"Mmhmm," he murmured. He was still studying the crowd. It was like he was hoping he'd catch someone's eye and force them to put the pieces together of his hand and its position on my waist. "What about sucking whiskey off me? Would that warrant a reaction?"
"No guarantees," I said, patting his chest.
"That's disappointing," he said. "Want to try it anyway?"
"I don't drink whiskey," I said. "Bad things happen."
Nick stared at me, his light hazel eyes twinkling with a shiny new challenge. "You've never drunk whiskey with me," he said. "Maybe really good things will happen this time, like us getting drunk and telling your family we're married and they can all fuck off if they have a problem with it."
"Youcould get away with that.Icould not," I said, a laugh thick in my voice.
It wasn't funny, not exactly, but it was amusing to see this through Nick's eyes. He was laboring under the assumption that my siblings noticed everything, always, and that wasn't the whole truth. People—all people, not only my siblings—noticed outliers and anomalies, and not normal behavior. For once in my life, I was situated in the perfectly normal seats.
"You're everyone's favorite guy. You fly right under the radar. You'd have to fuck me up against a wall for anyone to notice. That is, you'd have to fuck me up against a wallagain."
"You're testing my patience, Skip," he said. His fingers moved lower, past the rise of my hip bone to the tender spot below. He pressed there, and I gasped. It was aneyes rolling to the back of your head, weak in the knees, feel it every-freaking-wherekind of tender spot. "If you want a wall, there are several at my apartment."
I smothered a laugh in his suit coat. "We have to make it through the toasts," I said. "Then we can christen your apartment."
"That's fuckin' right," he murmured, pulling his phone from his breast pocket. "We have a few days before you're heading back over the pond, so we're christening everything. Walls, floors, tables, everything. There's a bookshelf I'd like you to meet."
"Hate to be the boring one here, but could we christen a bed?" I asked. "Maybe a sofa? I'm a whore for soft surfaces."
"All of the above." Nick tapped at his phone, frowning at a text on his screen and then plucking his pager from his back pocket. It was hard to believe those things still existed. "I'm going to check in," he murmured. "I'm sure everything's fine, but I'd rather touch base now than get a page in the middle of the night." He looked up at me, a feral grin stretched across his face. "Because I have plans for the middle of the night."
"Hurry along," I said, patting his backside. "I'll be right here, or—" I pointed to the cake table. "Over there. I'm thinking I need a cake pop."
"You say that," he said, his voice full of faux disapproval, "but what you mean is you needsevencake pops."
"Explain to me how there's a problem with any of this," I said.
Nick kissed my forehead and stepped away, glancing back at me with a smile as he headed toward the interior of the firehouse. I grabbed my cake pops—only three, thank you kindly—and watched as Sam climbed onto the platform housing the band. He grabbed the microphone and held his hand out to Tiel. With a bit of shy reluctance, she joined him.
"Tonight we celebrate my wife," Sam said, smiling at her, "the most incredible woman in my world. Tiel, you are my sanctuary, my soul, my Sunshine."
He leaned down, kissing her deeply. It was good to see him this happy after everything he'd been through, and I was happy to see that he and Tiel found their way back to each other, too.
"But I want to raise a glass to a few others who made this possible, who delivered me to this point, whether they know it or not. To the elder statesmen," he said, holding up his champagne glass and gesturing toward Matt and Patrick. "To the keepers of all the best secrets." He nodded to Riley. "And to the wanderers who know when to wander home, and…the cornerstones, the ones who hold us together."
I followed his gaze to Shannon, and found her standing beside Will. Her arm was around his waist and his hand was on her shoulder. She was wearing a white sequined top, the kind you only found in high-end shops with thick carpeting and chandeliers. I'd bet that she was mortified that she showed up to a wedding—albeit a surprise one—wearing white. It didn't matter that the bride was dressed in peacock blue and probably didn't know or didn't care about that sort of nuptial etiquette.
"Without all of you," Sam continued, pointing to each of us with his glass, "I wouldn't be here. Cheers."
I didn't have a drink but I didn't want to skip out on Sam's one and only wedding toast, so I mimed along with the crowd. Pinching my make-believe champagne flute between my fingers, I continued watching Shannon. She was always a busybody in the best ways possible, looking after everyone else and making work for herself to avoid confronting any of the unpleasant shit in her world, but tonight she looked calm.Settled.She wasn't micromanaging the caterers or stomping around, annoyed that the bar was fresh out of bleu cheese-stuffed olives or something inconsequential like that. She was settled in all the right ways.
My heart leapt for my sister, and I smiled through the tears filling my eyes. Then I found her staring back at me. Her lips were folded in a severe line, and I couldn't decide whether she was shocked to see me or sorry she'd looked in this direction. It didn't matter. We were staring at each other now, me with a smile that seemed to start in my belly and spread out from there, her with a look of disbelief, and there was no turning back.
Will's hold on her shoulder tightened, and he turned her toward him by a few degrees. He was like a grizzly bear, big and ferocious, and wildly protective. If only we'd known that getting all of us together on Cape Cod for Matt and Lauren's wedding was going to be the catalyst for changing everything. That she found Will, and I found Nick when all the chaos seemed too much to handle was some kind of serendipity.
I nodded, and I prayed that tiny offering was enough to express all the things I wanted her to know. That time had been good for me, and distance, too. That I understood the choices she'd made, and I didn't blame her anymore. That I hoped she understood my choices. That someday I'd have more than a negligible head bob, and I'd find the words.
"Hey," Nick said, his hand low on my back and his gaze pinging between Shannon and me. "Go talk to her. Do it, Skip."
Shannon's eyebrow quirked up and her lips twisted into a smile that seemed to sayAre you kidding me right now? when she caught sight of Nick.
"Talk to her," he repeated.
Will's lips were moving, and Shannon was shaking her head. I imagined she was saying, "I have nothing to say to her" and I blinked back tears.
