Blade wrapped an arm around me and took a bite of the corn dog.
“I know you wanted one of those tasteful cream-and-beige engagement parties,” Blade said after the cameraman left, “but to be honest, my brothers would have ruined it.”
A group of his brothers had set up a beer pong station and were playing a rousing game against a pack of senior citizens.
I sighed. “The wedding will be tasteful, right? That’s what’s important.”
“Eat your corndog,” Blade told me. “That will put you in the small-town spirit.”
I took a bite. It was a good corndog. The salty meat and fried breading hit my bloodstream, and my spirits lifted.
“This is fine,” I said, taking another bite. “I’ll have a beautiful dress. It will be a quirky wedding. I’ll fix the weirdness in postproduction, maybe edit out some of the bows on the dresses. It will be fine.”
43
Blade
Avery didn’t seem all that happy about the engagement party, and I felt somewhat responsible. As much as Ida was out of the box, I was sure that she had organized a festival engagement party in part because I had an excessively large number of brothers, and said brothers were also ill behaved and half feral. I needed a way of making it up to Avery.
“Hey, Archer,” I said to my brother, leaving Avery to chat with her grandmother. “Don’t you have packages you can do at your hotel?”
“Packages?” He grinned. “Yours isn’t enough?”
I punched him in the arm. “I just want to do something nice for Avery since she had to put up with all of this.” I gestured to two of our brothers squabbling over a plate of onion rings.
Archer nodded thoughtfully. “I think I can put something together. One of my hotels was voted the number-one romantic getaway in America after all,” he bragged. “I’ll have the best romantic package in your room tonight.”
“Classy,” I reminded Archer. “It needs to be Instagram worthy.”
He gave me a thumbs-up then ambled off to a stand giving away deep-fried ice cream.
The music cut off, and Ida jumped up onto the makeshift stage.
“Dearly beloved,” she said as Art played a portable organ behind her. “We are gathered here today to celebrate the engagement of two of Harrogate’s finest—the future Mr. and Mrs. Svensson, ladies and gentlemen! Come on up to the front.” She gestured to us. “It is time for party games!”
Avery and I looked at each other apprehensively.
“Since we have so many people and many of them are deep in the sauce, we’ve organized a fun couple-oriented game for the audience’s amusement. Stand back to back.”
“I don’t like this,” Avery muttered as we positioned ourselves.
Ida handed us two giant inflatable baseball bats each. We each received one decorated with frilly lace, the other with a black felt tuxedo.
“We have a series of questions generated by the audience,” Ida said. “Blade and Avery, you have to raise a baseball bat for whomever this question applies to. We’ll know if you two are truly in love by whether or not you both answer the question the same way.”
Avery’s family had pushed their way to the front, and Garrett was watching intently. Did that man never take a break? The Schultzes were also watching in interest.Don’t screw this up.
“First question,” Ida said. “At the beginning of your relationship, who made the first move?”
I froze. Avery and I had a very hazy origin story. We’d never gotten into the specifics of who made the first move. However, we needed to have the same answer to these questions. I tried to think logically, knowing I had mere split seconds. Would people believe I had made the first move or Avery? And more importantly, which would Avery choose? Since I had technically made the first move in our newly sexual relationship, I raised the black bat with the tuxedo.
“And both of you say Blade made the first move. I wouldn’t expect anything less from a Svensson male considering how you all carry on. Next question: Who spends more money?”
It was an easy question, thankfully. I raised the groom bat. Avery must have done the same, because the crowd laughed.
“Who dresses better?”
I raised the bride bat. Avery must have raised the groom bat, because Ida remarked, “Yes, Avery, he does look like a snack in that suit, though I’m sure you’ve seen him in a lot less.”
