Gabe stood and flashed an apologetic smile. "The show must go on. You can hang out in my spot, or go sit with the girls." He motioned to Becca's side of the table, where her two bridesmaids sat.
I shifted into his chair without comment. I didn't even know their names, and I'd walked down the aisle with the blonde one.
Feedback on a microphone startled us all to silence, and then Gabe's smooth tenor came over the loudspeaker, telling folks at his dad's table to start the line at the buffet, followed by the table between us, and then mine. My parents rushed to their seats after the announcement, and then we played the waiting game until it was their turn to get food.
"I met your mate," my dad said, kicking the toe of my boot under the table without moving out of his seat. "He's handsome. And very sweet."
"He is," I agreed, though I wanted to crawl under the white tablecloth and hide. My dad and I never talked about boys. Mom had been my go-to parent for the birds and the bees, break-ups, and heartaches.
Dad liked professional sports and action movies. The first, I'd never gotten into, but the second had been our love language since I was a toddler. "Have you seen the new Bautista flick?" I asked, starting a heated debate that lasted until it was the table's turn through the buffet line. I sat quietly and waited, but then we continued our discussion after he returned to the table with a plate piled high with barbecued pork and every side imaginable.
For her part, Mom didn't leave the movie conversations up to her boys, as she called us. She gave as good as she got. "Too many explosions, not enough feelings," she said during a lull in the conversation.
"The interlude with his brother made me cry," Dad retorted.
"That's because you're emotionally stunted and needed the outlet. For the emotionally regulated, that was nothing."
Our conversation was cut short by the screech of the microphone again. Gabe really needed to learn how to hold it farther from his body.
"Congratulations to the happy couple, Bruce and Becca Carson!"
They walked through the decorated arch in the doorway looking far from happy. Becca glared at Bruce, who looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. Then, she took his hand, glanced up at him, and her entire demeanor changed. She closed her eyes and nodded, and his responding smile lit up his face.
At the chime of metal on crystal, Bruce bent her backward and kissed her to ecstatic cheers, whoops, and whistles.
"The wedding party will now assemble at the head of the line. Sorry, folks. I appreciate your patience while we get these folks fed and onto the dance floor."
"Gabe's a hoot," Mom said, tapping her elbow against mine. "He's calling you, by the way."
"Hmm?"
"You're the wedding party."
Right. I wriggled from my chair, walking the back legs behind me so they didn't scrape across the parquet flooring. Each time someone stood up too fast, it sounded worse than a record scratch. The sound was even more annoying to the shifters among us.
I followed my nose to the delicious smells along the side wall and stood in line behind everyone else, ignored until Gabe approached me.
"How's everything going so far?" he asked.
"I'm fine," I said. "I'm not the one who has to deal with a grumpy-ass dad and a bride about to murder her husband. Have you talked to her?"
"No, not yet. I think they're gonna be okay, though," he said. "I hope."
He knew Becca better than I did, at least. Ahead of me in line, the happy couple now stared into each other's eyes, talking and laughing as they dished food onto each other's plates.
"How much longer before you get to eat?" I asked.
Instead of answering me, he flipped the switch on the microphone and said, "Third row of tables, you're up." He side-stepped so he stood beside me rather than behind me in line, and motioned with the live microphone, making it whine. "Oops." He hastily shut it off.
One more step, and I was even with the caterer handing out plates and asking if I wanted one sandwich or two.
"Vegetarian option?" I asked.
"Baked potato." He dropped the largest potato I'd ever seen on my plate. I wasn't a spud fan, but I compensated with heaping spoons of macaroni and cheese, coleslaw, and pasta salad mixed with sliced vegetables to make people think it was good for them. It was a ton of carbs, but I was still at a deficit after healing from yesterday's swimming fiasco. I added an extra dollop of sour cream and a few chives and followed the bridesmaids to the table.
Isiah still wouldn't look at me, but he nudged my shoulder when I sat down beside him. "How are you feeling today?"
"Like I got hit by a shark."
