“Nope.” I shake my head. “I’m stronger than that.”
Anthony snorts, and it reminds me of Matilda. Where is she, by the way? I glance around the room. She’s still not here. I’m about to inquire about the funny, little woman when my brother interjects, “It has nothing to do with brute strength, big brother. It’s about wanting to make that other person happy.” He blinks, and I see real sincerity. “All I want is for Victoria to be happy, to get the wedding she’s always wanted, even if it means humiliating myself in the process.”
“Yeah, well, here’s the problem with your thought process… I’m not the one getting married, yet I’m the one that’ll be humiliated.Youcan dance.”
“Come on, Alec.” Anthony’s voice is pleading. “Just try.”
Just try.I’m about to say more when the music starts. I rotate my head just as the guy in the satiny shirt starts to move up the middle of the aisle we’ve created. The song sounds familiar. Is it from a movie? Whatever it is, it’s upbeat. I watch as the silky-shirt guy stops halfway up the aisle. Next, he raises his arms, swivels his hips, and then… he does the unthinkable. He shimmies. And it dawns on me. This guy is demonstrating what each of us is going to have to do.In front of three hundred people.
Leaning over so he can hear me, I whisper in Anthony’s ear. “I’m definitely gonna kick your ass when this is over.”
“Fair enough.”
ChapterSix
Matilda
I’m late.Not my fault, though. Just as I was leaving my house, I got a text from Vicky with an order for coffees and muffins for her and her bridesmaids from the fancy coffee place down the street from the dance studio. Reluctantly, I didn’t argue with the bride-to-be. Instead, I drove like a bat out of hell to the coffee shop and ordered everything on the list, from macchiatos to iced coffees. I paid for them out of my own pocket, which really adds up when you’re talking that many extra-large coffees and muffins. Sweat starts to bead at my hairline as they swipe my debit card. God, I hope I have enough in my account to cover it and that Vicky reimburses me.
Luckily, the shop has carriers for this quantity of food and drinks. With the order in hand, I decide it’s safer to walk to the studio, less risk of spilling in my car. Not surprisingly, by the time I appear at the door of the dance studio, they’ve already started rehearsing. I do my best not to draw attention to myself upon entering, but the door is heavy and makes a loud banging noise as it shuts behind me.
“Sorry,” I say while also hunching my shoulders due to the weight of everything I’m carrying. That and embarrassment because everyone has turned to stare at me.
“It’s about time.” Vicky stomps over to me. “What’d you have to do, pick the coffee beans yourself?”
“Hardy har har.” I’m not actually laughing.
“Where’s mine?” Chrissie asks, coming up behind Vicky. I set the carriers onto the ground and point. “Names are on them.”
The remaining bridesmaids rush to the cups. The first to complain is Chrissie. “This is cold.” She holds up her cup and frowns. “Jesus, you’re useless, Mattie.”
I’m going to ignore her.
“Mine is too,” whines Bridget.
“Mine tastes funny.” I’m not sure who says that––it sounded like Kelsey, but I don’t really care because I’ve got more important things to say.
“Vicky?” I look over at her. “That was eighty-three bucks.”
“Thanks, Mattie.” She smiles slyly. “It’s nice of you to treat us to breakfast.”
“I, uh, no.” I shake my head. She knows I’m broke. Well, she knows I have a shitty job, which is the same thing. “Vicky, I can’t—”
“May we continue?” Madame DuBois snaps.
“Yes, Madame.” Vicky makes a beeline back to the group, apologizing as she goes. The others follow her like puppies. I’d laugh at that visualization if I weren’t worried about the money.
I make my way over to the group. When I spot my brother, I line up opposite him like the other ladies. Everyone’s focus is on a man in the middle of the room. He’s wearing tight, black pants and a purple, satin shirt that’s showing a whole lot of chest hair. I’m not sure that’s a good look for him, or anyone for that matter, but that’s none of my business. Glancing down at my own attire, I can’t help thinking my outfit is as good as it’s gonna get. I spent a little extra time getting ready this morning—not for any specific reason or anything. I put in triple the time I usually do to dry my hair and attempt to straighten it. I’m not great with fixing my hair, but I tried. I chose my nicest pair of jeans—ones with only one small hole in the knee—and a shirt with no writing on the front. See? I made an effort. Of course, my shoes are the same. Chucks. Some things never change. Today I’m wearing my red ones.
Staring at the man in the center of the room as he swivels his hips, I feel eyes on me. Sure, go ahead and think I’m crazy, but when I look up, someoneislooking at me. Alec. Of course, he’s frowning. My first instinct is to laugh, but honestly, I’m not in the mood. That’s when I realize, I’m frowning right back at him. It’s not like me to be in such a bad mood. I try to see the bright side of things. But dammit, eighty-three bucks is a lot of money to me.
It’s your own damn fault, Matilda. You should have gotten the money up front.
Either that or I could’ve said no to Vicky. I should have demanded they get their own stupid coffees, but I wanted her to see how willing I am to make her wedding perfect—to help in any way I can. Because, like I said before, Vicky and I are not the closest. I’d like to bridge that divide. I guess eighty-three bucks is a bargain if she starts to like me.
“Now, the ladies.”
I need to stop wallowing and focus on the task at hand. I watch as a woman struts up to the man in the shiny shirt. She takes hold of his extended hand, and the pair begin a rather complicated set of steps that include shimmies, hip thrusts, and a couple of swivels in unison. He spins her around three times, then dips her low to the ground. It’s impressive, honestly. And difficult. Alec is leaning closer to his brother, the groom. He’s whispering something to Anthony, who has a hand over his mouth covering a laugh, it appears.
