She looks back at the buffet line, which is still growing. “Can we ditch it after we eat? I stole a brownie bite, but I’m starving.”
“I can eat,” I reply, taking her hand and leading us to join the back of the line.
“Is that an offer for later?”
“You don’t have to ask me twice.” When we get in line, I lean toward her ear. “You’re my favorite dessert, Sass.”
“Such a charmer tonight. I should bring you to weddings more often.”
Wrapping my arm around her shoulders, I kiss the top of her head. “What can I say? Love is in the air.”
We go through the buffet line and then find our two seats at a table in the far corner from the dance floor. I get drinks from the bar. Fortunately, my fingers are getting stronger, even with the cast on, so carrying a champagne stem is not a problem. It’s good to feel somewhat normal again. I take a sip of my bourbon just before I’m called up to give the best man’s speech.
I try to find Delaney’s eyes, but the room has gone dark with an empty spotlight waiting for me to fill on the dance floor. I set the drinks down on the nearest table before pulling my phone from my pocket and recalling memories from Jimmy’s and my past, landing a few good-natured jokes about his awful dating life, and sharing a few embarrassing stories to build up to the main event that led us here today. He talked to her on a dare because I knew she was the one for him. Before he did, I added for levity. It was quite the crowd-pleaser. When I wrap it up, I go straight to hug the lucky couple, wishing them luck before I grab theglasses and head back to find Delaney.
When I return to our table, some schmuck has stupidly sat down next to her. My blood doesn’t boil because I’m not threatened by his paisley purple tuxedo and slicked-back gelled helmet for hair. But I don’t like it when he leans in, forcing her to lean away from him.
And here I thought I’d have to go looking for trouble to get another black eye for my girl’s pleasure. Looks like it found me. “Excuse me, you’re in my seat.” I set the drinks down next to her, getting a strong suspicion I might need my hands free from objects.
The guy glances at me and then returns to speak to Delaney like I didn’t say a damn word. Delaney says to the guy, “You need to move. This is his seat.”
When he grabs her wrist and says, “Let’s dance,” my blood fucking boils.
As soon as he stands, Delaney’s already ripped her wrist free, but now he’ll deal with me. “Don’t touch my wife again.”
He glances from my hand to hers, catching on quickly that I might be lying. “Wife?” He laughs. “She’s not wearing a ring. Only a green stain on her finger, ya cheap bastard. Did you buy her ring out of a candy machine?”
The reflex to send him to his grave has me pulling my arm back, but Delaney’s hands land so fast on my chest that I’m pushed back a step. “No, Warner.”
“Down boy,” the guy says, still laughing, but this time, he begins to back away with his arms up in front of him. “She’s got that leash tight around that collar of yours.”
I lower my arm. “Get the fuck out of here.” There always has to be one asshole in the crowd. He’s probably some drunk-ass distant cousin one of their mothers insisted on inviting. From the slightest Midwestern accent I pick up on, he sure as fuck isn’t from around here.
“She ain’t that hot, man.” He’s quick to slip through some couples standing near the next table.
The encounter doesn’t bother me as much as the confidence I see draining from Delaney. Her expression fell along with her shoulders, which she held back before he came around.
“You know it’s bullshit, right?”
“Yeah, sure.” Swallowing seems to strain the plastered grin she had for me. “We should eat something,” she says, sitting down again.
When I sit next to her, she takes a bite of a roll, but the chicken and the salad are still untouched. She can’t seem to will herself to eat despite probably wanting the distraction.
I rub her back and pull her to my side. “He doesn’t matter.”
“That’s what sucks. I know he doesn’t, but he still managed to get in my head.”
“You know what? Fuck him. Fuck this whole thing. I know a great Italian place on the West Side.”
Her smile blooms for me. “Bayetti’s?”
“Yeah, you think we can get a reservation on a Saturday night on short notice?”
With her mood lifted, she says, “I can pull a few strings.”
I stand, taking her by the hand. When we turn, my mother is there. Her eyes go from me to the hand I’m holding. “Hello, Son.” She looks at Delaney without so much as a smile. “I don’t remember us being formally introduced last time. I’m Grace Landers. You’re Delaney Bayetti. Is that right?”
The sudden shiver in her hand has me wrapping mine around it and holding it at my side. I’m not sure how my mother knows, but her investigative skills are impressive. Delaney replies, “Yes.”
