“So, how’s it feel?” William asked him, stepping closer.
“Honestly?” Brent’s mouth twitched at the corners. “Pretty darn good.”
William followed Brent’s gaze, perusing the lively party. “Some people say being married takes getting used to. But it doesn’t.” He shook his head and sipped his champagne. “Not really.”
Brent chuckled. “Things sure seem to have worked out for you and Sofia.”
“Yeah.” William’s eyes instantly went dreamy. Brent wondered if that’s how he looked, too, when he gazed at Jackie. Like a totally hopeless, lovesick puppy dog.
“So tell me about Bermuda,” Derrick said, striding over to join his brothers. “Are you taking the shorts?”
“Sure, Derrick. Yeah, the Bermuda ones. They’re down to my knees,” Brent joked.
“Maybe the only shorts he’ll be wearing are those boxers you gave him.”
“William,” Brent muttered in mock offense. “I’m scandalized.”
“He is a married man.” Derrick motioned with his champagne flute. “He knows whereof he speaks.”
“Oh yeah?” Brent said, razzing his little brother. “When’s your turn?”
Derrick’s gaze happened to be on Meredith as she went prancing by, arm-in-arm with Sally, laughing and whispering something to her as they shot glances at Hope standing by the tent. “I’m sorry,” he murmured absentmindedly. “What did you say?”
Brent and William raised their eyebrows at each other, and both guys started cackling.
“Oh no,” Derrick said, obviously getting their drift. “No, no, and no.”
“She’s very pretty,” William said in a reasonable fashion.
“Not seeing anyone, either.” Brent grinned at Derrick. “From what I hear.”
Derrick tried to blow them off by taking another sip of his drink. “And she calls herself a matchmaker,” he said, pretending that he was disgusted with the idea.
William nudged him. “Maybe she just hasn’t found the right match.”
…
Hope felt like she’d scarcely seen Brent at all during the past hour, but Sofia told her not to worry. That was very typical during wedding receptions. The bride and groom were the stars of the day, and all the guests wanted to visit with them. There’d be plenty of time for privacy between them tonight, she’d said with wiggling eyebrows. Privacy was the one thing Hope didn’t want to contemplate enjoying with Brent right now. If things were different, she thought, watching him sadly as he crossed the lawn. But they’re not.
Eleanor came to speak with Hope, telling her that it was lunchtime, and Hope was glad for the opportunity to sit for a while and slip out of her heels. Even if they did make her legs look dynamite, these shoes were killing her.
Once everyone was seated with their food, the waitstaff circulated, refreshing drinks and serving ice water. After a short interlude while people got settled, the toasting began. Derrick stood first, extracting a folded piece of paper from his tuxedo jacket pocket, but Ava preempted him by shooting to her feet.
“Oh, Derrick,” she shouted, waving her napkin. “One quick interruption if you don’t mind.”
Hope’s pulse pounded. Ava wouldn’t. She couldn’t.
Then her mom pulled a small boom box out from under the table, and Hope realized with horror that she was going to.
Oooh, here she goes…
“Uh. Mom.” Hope stood weakly, bracing herself against the table with her arms.
“You don’t have to thank me, sweetheart,” she said, glowing cheerfully. “Let this be my gift to you.” She nodded at Brent, who stared at her, gobsmacked. “To you and Brent.”
All eyes watched expectantly as Ava turned on her music player, and a full orchestra broke into a swell, hitting dramatic peaks and valleys with each new chord. Ava touched her thumbs to her shoulders and shut her eyes in some apparent form of meditation. An instant later, she flung her arms wide as if figuratively embracing the room.
Como una promesa, eres tú, eres tú
Como una mañana de verano
Meredith stood in shock as Ava belted out the lyrics in Spanish, sending Hope a questioning look, and Hope knew Meredith had her back. All she had to do was give a sign and Meredith would do whatever it took to remove Ava from the floor.
“Wait,” Brent said in mild shock. “Is your mom actually singing ‘Eres Tú’?”
“She’s not bad,” Grandpa Chad mumbled, and Hope sank back into her chair, stunned. Ava’s vocal skills had improved some since cousin’s Debbie’s wedding. Then she hit a crescendo, and Hope grimaced, deciding that they hadn’t improved all that much. She leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, massaging her forehead as the song went endlessly on and on. At least now she’d have an excuse for the fake headache she was going to tell Brent about later.
And now, the refrain. Oh, ouch. Hope peered through her fingers, relieved to find all the champagne flutes still standing. Thank goodness her mom hadn’t shattered any glass.
Brent soothingly rubbed her back between her stiff shoulder blades. “It’s really all right,” he said in a whisper. “It’s coming to an end soon.”
And it would have, too. If Gavin Tate hadn’t hollered out during the applause that ensued, demanding an encore.
…
Later that afternoon, the area under the tent with the twinkling lights was converted to a dance floor. Brent’s gaze washed over Hope as he held her in his arms and they had their first dance. “This is a great song. I’m glad we picked it.”
Hope caught her breath, swept up in the fantasy of being his bride. “Yeah. Me, too.”
They took another turn around the dance floor, with Brent leading her expertly in his arms. “You’re a very beautiful bride,” he told her.
“And you’re a totally hot groom.”
He chuckled at this, evidently pleased. “Maybe you’ll find out how hot later.”
Her cheeks steamed when she found herself wishing that she could.
But that was wrong.
More than wrong.
Twisted.
“I know there’s still the bouquet toss,” he said.
“And the cake. Uh, er…cupcakes.”
“Yes, and those.” His eyes twinkled. “But, between now and then, maybe we can slip away?”
“Oh, Brent. I don’t think…”