Chapter Thirty- Eight
Graham
The reception is so much better than the rehearsal dinner.
For one, I have a fucking speech prepared this time, and for two, Naomi is smiling like she just won a lottery she didn’t know she was playing.
There’s a champagne glass filled with sparkling water in her hand as I raise my glass, following Rowan’s annoyingly awesome speech.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter to him as I stand.
Clearing my throat I put on my most charming smile. “Hello, everyone- I’m Graham Rosales, Elias’ best friend. The title only counts if you don’t share blood, cabrón,” I snark to Rowan. He just crosses his arms with a smug grin because he is a fucking asshole. “Anyway…”
I look down at Elias and Poppy who is so radiant in her reception outfit- she’d traded the lace dress for a white, sparkling, strapless romper- her hair spilling down her back in loose waves.
Elias has also lost the jacket, his tie has been discarded, and his arm is thrown over the back of her chair.
The facade is finally done, both of them sinking into their usual comfort of just existing near each other in the company of friends and family.
“I’ll make this fast because I know Poppy is itching to get on the dance floor.
” I grin at her and she smiles brightly to the eruption of chuckles.
Elias leans over, kissing her cheek. “I’ve known Elias for a long fucking time.
I mean, two damn decades of some of the worst relationships you can possibly imagine.
Models and money chasers and straight up bitches—”
“You better be going somewhere with this, cabrón,” Elias interjects with a half-hearted glare.
“Hey,” I point to Rowan. “No one interrupted his whole thing about how you rescued him after his knee got blown out!”
“I was at war—”
“Semantics,” I wave him off. Clara pats his shoulder comfortingly when he throws his hands in the air. “Anyway, Elias usually had shit taste, right Tío Benny?!”
Elias’ dad raises a glass, “Mierda!”
“Papá!”
“What?!”
Despite the topic currently being women Elias used to date, Poppy is laughing her ass off. Even Cristian can’t help chuckling knowing full well the kind of cunt his mother still is.
“Stop interrupting me,” I say into the microphone.
“Back to what I was trying to say. I have known Elias a very long time, which includes watching him make exceptionally poor choice BUT—” I point a finger in his direction to shut him up.
“Poppy is without a doubt the best, most beautiful, most intelligent woman he has ever managed to coerce.”
“Coerce?!”
“He is very convincing—” She chimes just as Elias kisses her quiet and growls, “Don’t encourage him,” to her girlish giggles.
“Case in point,” I gesture to them again.
“She fearlessly tests the limits of his patience, has made him laugh more in half a decade than I have seen in his entire life, and- for those of you who don’t know- is the inspiration for his new chart-topping album.
The first he has put out in- how long has it been Rowan? ”
“Seven years.”
“Seven years!”
I go around the backs of their chairs to kneel directly next to Poppy who smiles at me in that sisterly way she always has, turning my heart to Jello.
“This woman, is the most profound and genuine person I have ever met- no offense baby!”
I lean around Poppy to blow Naomi a kiss. She rolls her eyes but still smiles anyway. Returning my attention to the bride I stand, raising my glass a little higher.
“I couldn’t imagine a more perfect person for Elias Santos to spend the rest of his life with than you Penelope Santos. I love you both and wish you all the happiness in the fucking world- innuendo fully intended. To Poppy and Elias!”
“Poppy and Elias!” The guests chant as everyone takes another sip of champagne.
Poppy stands and I wrap my arms around her to kiss her cheek. “Love you, amapola.”
“Love you too, Graham.” She kisses my cheek, wiping a tear from her eye when she takes her seat again.
“My exes?” Elias growls in my ear when he hugs me. “Really?”
“I had a point!”
He pats my back a little took hard before retaking his seat for the bridesmaid speeches and I pass the microphone to Theresa and Ivelisse who give a speech in tandem- one in Spanish, the other English for our non-fluent guests.
It’s sweet, touching, not as funny as mine was but Rowan reminds me that’s, “not fucking point, cabrón.” So, I shut up and listen, holding Naomi’s hand under the table.
Her palm is sweaty, fingers twitching just slightly. Not in the way they used to when she needed to fuel her addiction, just in that nervous way she’s picked up in the last year. I raise her hand to my lips, giving her knuckles a kiss as Clara takes the microphone next.
“You’re going to do great, mi reina,” I whisper.
She shrugs, nonchalant, feigning a confidence she used to exude like it was her entire aura. “I know.” But I see how hard her throat works to swallow. “It used to be easier…”
I nod, kissing her fingers again. “I know.”
And I do. I remember how much fucking easier it was to get in front of people and talk like I knew everything in the fucking word.
Cocaine made me braver than I ever deserved to be.
I was a fucking rockstar for those brief hours, but the come down was always a harsh reminder of just how much of a no one I really was. At least to myself.
“But, hey,” I lean in a little closer, lowering my voice even further so I’m in no danger of stepping on Clara’s moment. “At least now you know it’s genuine,” I squeeze her hand. “And so do they.”
Naomi takes a deep breath and nods, but I keep hold of her hand through the rest of Clara’s teary-eyed speech, not even releasing it to clap. Clara and Poppy share a long hug, wiping tears from each other’s cheeks.
And then it’s Naomi’s turn.
Clara passes the microphone down and I take it, holding it for her while she pulls up her speech in her phone. “You go this,” I tell her again, handing over the microphone as she stands, the chiffon of her periwinkle dress falling lovingly over her curves.
She plasters on that smile that’s been crafted to navigate her way through law school and internships with politicians as she raises the microphone to her lips.
“Hello,” she says first. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Naomi, Nelly’s other best friend.
Yes, we know there are a lot of us. It’s a constant battle for her attention,” she throws glares empty of heat at both Clara and Cristian, then finally Elias.
“Especially since she went and found herself a man who wants her attention every second of the day.”
Elias holds up his hands in the universal of gesture of can you blame me, indicating the woman at his side.
Naomi snorts. “And I thought Cristian was annoying.”
“Hey!”
She ignores the soccer player’s protest. “As Clara has already told you, we’ve known Nelly since we were teenagers.
Just itty bitty eleven-year-olds who thought ourselves much too big for our plaid skirts.
We thought some pretty eyes and fancy clothes could conquer the entire world.
God, am I glad we got over that phase,” she says with a flip of her curls over her shoulder.
The guests laugh and my own smile widens, then softens as Naomi’s voice takes a slightly more serious note.
“Nelly has always been the grounding force in our group. I know, that’s insane if you know anything about her.
This woman is the definition of wild child.
” More laughter fills the room. “But when it comes to the people she loves, no one is more accepting or supportive or self-sacrificing than Penelope.”
There are tears in her eyes when she looks across four heads to her best friend.
“I love you so much, Nelly Belly.” And now there are more tears in Poppy’s eyes.
“You are the best person I have ever met, and I am so fucking happy for you.” She sniffs back tears as Poppy stands, coming down the table again to pull her into her arms.
They hug for a ridiculously long time, both of them crying as Naomi murmurs apologies for all the things she’s hidden from her best friend over the years.
But Poppy just holds her tighter, until finally Naomi raises the mic back to her lips over her friend’s shoulder and warns, “Elias if you ever hurt this bitch I’ll cut your balls off and wear them like a fucking Olympic medal. ”
The laugh that leaves me is loud, echoed by everyone else in the room including Elias himself, though his eyes do look genuinely alarmed by the threat.
Not that he would ever in his life harm his wife, but Naomi doesn’t exactly judge slights the way other people do.
Hurting Poppy in her eyes could be something as simple as not putting cinnamon on her lattes. His fear is admittedly warranted.
Naomi kisses Nelly’s cheeks, handing the microphone back over to the lead singer who announces the cutting of the cake while she retakes her seat next to me.
My girl releases the heaviest breath, as if she’s been holding it the entire time she’s been speaking and I take her face in my hands, kissing her immediately.
“Phenomenal,” I tell her. “Increíble!”
“That was so fucking scary,” she breathes, wiping carefully beneath her eyes.
I take over her effort, swiping any signs of running makeup from her cheeks. “But you fucking did it and now it’s over and your best friend has a memory that will last a lifetime.”
“Yeah…”
Camera’s flash as Elias and Poppy cut their wedding cake- none of that smearing cake across each other’s faces bullshit- and then slices are passed around to those who want dessert.
The dance floor is opened up to the guests once more, first dances already done when the bridal party was introduced, but Naomi and I don’t join right away.
For a moment we just sit, my arm around her shoulders in a public setting the way I’ve imagined for years. I finish my champagne, she sips at her water, and for just one blissful moment this feels like the way it will always be.
???