“Oh my God,” I murmur under my breath.
Placing her empty glass onto the tray of a passing waiter, Hannah takes my hand and offers me a saccharine smile, leading me deeper into the soiree.
“Hannah?”
Hannah stops, turning at the sound of the high-pitched voice calling her name.
“Fuck me,” she mutters softly enough so only I can hear, and I turn, following the direction of her fake smile to see three blonde women, all around Hannah’s age, with almost identical smiles that are borderline creepy as hell.
“Wow,” the first blonde says, looking Hannah up and down with a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Look at you.”
Hannah keeps her chin held high, her smile beaming despite her gritted teeth.
“I didn’t knowyouwere coming,” one of the other blondes says, barely disguising her disdain.
“Yeah, I mean, it is mymother’swedding,” Hannah says like it’s obvious.
“And who do we have here?” the third blonde asks, looking in my direction, her gaze hungry as it trails over me.
“This is myboyfriend,” Hannah says, emphasizing my title asshe wraps her arm around my waist, staking her claim. “Happy Slater.”
“Happy?” the second blonde, the more bitchy of the three, scoffs. “Is that your real name?”
“Yes, ma’am.” I nod, flashing her my trademark grin.
“Adorable…” the first blonde says, looking me up and down.
I instinctively shift closer to Hannah.
“Happy, this is Celeste, Amanda, and Jolene.” Hannah points to each one. “We went to high school together.”
“I’m the wedding coordinator.” Celeste, the first blonde and the nicer of the three—if that’s possible—thrusts her hand in my face, and I hesitate before shaking it.
“Did you not see the dress code memo on the invitation?” Amanda, the blonde who doesn’t even try to hide the fact that she’s a raging bitch quirks a brow at Hannah.
“Yes, I did.” Hannah smiles.
Amanda makes another show of looking my girl up and down again, and I have to remind myself that I don’t raise my voice at women.
“I didn’t see a plus one on your RSVP…” Celeste says with an awkward smile, glancing briefly at me.
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Hannah huffs a dramatic sigh, pointing her thumb at me. “He only arrived this morning. He’s a professional ice hockey player, and we didn’t know if he’d make it.”
Jolene gasps, her eyes lighting up as she gapes at me. “Ice hockey?”
I nod once.
“Well, the thing is,” Celeste interjects, a smile twisting her lips that isn’t at all apologetic, “the seating arrangement won’t allow another guest at your table.”
Hannah waves a hand. “Oh, that’s okay. I can just sit on Happy’s face.” She gasps then, and when I gape at her, she’s smirking at me. “Did I just say face?” She laughs out loud, gently smacking herself against her forehead. “Of course, I meant lap. Silly me.”
Jolene scoffs, clearly offended. And I don’t like this one bit, so I decide to play along. Turning to Hannah, I pinch her chin lightly between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her eyes to mine as I say lowly yet loud enough for the three blonde assholes to hear, “You can sit on my face anytime, baby.” And then, I lean down and kiss her fully, tongue and all, for everyone to witness.
“Okay, well,” someone says. I’m not sure who. I’m too caught up with this kiss to give a shit. “Y’all have fun.”
By the time Hannah and I come back up for air, I glance over my shoulder to find the blondes have scurried off, and it’s just the two of us again.
“Friends of yours?” I quirk a brow, grinning down at her, still holding her chin and smoothing my thumb over the corner of her mouth, collecting the small smear of red lipstick.
