"I don't get it," I say as she darts away in crisis mode. "Why agree to this circus?"
Matt tenses slightly, and for half a beat I think I've pissed him off. But then his expression lightens. "Because Sarah wants it," he says. "And I want her to have everything she dreams of. You'll understand when you meet someone who makes you go against every instinct just to make them happy."
Well, shit. What am I supposed to say to that?
"Don't tell me you're about to start writing poetry or something," I manage, but it lacks bite.
He grins. "Nah. But Ididlearn what chartreuse means. It's a color, not a type of lettuce."
"Everyone needs to be seated!" Kristal announces to the empty room. "We start in four minutes!"
I blink at Matt. "There's a schedule for lunch?"
"Oh yeah." His grin turns devilish. "Did you not see the full itinerary in your room? The one with the color-coded tabs and emergency contact numbers?"
"Must've missed it between the rose petals and the origami birds."
"Swans," he corrects. "And they're towel art, not origami. Very different thing."
"What have they done to you?"
He laughs, grabbing two wine glasses from a passing server. "Just wait until you see what Kristal has planned for the bachelor party. Hint: there's a scavenger hunt involved."
"You're kidding."
"With personalized clue cards.In calligraphy."
"I've died and this is my punishment," I decide, accepting the wine he hands me. "I'm actually in hell."
"Welcome to wedding week, baby bro. And hey," His smirk comes back full force, "try not to drool too obviously at yourfriend. Sarah's mom already thinks this generation has no morals."
By the time thecornbread hits the table, Magnolia's sent back her salad twice, Jefferson's apologized to Virginia four times, and Caleb still hasn't looked at me once. I'm seriously regretting not listening to Amelia's warning about rich people's weddings being "next-level chaos wrapped in designer labels." I tug at the hem of my vintage sundress, feeling woefully underdressed.
I'm so glad I'm good with names, because Sarah's whirlwind introductions over pre-lunch cocktails felt like a speed round of Guess Who? Virginia, the ice queen maid of honor. Jefferson, the apologetic groomsman and Virginia's ex. Carter, the smooth-talking finance guy. Dean, and his wife, Dixie. Mary, with her snide commentary. And Delilah, who keeps asking if I can do a tarot reading. Not to mention Wyatt, who's been openly flirting with Sarah, while schmoozing up to her parents like he's auditioning for the role of son-in-law.
Next to me, Caleb shifts in his chair, radiating tension usually reserved for dental procedures. I want to ask what's wrong, but he's been doing his best statue impression since we sat down.
"I just think," Jefferson says from across the table, his sculpted muscles straining against the polo shirt, "if we could talk about what happened—"
"Pass the butter?" Virginia cuts him off, addressing her request to Dixie.
I glance at Caleb again, waiting for his trademark smirk at the unfolding chaos. Nothing.
"It's not my fault the yoga instructor was interested in me," Jefferson mutters.
The room goes dead silent. You could hear a pin drop if not for the soft clink of Sarah's wine glass, her engagement ring flashing like a warning flare as she winces behind the rim.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Virginia cuts in, voice flat, "are you talking about the yoga instructor I found in our bed? The one who was helping you achieve your perfect downward dog while I was at my two-week juice cleanse retreat?"
"She said my alignment was off!"
"Oh, something was definitely off. Including your zipper, mid–warrior pose."
Jefferson looks like he might dissolve into his chair, tan skin flushed with embarrassment. "I tried to stop her—"
"Right. Must have been so traumatic for you. Tell me, did she give you a discount for all thatextra stretching?"
I suddenly become deeply invested in the geography of my mashed potatoes. Beside me, Caleb makes a sound that might be a laugh, but quickly turns it into a cough when Virginia shoots him a glare, her perfectly arched eyebrows forming twin crescents of judgment.
