I just stood there with my arms crossed as I watched her for a few moments. I had a habit of living life downhill. I tended to lean into whatever momentum it threw my way and not spend half a thought for where it was taking me. The ride was what I lived for, and I rode it wherever it took me.
So it came as something of a shock when I realized where I was. Really, realized. All those things I’d said to Damon? All the half-formed thoughts I’d let bounce around and guide me to this point? They were real. They weren’t just me fucking around.
I was getting fake married tomorrow to secure a contract with the team I’d just quit on. The team I’d quit on to make it to the wedding that was supposed to save my job.
In other words, there was no more doubting it.
I really wanted Belle. I wanted the ring I put on her finger tomorrow to stay there forever. I wanted all the cutesy, frilly, flowery shit that came along with our vows.
I wanted a wife. And I wanted it to be the borderline midget who was currently crawling under the table to scoop up a bug that had infiltrated the room.
She ran while flinching and making terrified noises as some kind of beetle tried to escape her hands. When she finally flung it out the door, an older woman came in screeching a second later with a giant beetle in her hair. Belle, of course, tried to swat it out of the woman’s hair and ended up missing.
There was a deafening crack as Belle open palm slapped some poor grandmother in the forehead.
I watched it all happen as I felt honey-sweet happiness spread through me. That little disaster was going to be my wife, and at least one of us wasn’t going to be pretending.
35
Belle
When I finally sat down beside Chris for the start of the rehearsal dinner, I felt like I’d run a marathon. The huge table was full of happily chattering guests who were already snacking on appetizers and sipping drinks. I’d mostly put the beetle incident behind me, but when I looked at the poor old woman, I could still see a red outline of my hand on her forehead.
Beside me, Chris had made an attempt at dressing for the occasion. Trying to fit himself into formal, classy attire seemed a little like listening to a violin playing rock music. There was a light flavor of fancy, but at the end of the day, rock was still rock, and Chris would always be Chris.
He’d rolled up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, despite me asking him not to this morning, and the velvety maroon vest he wore over his shirt seemed to hug his muscular frame in an obscenely sexual way. I’d even personally witnessed him combing his wild dirty blond hair this morning, but it had already reverted to its natural state of messiness.
It looked like I’d invited some dangerously charming sex pirate to my wedding rehearsal.
Chris leaned over to whisper in my ear. “If I knew there was going to be grandma slapping, I would’ve been way more hyped for this thing.”
“It was an accident. And she was very kind about the whole thing.”
“You ready for this?” Chris got up without waiting for a response and tapped his fork against the side of his glass. “I believe it’s customary for these things to include a roast.”
“Toast,” I hissed up at him. “Toast.”
“Nope,” he said quietly to me. “I spent several seconds on a search engine to figure out what a wedding rehearsal was and clearly saw something about a roast.” He winked down at me. “Don’t worry, I got this.”
Too late. I was worried.
Chris started strolling around by his chair, looking more than comfortable—he looked practically delighted to be exactly where he was at exactly this moment. Of course he did. He was causing chaos and making my life hell. If there was one thing I’d learned about the man, it was that his happy place was somewhere between my legs and making me a nervous wreck.
“My roast is going to start with my dear brother, Damon. Damon,” he said, gesturing benevolently toward his brother, who I imagined was already fuming. “You’re the gray sprinkle on the rainbow cupcake that is our lives. You’re the reason we all have a middle finger, and about as much fun as an unsalted pretzel. Oh, and Chelsea, if he’s holding you hostage, just blink two times for us. Yep. See? While we’re on the topic of my brother’s lovely wife…”
I sat and endured Chris’ “roast” while I wished I could curl inside my own body like a human turtle. It was a slight relief that everybody was laughing along with Chris, who probably could’ve charmed his way out of jail.
But my relief ended a few minutes later when Chris concluded his little roasting spree and nodded to me. “Now, please put your hands together for my wifey, Belle.”
“Fiancée,” I corrected under my breath. I stood up, then remembered to tap my knife against my glass a few times. My mouth felt dry, especially when I took in the endless pairs of eyes watching and waiting for me to follow up Chris’ little impromptu comedy act. “So, um. I prepared a toast. My lovely fiancé doesn’t have the best listening skills. You could say he’s… Um.” I trailed off. I’d been hoping some hilarious blast of wit would come to me, but all I felt was dry wind and tumbleweeds floating around in my head.
“Right. So my toast. Thanks so much for everyone who came.” I had about six paragraphs more of my toast that I’d practiced in the mirror, written, re-written, taken notes on, and spent hours thinking about. Instead of finishing it, I practically fell back into my seat. “Thank you.”
Chris tilted his head at me, smiling strangely.
A pregnant pause followed from the room, then a scattering of unenthusiastic applause rose and fell as quickly as a belch.
Luna, Chelsea’s daughter, had been thoroughly enjoying Chris’ roast and was watching me with rapt attention when I stood. She looked adorable in her big, poufy dress, and I could tell she was still waiting for something from me. All the awkwardness in the world hadn’t done it, but her cute, eager little eyes motivated me to stand back up.
“Actually,” I said, clearing my throat. I reached down, picked up my glass, and tinged my knife against the side a few times, quieting down the low murmur that had resumed. “I did have one thing to say about Chris. It’s just that I can’t forget the first time we met… No matter how hard I try.”
There was a delayed wave of laughter, a few grins, and an uncontrollable burst of laughter from Luna—who slapped her little knees and shot me two thumbs up of approval while she mimicked wiping a tear from her eye.
Chris had folded his arms and was giving me a look of appraisal. I thought there might even be a touch of pride in his eyes.
“And…” I said, plunging forward. I had a huge smile on my face now, feeling like I’d surprised myself with the wit of my little joke, and trusting that more would come if I just kept talking. “Chris has a way of looking at the world through… Rose colored glasses.” I paused, half smiling as I waited for everyone to burst out laughing at my blinding wit. Luna looked around, realized she was supposed to laugh, and then roared with more laughter, which only made things more awkward as it was the only sound.
I put both my palms in the air and bowed my head. “Thank you for your time.”