They shared a look, and Reese smiled as the soft beat passed between them. “I really like your dad. Your mom, too.”
“Thanks, I think they’re pretty great,” Brynn said, genuine affection infusing hervoice.
“Are you having fun?” Reese looked around, wondering where Grant was, not that she was even a little torn up about not having to deal with him at the moment.
“I swear I’ve met half of New England in the past few months,” Brynn said as she let out a deep sigh. “It’s been great, but it’s a lot for me. I’m not exactly a people person.”
Reese bumped their shoulders together, surprised at the little surge of protectiveness she felt. “Well, I’m a person, and you’re doing great with me.”
“You and Sydney are really easy to talk to.”
“I’m going to give most of the credit to her,” Reese said as her eyes flitted to Sydney, who was standing a few feet away.
When Sydney felt her stare and lifted her eyes to lock with hers, Reese felt it through her whole body. The feeling pulsed and buzzed and gave her a better high than any glass of champagne ever could—not that she hadn’t already had one of those since arriving. An empty flute was now balanced between her fingers.
She let the feeling warm her from the inside out, indulgent and so not how she’d ever behaved. Sydney’s eyes mapped her, those perfectly plump lips tipping into a knowing smile.
It was like she could feel Sydney’s hand on her thigh again, inching it up in her mind, wondering what would have happened if they hadn’t been interrupted. How soft Sydney’s lips had looked, like they were made to be kissed.
Reese was wrapped up in the moment. Was Brynn still next to her? Unclear. What time was it? None of her business. Was her sycophantic father prowling about? She couldn’t have cared less.
She was so completely trained on Sydney’s face, on the line of her jaw and the colors in her cheeks, that Reese failed to notice what was happening around them. It was too late when she put all the pieces together; the scene playing out in slow motion.
Brynn was standing up straighter next to her. The waiter had moved into the periphery of Sydney’s group to offer champagne refills. And finally, stumbling into Reese’s view as she tore her stare awayfrom Sydney…
…was Grant. The antithesis of nimble as he stumbled into the waiter. Time sped up, and it felt like everything was happening at once.
The champagne flutes were airborne for the briefest of seconds; then they shattered on the ground at the same time a dark purple stain spread outward from the side of Sydney’s romper, like blood pooling after a gunshot. Sydney had made the mistake of being more aware of herself in the moments leading up to this disaster, and she’d turned her body briefly, her frame becoming a perfect target for the wasted champagne.
Reese was at her side in a second, the waiter already looking apologetic and trying to do damage control.
“I’m so sorry, miss. Truly,” he said, offering the cloth on his arm to Sydney, who was already plucking the soaked material away from her skin. “Give me just a moment, and I’ll be back to clean everything up.”
He scurried away through the crowd as a few heads turned in their direction.
“Are you okay?” Reese’s hand was already gentled against her back as she looked at Sydney for any signs she’d been cut with a stray piece from the broken flutes.
Reese held her hand out, which Sydney accepted as she stepped away from the pile of broken glass littering the stone patio. “Surprised more than anything else.”
“But you’re good?” Reese asked quickly, already onto her new most pressing matter, now that she’d realized Sydney was safe.
Sydney gave Reese’s hand a squeeze, her eyes uncertain as she saw the look on her face. “I’m good. I’m going to head inside and clean up.”
“You should go upstairs. Third door on the right. There’s an en suite in that bathroom.” She hadn’t lived in this house in fifteen years, but she had no doubts that her mother kept every room meticulously maintained and stocked.
Reese disengaged their hands, though not before she ran herfingers across Sydney’s knuckles, their softness doing little to abate the fury rising inside of her. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”
Seconds ago, the world had felt soft and hazy. Now it was sharp. Angry.Shewas angry.
Until this moment, with fire running through her veins, neither she nor Sydney had looked at Grant. Before he’d careened into the waiter, she hadn’t even noticed him skulking about.
They’d been at the party for a little over an hour at this point, and except for seeing him on the sidelines of the heartfelt speech that Margie and Stan had given on behalf of the parents, she hadn’t engaged with him. Thankfully.
But now, as she studied him more closely and tried to focus her rage, she could see the wrinkles in his half-untucked shirt, which had been obscured by his sportcoat until he started to turn around. His eyes were glassy but bloodshot, and he had a small stain on the knee of his khaki pants.
“You’re drunk,” Reese hissed. She stepped closer to him, separating him from the group he was trying to join.
Brynn stood behind Reese, more than willing to stay out of the fray. Reese couldn’t blame her, but in her not-expert opinion on matrimony, it seemed like a bad start to things if the bride-to-be was already cowering in embarrassment.
