“I’m trying to focus on not stepping on your feet.”
Her eyebrow and the corner of her mouth lift simultaneously. “Is that all?”
“Of course,” I lie.
Biting her lip, her eyes drop. “I don’t think it is.”
“Fuck,” I groan. “Don’t do that!”
She chuckles and smirks at me. “Thiswouldbe a very inconvenient time and place to get a boner.”
“Yes, it would be. And no, that’s not a challenge, sunshine,” I add when I see a glint in her eye.
“Fine,” she huffs. “But only for tonight. All bets are off starting tomorrow.”
“God, you’re such a sassy ass troublemaker.”
“You love it,” she declares.
I lean close, brushing her nose with mine. “I really fucking do.”
A couple of minutes later, I’m alone at our table when a hand claps me on the shoulder, and I turn toward Amelia’s dad.
“So that girl at the center of your wake-up call is our Minnie, huh?” he asks, looking surprisingly thrilled at the idea.
“That she is. She’s one hell of a woman, Barry.”
“I’d like to take credit for that, but I’m sure that’s more Joan’s doing than mine. But I’m happy for you both. As long as you treat her right, I won’t have to kill you. And none of that asking for my blessing shit when the time comes, that wayshedoesn’t have to kill you.”
I chuckle. “God, she absolutelywouldkill me.”
Gloria walks up to us. “Alright, boys, I’m busting up chat time and asking this hunk of a man to dance with me. I’m sure Minnie won’t mind as long as I keep my hands above the waist.”
“Watch yourself, Gloria,” Barry says, pointing at her like a parent would to drive the words home. Gloria just laughs and grabs my hand. We join the other pairs dancing. Henry and Raelynn are holding hands and twirling in circles in the middle of the dance floor.
Over the next few hours, we all change partners a million times, though I try to keep Amelia to myself as much as possible,especially for the occasional slow song. Lizzie dances with Henry and Raelynn often, and I notice that Haven and Dax share more than a few dances as well.
After a couple of hours, the catering staff brings out platters filled with cheese, meats, breads, and other late-night snack options. We eat, drink, and chat between dances. It seems as though most of the guests decided to stay at the reception that’s not a reception, and are making the most of a fucked up situation. Tiffany must have taken my advice and left because I don’t see her again after the incident at the bar. Katie and Gloria spend half the night laughing and drinking at a table, and the other half dancing with whoever they can pin down for a song.
When Amelia told me she and Lizzie made a playlist of inappropriate songs to play at a wedding reception, I thought she was joking. I don’t know why I ever doubted her; those two are their own brand of wild. Cardi B’sWAPcomes on over the speakers as soon as the younger kids are taken upstairs for the night. It’s just the first of many songs one might not expect to hear in the setting, but it shouldn’t really be surprising, knowing Lizzie and Amelia, or given the whole jilted thing. I’m pretty sure the entire Bitter Bitch playlist plays over the course of the night.
It’s after midnight when the crowd starts to thin out and an hour later almost everyone has gone up to their rooms. Katie and Gloria are still laughing about who knows what at one table while Grant and Dax chat at another.
I can tell that between our activities last night and all the dancing, Amelia’s leg is bothering her. I drag her to the table and go to the bar for fresh drinks. When I sit next to her, she rests her head on my shoulder and her hand on my thigh as she watches Lizzie and Haven giggle their way through a ridiculous tango. I sip my Scotch and stretch my arm outacross the back of Amelia’s chair, gently running my fingertips along her shoulder.
“I’m going to have to be the one to shut it down, aren’t I?” I ask, smiling as the girls get to the end of the dance floor and turn back the other way. They’re the only ones still dancing, each have a flower that is most definitely not a rose in their teeth, and no shoes on their feet. Hell, even I took my shoes off a while ago.
“Yeah. But give them a few more songs first.” Even though I can’t see her face, I can hear the smile in her voice.
Fifteen minutes later, I make my way to the DJ and tell him we’re wrapping the dance party up. When a new song doesn’t start afterCold Heartedby Paula Abdul, Lizzie pouts until I agree to one more. She picks Nessa Barrett’sI hope ur miserable until ur deadand spends the entire two minutes and fifty-eight seconds spinning and screaming the words at the ceiling.
“Do you think she’ll be okay alone tonight?” I ask Amelia.
She shrugs a shoulder, not looking very worried. But I must look exactly as worried as I feel because she wraps her arms around my waist.
“Hey, she’s a strong, badass bitch who knows when to ask for support. If she’s not okay, she’ll reach out to someone. She feels like she needs to try to be alone, and we need to let her until she says otherwise.”
I nod, trusting her to know her best friend better than anyone. When the song ends, we all grab our shoes and walk to the elevators in socks or barefoot. Everyone heads to their rooms once we reach their floor.
