Angus
Finishing my whiskey, I pour another and sit in the diminutive chair while waiting for my brother Taurus to finish his tux fitting. My other two brothers are absorbed in conversation with the other groomsmen, but I sit here, lost in my anxiety.
While I am thrilled for Thoreau for finding love, I cannot stop thinking about being paired up with a human woman during the entire wedding night. His fiance, Phoebe, is human and fantastic. But, let’s face it, most human women are probably freaked out by us minotaurs. Our size. Our horns. Our paranormal life.
When he asked me to be a groomsman, I expressed this concern to my engaged brother, but he waved it away.
“Phoebe would never be friends with paranormal bigots, Angus,” he said, “And she certainly wouldn’t ask people like that to stand up for her in our wedding.”
What he said made total sense, but now here I am, a ball of worry.
“Earth to Angus,” Serapion says, the oldest of us Del Toro brothers, and waves his hand in my face.
“Oh, sorry. Is it my turn?”
“Yes. Lara wants to measure you before Tate and Darius, since they need to be raised higher on her platform.”
“Got it.”
Standing up on the platform while the seamstress pins my tux, I look over at Tate and Darius with a slight zap of jealousy running through my body. While they are also paranormal, being shifters, I envy their ability to walk around in their human-forms. My horns and hoofs are always on display, never mind my size.
“Dude, you look dapper,” Thoreau calls over to me, raising a glass of whiskey in his hand.
“You do look suave, brother. The ladies will be eyeing you for sure,” Taurus says.
Smiling, I shake my head. All three of my brothers have had zero issues in the ladies' department. None of them have been playboys, mind you, but I am the only one who has barely dated anyone. This, I realize, probably makes my anxiety even worse around women.
Well, human women.
Back on our truffle farm, Pip, JoJo, Pansy, and Tank attack me when I enter the farmhouse. Our Lagotto Romagnolos are working dogs, but we also treat them like family.
“Whoa, hello, hello,” I say, laughing.
A handful of treats later, they go off with Taurus while I head upstairs to my room. Thoreau has lived off the farm for years now, but Taurus, Serapion, and I continue to call it home. Reaching my bedroom, I close the door and collapse on top of my bed. Something needs to change, because I can’t keep carrying this anxiety around. For all I know, whoever I am paired with in the wedding party will be super chill and cool. Or married. Or gay. Or whatever.
Well, the wedding isn’t for a few more weeks, so I need to get over myself for now. Grabbing my current read off the nightstand, I settle in my rocking chair and get lost in a world of gangsters and witches.
On the afternoon of the rehearsal, I stand in front of my full-length mirror and mull over the clothes I am wearing. During these last few weeks, I have focused on releasing my wedding party anxiety and worry. But, I still want to look the best I can. I want to make a good impression.
Why? I don't really know. Probably because I will have to interact with this woman for an entire evening, take photos with her, eat beside her, and even dance with her.
I know little about the bridesmaid I am paired with. She’s a principal at Phoebe's old school, that much I’m aware of. But I have zero idea of what she looks like or anything else. Part of me likes that, but the other part hates it because I can’t prepare myself for whatever I’ll be dealing with.
Serapion, Taurus, and I arrive at Mare Pacificum, a fine-dining restaurant right on the beach, to find the staff carrying a table out of the room where we are holding the rehearsal dinner. Thoreau and Phoebe are in the room's corner, speaking with their officiant, when my brother notices us walk in.
“The restaurant set up the wrong sized table for us. It’s getting fixed,” Thoreau explains.
Looking out of the room, I see the staff struggling with a much larger, heavier looking table. I grab my other two brothers’ attention and we head out to help them. Stifling a laugh at the employee’s relieved faces, I grab the end of the table while my brothers assist on the sides. Once positioned on the floor, the staff breaks out into applause for us. I guess having mighty minotaurs around can be useful.
The staff quickly gets the table set up before the rest of the wedding party shows. Standing off to the side, with Taurus and Serapion, my back is to the door when I feel a prickling along my neck. Turning, I see three women walk in, followed by happy squeals from Phoebe. All three are attractive, but one sticks out to me.
The woman, about a foot and a half shorter than me, sports warm, dark eyes. Her black and silver short haircut accentuates her high cheekbones and full, pouty lips. Our eyes meet and my entire bone structure turns to jello, sinking into my hooves. My stomach, filled with butterflies, turns and tosses while I soak in her curvy, voluptuous body.
I don’t know who this is, but she’s gorgeous and my first instinct is to hide under the table.
3
Elizabeth
