He’s not the only one having an eyes-widening, brows-raising, nudging-his-partner reaction.
“Is there any chance that any of you might mercifully, miraculously, opt to keep your comments to yourselves?” Wyatt asks as he pulls out a chair for me.
The three couples dart glances around the table, then say in unison, “Nah.”
“Okay, could you at least pretend to be a little surprised?” I ask.
Gabe gestures at the side-by-side chairs they left open for us. “We cannot.”
“Hey, Wyatt.” Liv leans forward and swipes at the side of his neck. “You’ve got a little something right here.” She then holds up her fingers. “My word, is this lipstick?”
“All right, all right!” I shout above the whistles and ohhhh-ing from our alleged friends, but it gets worse when Darby holds out her hand and wiggles her fingers at Sebastian, and her brother hands her a twenty from his wallet with a grumble.
In the middle of all the celebrating, Wyatt calmly drapes an arm across the back of my chair and fiddles with a lock of my hair. He looks happy.
Oh my god, he looks so happy.
And he notices me getting emotional about it, of course.
“Crying again, Parrish?”
“No,” I choke out.
His lips press against my temple. “Don’t worry, you’re about to get cheered up.”
He’s beyond correct.
“Tap-dancing drag queens?” I turn to him in open-mouthed delight.
He shrugs like it’s a given. “Nine ladies dancing.”
Following another brass introduction, nine women of various heights, races, and body types take center stage. They’re all immaculately and extravagantly dressed in shades of red and green, with flawless makeup and wigs that defy gravity. Patty cues up a techno-Christmas-disco song from the AV booth, and as the upbeat jam rolls through the speakers overhead, the women launch into a routine that fills the ballroom with rhythmic click-clacking. Each queen gets a breakout moment before they come together for the grand finale of tapping, shimmying, posing, and spinning.
“Cash for the table?”
I tear my eyes away from the performance to see Becks holding a tray of white envelopes. When I look at Wyatt, he says, “What? They work on tips.”
Before reaching for an envelope, I fling my arms around the neck of this kind, thoughtful, occasionally scowly man, and a moment later, there’s a clatter and we’re both squeezed by a third pair of arms.
“You guys!” Becks squeals. “Is this really happening? Am I getting another cool new sister?”
“Um…” I’m not sure how to answer.
“Yes,” Wyatt says.
“Yes?” The rest of the ballroom falls away as I stare into his smiling brown eyes.
“Yes,” he says again.
Becks and Drea. Jonesy. Sophia,Tristan, and Kai. Wyatt’s mom and stepdad. He’s giving me the gift of his incredible family. Even Liv, my best friend in the world, is going to be more of a sister than she already was.
“This is fast,” I warn him, almost lightheaded in my joy.
“Disagree.” He tucks my hair behind my ear. “It’s been years.”
“Oh my godddddddd,” Becks whispers. “Wyatt actually does have game. I have to tell Drea!”
She whirls to chase her sister down, but Wyatt’s pointed throat-clearing has her sheepishly spinning back to the table to collect her dropped tray. “After I hand out the cash, of course.”
