He holds out his hand to Seth as he says that last part, and they shake.
“Seth,” Seth says.
“Yup,” confirms Wyatt. “Well, I’m sure your presence here is fine and not at all weird for Delilah.”
“Wyatt,” I say.
“Seems like she definitely knew you’d be here,” he goes on, Seth’s hand still clasped in his.
“Are you here for a reason?” I ask him.
“Oh, just checking in on my honorary little sister,” he says to me, then faces Seth. “That’s her, by the way.”
“I’m three years older than you,” I point out.
“She’s my favorite cousin,” he tells Seth.
“I’m sure the feeling is mutual,” Seth says.
“Right now I’m really leaning toward his sister, actually,” I say. “Wyatt. Can I help you?”
Clearly, Wyatt’s also had a few drinks. Not that I can blame him.
“Yeah,” he says, and finally lets Seth’s hand go.
For his part, Seth looks more entertained than anything.
“We’re putting cans and shit on the getaway car if you want to come help,” he says, jerking one thumb over his shoulder. “Georgia brought a fuckton of streamers. I think her goal is to get them pulled over before they hit the county line.”
I swivel and look at the rest of the table.
It’s empty. Oops. I was so absorbed in telling Seth about weird tattoos I’ve given people that I didn’t notice we were alone.
“Right, yes,” I say, rising.
To my credit, I only wobble slightly. See? The wine fairy would never overdo it. All hail the wine fairy.
“I should go do my bridesmaidly duty,” I tell Seth. “How will everyone on the road know they got married if I don’t?”
“Have fun,” he says, grinning.
“Behave yourself,” I say.
Then I point two finger guns at him. Finger guns. I blame the wine.
“Must I?” he asks, and fingerguns back at me.
It feels like a splinter of something works its way between my ribs, because there’s always a reminder. Always.
“Guess not!” I say, fifty percent too brightly, and then I turn and my dress swirls and I don’t look back as I take Wyatt’s arm and we walk away.
He ducks under the greenery again, then looks down at me.
“You know you don’t always have to say what everyone’s thinking, right?” I ask.
“I don’t have to, I choose to,” he says. “Someone oughta.”
“You could leave me out of it.”
Wyatt’s quiet for a moment as we wind between a few more tables, then emerge into the open space before the door.
“Everything is good, right?” he finally asks.
Fuck, I don’t know. Good seems like far too banal of a word for whatever’s going on right now, but it’s not exactly bad either, right?
“Delilah?”
We stop. I sigh.
“I’m going to murder Vera dead,” I tell him, matter-of-factly. “But I can wait until tomorrow so I don’t ruin Ava’s big day.”
Wyatt just raises one eyebrow, and I wave my hand dramatically.
“All shall be revealed in time,” I say, because I don’t have the emotional reserves to rehash it right now.
“Well, it’s very grown up to kill her later,” he says, and we start walking again.
“I strive for maturity in all scenarios,” I tell him.
Wyatt just snorts as he opens the door for me.
Chapter Fifteen
Seth
Bernadette rolls her eyes, the wine glass in her hand sloshing from side to side as she shifts her stance.
“It’s all isopods all the time right now,” she says. “I swear, those blind nightmare shrimp are gonna be the death of me.”
“They are,” the man she’s with says, nodding. “One day last week I swear she woke up screaming, isopods!”
Bernadette just laughs.
“Are there too many, or too few?” I ask.
“Yes. Both,” she says. “See, I can’t even answer that question. Did you know that each cave in the region has a slightly different subspecies? Sometimes they’re two hundred feet apart. Different subspecies. Nightmare.”
“I had no idea,” I say, which is certainly true.
Bernadette is a biologist for the Forest Service, and we used to date.
Okay, we didn’t date. We just fucked. We had a thing that lasted a few months. Purely physical, just two people scratching an itch. It ended about two and a half years ago when she met someone she was serious about — this guy, maybe. Our split, if you can even call it that, was perfectly amicable.
I’ve slept around. It’s not a secret.
But let me say this: I’m not a dick about it. I state my intentions upfront. I don’t lie, cheat, or promise something I’m unwilling to give.
I like the game of it. I like the moment of clarity when I realize that a woman’s interested. I like the rush of seeing someone new naked for the first time. I like the ego boost. I like how easy it to get what you want, as long as you don’t want too much.
Or at least, I liked all that once upon a time.
“…whether it even matters if some subspecies goes extinct,” she’s saying. “I mean, of course it matters because of biodiversity and on some level, every critter is precious, but does it really matter?”
“She gets like this when she’s drunk,” the man jokes. “Starts talking about wiping them all out.”
Bernadette laughs, then shakes her head.
“I would never,” she says, just as a hand slides through my elbow. “But keeping track does get exhausting.”
“There you are,” I say, looking down at Delilah. I say it casually, as if she takes my elbow all the time. As if her hand on the other side of my shirt and jacket isn’t suddenly all I can think about.
“Sorry, Georgia got very specific about the streamers,” she says, smiling and rolling her eyes. “And then poor Olivia managed to spell married wrong, and we had to wash it off and start over, you know how these things go. Hi, I’m Delilah.”
Her hand on my arm tightens as she holds the other out, fingers pointed and bladelike.
“Bernadette,” the other woman answers, smiling. “This is my fiancé, Gary.”
“Bernadette works with Levi for the Forest Service,” I explain while they shake hands. “She was just telling me about all the problems with forest shrimp.”
Technically, I’m not lying. Everything I just said is completely true, but the lie-by-omission still feels bad as it settles in the pit of my stomach.
“Is the first problem that there are shrimp in the forest?” Delilah asks, hand still in my arm, laughing politely.
“Shockingly, no,” Bernadette says, and before I know it Delilah and Bernadette are talking about blind freshwater crustaceans who live in caves and how there are both too many and not enough, why it’s important to have a dozen different subspecies, or why they might not be important at all.
When we say goodbye and head in opposite directions, Delilah keeps her hand on my arm.