Wedding
“So is this what it usually looks like when you hang out with your friends?” Larkin asks mildly, as Wren shoves the stranger into the wall in front of us.
A woman I don’t know, her black hair up in a small bun, watches, leaning back against a doorframe.
I swore she came here with the stranger, but she doesn’t exactly seem too worried about his imminent demise at the hands of the pissed-off groom.
“Sometimes,” I admit, meeting the woman’s gaze when she looks back at me.
She shrugs. “I’m going to be honest with you; he deserves it.
I don’t even think we were invited to this, but Gabriel—my husband—is excellent at showing up where he isn’t wanted.
” She rolls her eyes at the man being accosted when she glances over to see his shit-eating grin.
“Yeah, babe, provoke him,” she deadpans.
“That’s gonna do wonders for your possible lifespan. ”
He makes a face at her, hands raised in surrender. “You really want me gone badly enough to wrinkle this nice suit? And here I was going to offer you a year of free therapy.”
Wren snorts and steps back, his eyes dark. “You think I want therapy from you, old man?” he sneers. “I don’t need to be any more fucked up than I already am, thanks.”
“Is he always this unpleasant?” Larkin goes on in my ear.
I shake my head. “No. Wren is a delight, actually.” Hearing his name, Wren glances up, seeing me for the first time. His smile is quick—there and then not—before he looks at Gabriel again.
“One wrong move, and I’ll kill you,” he promises him. Then he glances over at the woman who still looks pretty unbothered by the situation. Wren just stares at her until she steps forward with one hand outstretched.
“Sorry,” she sighs. “I sort of figured he was making shit up when he said you secretly invited him.” She rolls her eyes at her husband while he smooths out his suit.
He grimaces and runs his fingers through his brown hair, and she shakes her head.
“I’m Quinn. If you don’t want us here, I’ll drag him home. ”
“You are more than welcome to be here,” Wren assures her. “Even though I have no idea who you are. Wait—” His face screws up in disbelief. “Husband? Did I hear you right a few minutes ago? You married…that?”
“Better be careful what you say, kid,” Gabriel purrs, his dark eyes narrowing just a little. “I might forget it’s your wedding.” At the word kid, I give him a closer look, noting that while he isn’t exactly old, he’s definitely about ten years older than most of my friends.
I file away both of their names, wondering if I can pry some information out of Cass later about them.
“Come on, husband,” the woman, who I’m guessing is way closer to my age than his, grabs onto Gabriel’s arm and tows him further into the barn, where metal folding chairs line a small aisle that leads to a lit-up, flower-covered arch.
I don’t know Hazel at all, but I can’t help but wonder how much of this is her doing. The Wren I knew when I lived here wasn’t much into flowers or pretty aesthetics like this.
Wren greets me after giving Gabriel one last unfriendly look, and he forgoes a handshake to clasp me in a quick, firm hug. “It’s been forever, Tova,” he murmurs. “Missed you around here. Cass worries about you like a mother hen.”
“Miss you too. Look at you…being such an adult, getting married, running a company. God, it’s like you’re the responsible one now.”
Wren makes a face, then turns his attention to Larkin. His scrutiny is harsh, and a lesser man might back down. My boyfriend just beams into his face like he’s the happiest guy in the world. Wren isn’t falling for it, judging by his expression, but he sticks out a hand to shake, anyway.
“Wren,” he introduces. “You’re that boyfriend.” It’s not a question, and I force myself not to bristle. I warned Larkin about my friends and how much they enjoy posturing.
But even if I hadn’t warned him, I doubt Larkin would be phased.
His brilliant smile never fades as he shakes hands with one of my oldest friends.
“Larkin,” he confirms with a nod. “I’m that boyfriend, yeah.
Did she tell you all the awful details about me?
” He wiggles his brows, a little playful, as if matching Wren’s energy.
“No.” Wren grimaces. “That’s way too much information for me. Love you to death, Tova, but not enough to hear about what the two of you get up to. Didn’t Cass talk to you about finding someone to balance you out instead of, uh, finding a Clyde to your Bonnie?”
“Live fast, die young?” I offer with a dry smile. “Some of us want balance in our lives, some of us want to set the west coast on fire in a rain of bodies.”
When they look at me, my boyfriend gives me a surprised, slightly terrified look that goes well with Wren’s raised brows.
I let them stew for a moment before I scoff. “Oh, come on. You both know I don’t have that kind of motivation. If I did, I’d be fighting God for divine supremacy after your reception.” My words are still just as dry as ever.
That has Wren cackling. He throws me a wide grin and touches my shoulder.
“I’ve missed you,” he assures me, before moving on to greet whoever is behind me with a much more artificial smile than the one he’d been wearing with us.
That alone tells me it must be someone from his work, and I twine my fingers loosely with Larkin to pull him along.
My attention is drawn to the lights and the decorations.
Thankfully, the barn is anything but crude and cheap, and well-hidden vents blow AC onto us while being subtle enough not to ruin the rustic vibes.
They chose to have this venue serve as both ceremony and reception spaces, and out of curiosity, I peek through the big, veiled doorframe into the reception space.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Larkin chuckles in my ear, pulling me back.
“Don’t ruin it. You’re being nosy, little monster.
” He kisses my cheek as I sigh, then drags me over to sit down in the fourth row.
It’s not quite the back—which is already occupied by Quinn and a way too comfortable-looking Gabriel—but it isn’t close enough to the front to command attention.
“So…” Larkin leans over to brush his lips against my ear. “Get me in the loop. Tell me who I should care about. Give me the gossip,” he purrs teasingly.
With a soft snort, I give him a flat glance, but I can’t help the curve of my lips into a small grin. “You act like this is a meeting of international super powers.”
“Might as well be. I’m pretty sure if I ever hurt you, they’d all hunt me down.” He pauses, then adds. “Am I wrong?”
He is not. But I only give him a sort of sweet smile that earns me a quick, deadpan look in response.
“Okay, well, tell me about them.” He isn’t nervous.
I’m pretty sure Larkin doesn’t get nervous.
My fingers itch in the way that sometimes means I’m craving violence, but today it’s just because I want to touch him.
So I do. I skim the pads of my fingers over the back of his hand, looking down at the paleness of his skin that matches mine.
I love this man.
Admittedly, it’s probably not a very healthy love. It’s all teeth and sharp edges. Knives and shattered glass. Esme has asked, more than once, if I’m sure we’re made for each other. If only she knew just how made for each other Larkin and I are, I don’t think she’d ask anymore.
But then again, she definitely wouldn’t speak to me anymore. While she can abide what I am—what I was, in her mind—I definitely can’t just waltz in with my boyfriend as an active serial killer.
And who I sometimes help with his ‘projects’ when watching Eli Roth movies isn’t doing it for me anymore and I need to let off some steam.
“I don’t know everyone here,” I admit at last, watching as he flips his hand over to twine his fingers with mine.
“I’ve been gone for a few years, so some of my knowledge is only from Cassian telling me about people on the phone.
Anyway.” I glance around, unsure of where to start.
There are definitely people here I don’t know—though I figure those are the people from Wren’s work or Hazel’s life outside of Wren.
People who don’t know exactly whose wedding they’re attending, and definitely never will.
“Virgil.” I nod towards the heavily tattooed, dark-haired man standing at the altar and speaking with the officiant.
He has his hands clasped in front of him, and he looks bored as hell.
Though his gaze keeps wandering back to a woman standing in the first row, like he can’t keep his attention off her.
Sloane’s well-dressed enough in the sage green of the wedding party that I figure she’s a bridesmaid, though I’m not sure what she’s doing out here talking to people instead of with the rest of the party.
“He and Wren are basically pair-bonded. His girlfriend, Sloane.” I point her out.
“She has dogs. That’s important, because we are so going to ask about her dogs. ”
“What kind of dogs?” Larkin asks, feigning interest in a way that has me giving him the look. I know my boyfriend isn’t the biggest animal lover, but at the very least, he doesn’t freak out around my snake.
“German Shepherds. She has one with her. See?” I point at the legs of the chairs, where a fluffy tail is just visible.
Argus, if I’m remembering right. Though I might not be, since I’ve only met Sloane and her dogs one time.
But I work through describing my other friends and their partners, giving Larkin a few details about each as the ceremony area of the barn settles in anticipation.
There are no more guests trailing in now, and I swear everyone seems to know how close it is to being time.
From the corner of my eye, I can see Virgil and Sloane disappear through a side door.