We’d arrived about an hour ago and were close to wrapping up. The ceremony wasn’t long and neither was the procession. Neither Sam nor Beck were excessive people and they’d pared it down in their own special brand of perfunctory. The wedding party consisted of the same people that had been at the resort all week. There were no parents (all had since passed) or grandparents, no flower girl or ring bearer. Just Beck and Sam’s closest and dearest friends. And Jules.
Sam started the wedding at the head of the room, looking magnificent in his pressed tux, his dark hair slicked back, blue eyes shining with happiness.
As the music played, I walked down arm-in-arm with the Best Man, Mason. After us came Keegan and Jules, followed by Sarah and Henry. Bringing up the rear was Kylie in her element, with a man, Henry and Mac, on each arm. After the procession, the officiant said a few words and then Beck and Sam recited their vows. The rings were exchanged and then the kiss.
As Sam leaned toward Beck to kiss her, I glanced past them, my eyes landing on Mac. He’d been quiet all evening, but had played his part without complaining. As he watched Sam and Beck kiss, he looked genuinely unhappy. Not disgusted or angry. Just sad. Then his eyes flicked up to meet mine. I glanced away immediately, embarrassed he’d caught me looking.
After the practice ceremony, we loaded back up into the limos and headed back to the resort for the rehearsal dinner.
I found myself in the limo containing Keegan, Jules, Henry, Twain, and Mac. As I ducked into the doors, I immediately made eye contact with him again but broke it just as quickly. There was no place else to sit than right next to him. I did so gingerly, trying not to look like I cared at all.
“That was pretty damn easy,” said Keegan as we pulled away from the beach, following the limo containing the rest of the party. “Tomorrow should be a breeze.”
“That is, if nobody has anymore surprises for us,” Jules sniffed looking pointedly at Mac.
Mac muttered something that apparently only Twain could hear. Twain snorted a laugh and looked away out the window.
“What did you just say?” Jules asked.
Mac raised an eyebrow. “Did I say something?”
Jules glowered at him and he looked back with a bored expression.
“You looked beautiful out there,” Keegan said to Jules to distract her from fighting with Mac. Her lip curled into a smile at the compliment and she leaned over to give him an exaggerated kiss. Keegan looked embarrassed when she pulled away, but the expression quickly fled his face when he saw Twain.
“What?” he asked. Twain’s mouth was twisted in a smile that seemed to be barely holding back laughter.
The smile slipped easily away replaced with the picture of innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You look like something’s funny.”
“Funny? Never heard of the concept.”
Keegan glowered at him, but looked like he was going to move past it, putting his arm firmly around Jules.
Then Mac opened his big, fat, Irish mouth.
“It’s you, Keegan. That’s what’s funny,” Mac said. Despite his words, there wasn’t a sliver of humor in his voice. “If that’s even you in there.”
Keegan’s jaw set. “Watch it, Mac. Just because you’re a Knight doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass.”
Mac snorted. “And just because the season’s starting doesn’t mean I won’t break yours.”
“I don’t know what issue the two of you have, but—”
“Yer girl is a bitch and she’s turning you into one too.”
Dead silence in the car.
Mac looked around at our stunned faces and shrugged. “He asked.”
Jules and Keegan started at the same time.
“You son of a—”
“I’m gonna—”
But before they could even finish their sentences, the previously quietest person in the car roared over all of them.
“WOULD YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP?” Henry’s boardroom voice bellowed in the confined space of the limo, silencing everyone.
“Listen, fuckers. I hate you all too. I want to go home too. But remember we are here for fucking Sam and fucking Beck and every one of us will smile and be fucking happy for the rest of the weekend. There’s been enough bullshit and I’m tired of it. Now just pretend to get along for the next forty-eight hours and you never have to see each other ever again.”
Everyone shut up. But in the silence, Mac’s mutter was all the more pronounced. “At least not until Sam’s next wedding.”
I glared daggers at him and this time he met my eyes with molten rage. I knew everyone else had heard it but Henry’s rare intrusion into, as he put it, the bullshit had quelled any further fighting. Mac and Keegan glared at each other all the way back to the resort (Jules glared too, but Mac didn’t even look at her).
The rest of the ride was silent and tense and I sighed in relief when we pulled up the drive to the main entrance.
Just before we parked, Twain, whose look of childish delight hadn’t strayed from his face through the entire fight, leaned toward Henry and said, “Mason would have been proud of that speech.”
“Shut up,” Henry said, but the words came with a slight laugh.
Unfortunately, Mac and I were the last two people to get out of the limo and so we walked almost side-by-side toward the resort.
I couldn’t help myself; God knows I tried. “Please don’t even mutter that bullshit around Beck,” I said without looking at him.
“What bullshit?” he asked.
I scoffed. “You know exactly what I mean.” I glanced at him when he was silent. His handsome face was bored. He raised an eyebrow. “About Sam having another wedding.”
Mac snorted and ran a hand through that thick, dark hair. “Like you don’t know it’s coming,” he said.
This guy… “What are you talking about?” I demanded. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like it’s completely obvious to everyone that isn’t an idiot. Look around you, Mac. You’re the only one existing in this delusion that Beck and Sam aren’t meant for one another.”
He stopped walking. “Well maybe yer all just idiots then.”
I gasped and whirled to face him. “You did not just call me an idiot.”
He bit his lip like he regretted his words but then powered on despite it. “I don’t think you are. But you’re acting like one. Come on, Alice. You’re smarter than this,” he said, waving at the resort. “The stupid traditions, the guests you invite for no good reason other than because ‘you have to’, the words you say that are completely meaningless.”
“And why do you get to decide they’re meaningless?” I demanded.
“Because even if you mean them then, you won’t mean them forever.” His voice rose. “Someone always leaves!”
“No they don’t,” I insisted. “That’s only something you’re telling yourse—”
“You did,” he said, cutting me off. “You left me. This morning. So don’t tell me it doesn’t happen.”
I stopped, confusion taking the place of anger. Then I realized what he meant and shook my head. “You’re so childish, Mac. Is this why you’ve been so annoyed all day? Sorry I took it from you.”