“Me too,” he tells her.
“Then tell her she’s a stunner.”
“Sharla knows she’s a stunner.”
“So do I,” Zoey says, putting him in his place. “Women don’t need their egos stroked as often as men.”
My brother laughs as he walks beside her. Our maid of honor and best man. They’re the two most important people in our lives, besides each other.
I’ve grown closer to Liam over the last year, closer than we’ve been since we were little kids. He isn’t a bad guy. Sure, he is still a jagoff, but he has his moments of kindness, even if they are as rare as spotting a black Florida panther in the wild.
Lulu chuckles beside me, squeezing my hand. “They fight like they’re siblings,” she says, peering up at me and squinting from the fading sunlight.
“That they do,” I tell her.
The night passes quickly.
Dinner. Drinks. Dancing.
The sun slowly drops below the horizon as the lights on the terrace kick on, casting the party in a soft glow.
We’ve spoken to every single person who’s attended the wedding, and that took most of our time.Lulu’s family is mind-bogglingly large, and I won’t remember half their names by morning.
“This was the best day ever,” Lulu says in my arms as we move around the dance floor.
“Mine too, sweetheart,” I say, adjusting my arm around her waist and holding her closer.
“It’s time for the bouquet,” the DJ says into the microphone.
“I have to,” Lulu tells me as she pushes out of my arms. “It’s almost time for us to leave.”
Thank God.
“All the single ladies to the dance floor,” the man says, and no fewer than twenty women make their way to the middle, huddling together.
I watch as my wife climbs up near the DJ booth, waving to her friends and family who are waiting to catch the bouquet, a tradition I’ve never really understood.
Zoey stands in the dead center, looking about as uninterested as I feel. Lulu turns around and lifts her arms a few times before she lets go, and the bouquet of flowers hurtles through the air.
I watch in amazement as the women lunge forward, misjudging the distance, and completely miss the catch. But the flowers smack Zoey right in the chest and drop into her hands.
“Fuck,” she mutters, staring down at the flowers like they’re about to catch fire.
Lulu turns, her eyes widening when she realizesher sister caught the bouquet. “Yay,” she says, clapping.
“Damn it,” Zoey groans as she marches toward Lulu. “You did that on purpose.”
“My aim isn’t that good, sissy.”
“You turned into a professional thrower.”
“There’s no such thing as a professional thrower.”
“Like Uncle Vinnie.”
“He was a quarterback.”
“Whatever.” Zoey rolls her eyes, trying to give the flowers back to Lulu.
