That would’ve been more helpful for my job today. Or a large purse. I don’t even have room for a phone, much less this many glitter bombs.
“Are you so for real right now?” Tillie Jean Cole, sister of the groom and new mayor of Shipwreck—and also the person who put the glitter bomb ban into effect, which, yes, is Cooper’s fault—stops beside us and watches as the quieter of the two twins reaches into his pants and pulls out one more glitter bomb to add to the pile.
I don’t want to know what that glitter bomb was touching.
I truly don’t.
“They are definitely so for real right now,” I tell my friend. “How are you surprised by this?”
She’s clearly suppressing a smile too. “You guys. You know how to break into Cooper’s house, and you brought glitter bombs to the wedding instead?”
Once again, the twins share a look.
This one suggests there are, in fact, already other glitter bombs hidden at Cooper’s house.
The slightly larger twin clears his throat. “I need to go help my lady with the kids.”
The other nods. “Yep.”
They turn and disappear into the crowd, which is freaking impressive considering their size.
Tillie Jean grins at me. “Did you count how many there are?”
“You may not have any of these for private use.” Oh yes, I know exactly where her mind is going.Will Sloane notice if one disappears?
Tillie Jean has been one of my best friends since I moved here about six years ago after another wedding that was epic in its own way, even if the memory of why I was here for that one always makes me feel a little awkward. “You already tell people you had to explain to your obstetrician why your daughter was born glittered. I’m not enabling you to break your own ban.”
Her blue eyes twinkle in the dwindling sunlight. “You’re remarkably not fun today.”
“You can think I’m not fun all you want, but I’m having the time of my life. Do you know how many famous people I’ve gotten to shake down? I will never—ever—have this opportunity again in my entire life. I’m living up being the glitter po-po today.”
“Are you asking for their autographs while you do it?”
“I would be if this dress had pockets.” I pat my hips where pockets belong. “Why does my dress not have pockets?”
“Waverly’s dress has pockets.”
“I know. I’m jealous.”
“Honestly? Me too.I forgot pockets too. You’d think being a mom would’ve made me insist on pockets for this thing, but nope.” She fluffs her green bridesmaid dress and grins at me. “Would’ve been good for food too. Keep up the good work, and make sure you eat, okay?”
“On it all.”
She slips away, headed toward a group of Cooper’s teammates and their significant others, whom I’ve already shaken down for glitter bombs, and I get back to having fun.
The well-dressed wedding guests make their way to the dozen or so food tents set up along Blackbeard Avenue. I weave among them, keeping an eagle eye out for anyone who might be planning to interrupt the festivities with glitter bombs, occasionally pausing to breathe in the mingled scents of everything from fried chicken to gyros to butter chicken, all provided by local restaurants with extra help brought in by Cooper and Waverly so the normal restaurant staff can enjoy the wedding too.
It’s been an unseasonably warm day, and the mountains beyond Shipwreck are showing off as the sun sets behind them.
It’s like the world itself approves of this wedding.
I pass Tillie Jean’s husband, Max, who was a joint recipient of the glitter bomb that changed Shipwreck a couple years ago, and he gives me a fist bump. “Good work.”
“Tillie Jean shouldn’t give me too many more authoritarian jobs. This could go to my head.”
“Worse things have happened here.” He smiles, and their toddler daughter grins at me from his arms too, then dives in for a hug.
I catch her and squeeze her little body. “And you’re going to grow up with so much mischief that your Uncle Cooper won’t dare try to glitter bomb you, aren’t you?”
