Ben and Evie’s dance lasts almost five full minutes. Not enough time, not nearly long enough, as they slowly sway and make their way past the extravagant cake. But then the song changes to “Butterfly Kisses,” which means it’s the father of the bride’s turn.
Tears nestle in my lashes as Aiden Kincaid stands from our table and drops his napkin.
In the middle of the dancefloor, Evie waits alone, crying but smiling, as Ben backs away and heads toward his mom, and Aiden makes his way to her.
They join like the perfect puzzle piece; she wraps her arms around her daddy like she’s unable to stand without him, and the whole time they dance, I think about this family that mine hates so much. I think about the love they share, the kindness, the acceptance.
If I were to walk into my wedding with my boobs hanging out like she had – even if it wasn’t my fault – there would be no acceptance. There would be no gentle teasing, and then getting over it. My daddy would call the dressmaker, the dressmaker’s mother, the dressmaker’s governor. He would halt my entire day, not to defend me, but to exact revenge on what he’d call disrespect.
Instead, Ben enjoys his new view, and Aiden dances with his daughter anyway.
“May I?”
I look to Bry when a voice pulls me from my contemplation, but then I glance to the right when my brain catches up.
Bobby Kincaid stands with a hand extended, a grin that looks just like his son’s, and eyes that dig deep into my heart. “I would be honored if you’d dance with me, Maddi.”
“Daddy.” Bry shakes his head. “You’ve already got your own. Leave mine alone.”
Snickering, I set my napkin on the table and take Bobby’s hand. Because this might be the closest to a daddy-daughter dance I’ll ever get. “I’d be honored. Thank you.”
I let him pull me away from the table, and the moment our feet touch the wooden floor rather than carpet, Bobby gently pulls me into his arms and studies me with a smile.
“Is this the part where you warn me not to break his heart, or else?”
He chuckles. “Nah. I think you guys have it under control. This is just me wanting to dance with my son’s special friend, because I feel like you might be around awhile, and I want to make sure you feel welcome in my family.”
“This isn’t how it would go if the roles were reversed.” I step in closer and lay my cheek to his chest. “In my family, my daddy would be too busy gossiping with whoever was the most important person in the room. He wouldn’t even know there should be a daddy-daughter dance. In fact,” I pull back, “since, at this point, the wedding certificates would be signed, he’d be talking business. Because you know he’d only have approved of a wedding for his daughter if it made fiscal sense.”
Deep chocolate eyes study mine. “And while discussing mergers, he’d have missed out on his beautiful daughter, in a beautiful dress, wanting to dance on the day that will become one of the most important in her life.”
Firming my lips, I only nod. Because that’s all I can do without running the risk of crying.
“But at that wedding,” he grins, “I’ll be there. And I’ll dance with you when my son decides to take his mother and grandmother for a spin. I know we’re not quite the merger your father would have hoped for…”
I laugh under my breath and let him spin me out slowly.
“But we come with loads of entertainment value. And cake.” Grinning, he turns us to study the cake as the waitstaff comes out to take it away to serve.
Ben taps his new father-in-law on the shoulder, and extricates his bride from Aiden’s hold, but while they’re busy doing that, they don’t see what I see.
“Hannah?” I scramble out of Bobby’s arms when my friend, the accountant, makes her way toward the cake with a vindictive smile. “Hannah! Don’t you dare.” I zoom across the dancefloor, and though I don’t shout, my movement is still noticed by many.
I have to remind myself that this room is full of fighters. And fighters are fast on their feet.
Evie sprints across the dancefloor with a shouted “Noooo!”, and Bry flies out of his chair with balled fists.
These people don’t even know who Hannah is. I wonder if they’ve ever seen her in their life. But they see me. They see my eyes, my defensive stance, and they hear my scream when Hannah, with a hand on the third tier, fake-trips in her black and white server’s outfit, and shoves the cake forward.
The scene plays out in front of me in slow-motion. I have time to cross the floor, Evie has time to sprint. Bry has time to snag my hand as the columns of the seven-tiered artwork begin to collapse.
Then I do something I’ve never done before.
I ball my fists, and roar my battle cry, like I’m Mel Gibson, and this is my last stand in Braveheart. I’m ready to beat the shit out of my friend for what she’s done, but Bry swings me up into his arms as the tower topples.
Hannah steps back with her ‘oh dear!’ face, and Evie dives in to catch her cake. The seven tiers she’s been so excited about.
Bry swings me around, but not fast enough that icing doesn’t splash against my legs. Evie tries to catch her cake, lightning-fast reflexes, but it merely slides through her hands, fills the cups of her dress, stains the ivory, and smudges against her chin as the music tapers off.
In the confusion, Hannah turns and bolts from the room without being stopped by one single person. And in the silence, tears burn my eyes while Evie bathes in her own wedding cake.
“Oh god,” I cry. “Oh no.”
“Eve?” Ben looks like he might die from worry. Like he’s on the edge of a heart attack.
He takes his wife’s hand and pulls her to her feet. She’s a mess. She’s covered from head to toe, and her boobs stand as a type of shelf to hold extra cake up top.
“I’m gonna… I mean…” He teeters between enraged and terrified. “Talk to me, Eve. What do you need me to do?”
“Um…”
The muted lighting remains, the music is silent. Around us, family and friends stand in shocked horror at the scene laid out in front of them. Cake is splattered from one side of the dancefloor to the other, and in the middle lays the little cake topper that everyone thought was so cute.
“This is my fault,” I admit quietly. Quiet, but still heard. “My friend, my, uh…” I point toward the door. “She did it on purpose to hurt you.”
“But why?” Evie’s brows pull close as she processes my words. “I don’t even know that server.”
“It’s an implied infraction at this point,” I admit on a croak. “They don’t like you because they wanna be you.”
“How is it your fault?”
“I… uh…” I clear my throat, and look down at my ruined dress. “They said they were going to ruin… and I’m here with… my family doesn’t approve of this.”
A soft laugh draws my gaze as Nelly makes her way out of her seat. She pats Bobby’s arm as she passes, then Jon’s – Bry’s uncle. She squeezes Aiden’s hand when he looks like he might explode. Then she stops in front of Evie and slides her finger through some of the icing on her chest.