at me for a long moment, something gentle in his eyes. “What do you think our wedding would look like?” he said. “If we did one. A real one.”
I blinked, caught off guard. “You mean, hypothetically?”
“Well,” he said, “unless you’re planning to run off with Captain Picard.”
I searched his face for any sign of a joke, but he just looked expectant. I turned the question over in my mind, rolling it around like a marble, and realized I liked the weight of it.
“I think we’d have to go low-key,” I said, finally. “Nothing too big. Maybe just family and a handful of friends. No lightsabers, unless you insist.”
He grinned. “I only insist on the Wookiee band. But I’m flexible.”
I laughed, then sobered. “You’d really want that? With me?”
His smile softened. “Em, I’d marry you tomorrow. Or five years from now. Or never, if that’s what you want. But I want you, and that’s not changing.”
A warmth curled behind my ribs, spreading through my chest. I stepped a little closer, our feet tangling, and this time it wasn’t by accident.
“I think I’d like that,” I said. “A lot.”
He looked surprised, which made me snort. “What, you thought I’d shoot you down?”
“Kind of? You’re a flight risk. I’m just trying to pin down your migration pattern.”
I snorted. “You’re a dork.”
He spun me again, and this time I didn’t trip. “You love it.”
“I do,” I admitted.
The song ended, but the DJ spun a new track that started slow and built into a pulse. That was my clue. I wasn’t up for the fast songs. Nobody wanted to watch me flailing around the dance floor.
My brother made his way over, his Storm Trooper helmet under one arm and a plate of pie in the other.
“You two look disgustingly cute,” he said. “Do I need to hose you down, or are you good?”
“Go eat your pie,” I said, but I smiled at him anyway. “And keep your helmet on. The wedding photographer has a quota to meet.”
Henry made a face, then turned to Daniel. “Dude, you want to do shots later?”
Daniel grinned. “Only if they’re blue.”
“Done,” said Henry, and disappeared back into the melee, pie already half gone.
“He’s happy,” Daniel said, watching him go.
“He is,” I said, surprised to realize it was true. “I think he finally found his planet.”
“You’re not so bad at this, you know,” Daniel said. “The whole family thing.”
Maybe it was the wine, or the dress, or the fact that for once in my life, I didn’t feel like I was holding the world together with dental floss and stubbornness.
I felt… great. Ready for whatever life brought my way, including being engaged to Daniel.
I’d never really thought that far ahead before, but it was all I could think about now.
As we circled the floor, the crowd thickened. At the edge, Alice’s grandmother sat in an ornate wooden chair, hands folded on her lap, her eyes bright as bird glass. She caught my eye and beckoned, and I excused myself from Daniel and made my way over.
“You look beautiful,” I said, meaning it.
She patted the seat next to hers. “You’re no slouch either,” she said. “Did you do your own hair?”
“Beth helped,” I said, sitting. “I’m helpless with bobby pins.”
She nodded. “Good woman, that Beth. Brave, too. Like you.” She turned her gaze to the dance floor. “Your brother’s a lucky man.”
“Yes, he is,” I said, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.
She studied me, those blue eyes sharp enough to cut glass. “Do you love him?” she said, and for a second I thought she meant my brother.
“Daniel?” I said, and she nodded.
“Yes. I do.”
She smiled. “Good. He deserves it. You both do.”
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I just sat, letting the music and the warmth of the room soak in. After a few minutes, she leaned over, conspiratorial.
“Will you fetch me a dance partner?” she whispered. “I have my eye on Daniel. He’s a good lead.”
I laughed and told her to wait there. On my way to retrieve Daniel, I stopped to snag two flutes of champagne from a passing server. He met me at the edge of the dance floor.
“Your presence has been requested,” I said.
He grinned and let me lead him over. Alice’s grandmother stood as we approached, her posture as erect as a general’s. She put out her hands, and Daniel took them with the reverence of a man handling a priceless artifact.
The two of them started to dance, and every person on the floor took a step back to watch.
Daniel spun her with the kind of gentle strength you only saw in old movies, and the grandmother laughed, a rich, wild sound that turned every head in the room.
Even Alice, who had been deep in conversation with the officiant, stopped to watch.
Tears pricked her eyes, and she dabbed at them with the back of her hand.
After a while, Henry found me again. He offered his arm. “Want to show these people how it’s done?”
I curtsied and let him lead me out. We waltzed for a while, our movements not so much elegant as stubbornly enthusiastic, and I thought about all the weddings we’d been to as kids, the ones where our parents would dance and dance until the only people left on the floor were them.
When the song ended, Henry pulled me into a hug. “You saved my life,” he said, and I thought he meant it in the big, cosmic sense. “And you saved Alice’s, too.”
“Someone had to,” I said.
“Yeah,” he said, looking around the room. “But it’s weird. I think you saved yourself, too. You’re happy, Em. Really happy.”
I was. I could feel it, under the layers of memories and the old scars that liked to flare up in bad weather. I squeezed his hand.
“You’re not so bad at this either,” I said.
He grinned. “I had a good teacher.”
Eventually the night started to wind down.
The open bar ran out of craft beer, and someone’s toddler had a meltdown near the gift table, which signaled the start of the exodus.
Henry and Alice left first, heading out in a car plastered with “Just Married” decals and, inexplicably, a dozen rubber ducks.
Beth and Wade found us near the doors. Beth had her shoes in one hand and a slice of carrot cake in the other.
“Would you guys be mad if I asked for a ride home?” she said. “Wade’s car is at the office, and I don’t want to ask the three rideshare cars in town to pick us up when they’re already so busy.”
“I’m the designated driver,” Daniel said. “I even had them stamp my hand at the bar.”
Beth cackled. “Responsible, and hot. Emma, how did you score this one?”
“Hypnosis,” I said. “And bear claws.”
“Gross,” said Beth, but she looked happy.
We herded ourselves into Daniel’s car. Beth and Wade took the back, squished together like teenagers on a field trip. Wade sang along to the radio, and Beth told a story about a client who’d tried to pay for a psychic reading with bitcoin and old pizza coupons.
As we neared the turn for their office, Beth leaned forward, suddenly urgent. “Wait, can we stop at the shop? I left the files for a case there, and I’ll never remember if I don’t get them now.”
Daniel nodded, and we pulled up outside the small brick building that housed Beth’s business. I’d seen it a thousand times, but tonight something was different. The windows glowed with a strange, pulsing light, and shadows slid across the frosted glass.
Daniel and I shared a look, then got out. Beth stumbled behind us, barefoot and still holding her cake. Wade followed, unsteady but alert.
“What is that?” Beth whispered, her voice suddenly sober.
I peered in through the window. The light inside shimmered and moved, like water running across polished stone. It wasn’t any kind of electricity I recognized, and I’d seen more than my fair share of haunted offices.
Daniel stepped in front of me, protective in that way I mostly found endearing.
“Stay behind me,” he said, and I rolled my eyes, but did as told.
We opened the door and the light spilled out, warm and inviting, but with an edge that made the hairs on my arms rise.
I thought about all the things I’d seen in Mystic Hollow: ghosts and wraiths and things that didn’t have names.
And then I thought about Daniel, and Beth, and my brother off somewhere with his bride.
We stepped inside, ready for whatever waited.