“I’m crying for Zoey,” I mutter back against his ear as I squeeze him with all my might. “I’m sad she gave up and settled for you.”
“That’s more like it,” he replies as he lets go of me, and we grin at each other. He grabs his own flute off a passing tray and walks back to Zoey.
After we all feast on a delicious catered meal, a DJ sets up in the corner and starts playing music. Jude and Zoey dance, and I feel the need to cry again. Winnie nudges me. “What’s with the damn water works?”
“This is a beautiful moment, Black Heart,” I snark back at her. “You know this should be making you want to finally tie the knot with Ty.”
I’m kind of joking, but as soon as I say it she looks serious. “Don’t do that. Don’t pressure me. I get enough of that from Ty.”
“I was kidding, Win,” I reply and reach over and grab her hand. She pulls it away and doesn’t look at me. Her eyes are on our dad, who is sitting at one of the small round tables set up around the yard with Declan asleep in his lap and our mom beside him.
“He’s not going to be able to walk us down the aisle,” Winnie whispers hoarsely. “He’s not going to be able to dance with us. He’s not going to see my kids.”
I reach over and wrap an arm around her, and this time she doesn’t push me away. She leans her head on my shoulder. “Jude is lucky. I know. But Win…you could marry Ty tomorrow. You know he would do it. And then Dad could wheel down the aisle with you, and he might not be able to dance with you, but he’d watch you dance and look as proud as he does now. And as for babies…we all know you don’t need a ring on your finger for that. Declan is proof.”
“I could do all of that,” she replies flatly. “But I would be doing it to create memories and they’d be false memories.”
“Why?”
“Because Ty and I aren’t Zoey and Jude,” she says and pulls away from me again. “We’re not soul mates. I want those memories with Dad so bad. I just don’t want them with Ty.”
I’m not surprised she doesn’t think Ty is her soul mate, but I am surprised she’s admitting it out loud. I’m trying to figure out how to respond when she gets up and walks away, rushing across the backyard and into the house. I stand up and start to follow her, but Jude steps in front of me. “Hey, Weepy. Come grab a drink with your legitimately hitched favorite brother.”
“Man, I hope Dixie marries Eli soon so I have better options for this Favorite Brother category,” I quip, and he gets me in a loose headlock as he barks out a fake laugh. “No wrestle mania at your wedding, douchebag.”
He lets me go, but I follow him to the bar in the corner anyway. Winnie needs a little time to herself right now and besides, the conversation I probably need to have with her—about finally calling time of death on her ten-year relationship—shouldn’t happen at Jude’s wedding. At the bar he orders two shots of Fireball, and my eyes grow wide. “Dear God, no.”
“For old times’ sake,” he says with a wicked grin and hands me one of the shots.
My stomach flips as soon as I smell it. “Why are you trying to make your sister puke at your wedding?”
“It’s not a party until someone pukes!” he exclaims in a high-pitched girly voice. He’s imitating me when I was seventeen and he got a call from one of his buddies that I was shitfaced at a house party. He showed up and dragged me out of there, and they snuck me into the house, past my mom who was watching a late-night talk show waiting up for me in the den like she always did, and then stayed up with me while I puked my guts out all night. I kept telling him it’s not a party until someone pukes, apparently. I honestly don’t remember a thing—except that I was drinking this cinnamon-flavored poison.
“I dare you,” he says and lifts his own shot glass toward mine. Fucker knows I never back down from a dare. I lift my glass to my lips, squeeze my eyes shut, pinch my nose, and swallow it down as fast as I can. My whole body shivers in protest, and I gag, but I keep it down.
When I open my watering eyes, Jude looks like he’s watching the best comedy show on the planet. “Do not make me flip you the middle finger on your wedding day in front of Pastor Quinlin.”
“So…” Jude says, taking a deep breath and looking out over the small crowd. “Can you believe this is my life?”
“Honestly?” I smile. “The minute I saw you react to the news Zoey was in town I knew we’d end up here. Eventually.”
“Liar.”
“No, seriously,” I argue back, and he turns to face me. “You heard us mention her and something about your whole face changed. That gross player face you had been wearing for like almost a decade morphed back into the sweet, kind, but inept dork capable of love.” He frowns, and it makes me laugh. “Truth hurts.”
“So who do you think is next?” he asks quietly as he turns back to the bartender and orders two beers.
“Out of us? I hope it’s Dix.” I shrug my shoulders, turning and putting down the shot glass. “I know they just started dating less than a year ago, but Eli’s the one for her. I know it and I know she does too.”
“Yeah. He is,” Jude agrees as the bartender hands him two Coronas and he waves off the glasses he tries to hand him. “She’s not that classy. Total bottle girl.”
I look at the bartender and wink. “I like to wrap my lips around the shaft.”
Jude groans and shudders. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“You started it.”
He sighs and sips his Corona, but when I go to lift mine to my mouth, he stops me and hands me one of the glasses on the bar. “Use this. I can’t…”
