Will:Not your horoscope again
Shannon:Do not mock me.
Will:Not mocking. Just baffled that a woman with a law degree relies on mystical prophecies for daily guidance.
Will:What’s the weirdness?
Shannon:I don’t know exactly. There’s something going on and I can’t quite figure it out.
Shannon:Erin is flying in tomorrow.
Will:That’s unusual?
Shannon:It’s always last minute with her, too, like she’s the queen of fucking England
Shannon:She hasn’t spent Christmas with us since she was in high school. She was supposed to visit for Thanksgiving but something happened with her flight.
Will:Progress?
Will:Don’t forget– even the Berlin Wall came down eventually
Shannon:You don’t know my sister. She’s stalwart
Will:Yeah. Wonder where she gets that.
Shannon:If you asked me to go to Mexico, I might say yes this time
Will:Too soon.
Shannon:…?
Will:It’s too soon to joke about that.
Shannon:Ohhhh. Ok then.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
SHANNON
Something was unusualat the firehouse.
“Sam’s wearing a tuxedo,” I murmured. “A red tuxedo. Where did he get a red tuxedo?”
“Yeah, that’s not making it easier for me to like that guy,” Will said.
Miles of twinkling lights were strung across the old fire engine bay, a band was performing on a raised platform, and servers were circulating with champagne. It seemed over the top for our standard Christmas Eve gathering, and there were far more people than I expected.
Sam and Riley were huddled together on the landing between the first and second floors. Riley appeared to be adjusting Sam’s bowtie, and repeatedly patting his lapels as if to reassure him. Perhaps more interestingly, Riley was wearing a kilt.
“Why is Riley wearing akilt?” I murmured. “And that’s…that’s, what is her name?” I was staring hard at the petite woman with spiky dark hair. “She used to live with Tiel. Ally or Emma or something. She’s supposed to be touring with her band. What’s she doing here?”
I searched the space, not sure what I was hoping to find, and ended up watching Sam and Riley again. Riley’s hand dipped into his jacket pocket, and he handed something to Sam, and then it clicked.
“He’s wearing a red tux because he’s getting married tonight.”
Will glanced at me, frowning. “What about this scene says wedding to you? We’ve got a hipster band, there’s a table of little cheeseburgers and corndogs over there, and red tuxedos and kilts. How is that—oh, no, I see it now.”
“That little shit,” I said, stabbing my sequined top with my finger. “I’m wearing white, and this is a wedding, and that fucker didn’t even tell me. He planned an entire goddamn wedding and didn’t tell me!”
