We participated in group photos before the ceremony. Now the guys are having wedding portraits taken alone during the cocktail hour.
“You’re having fun,” I say, surprised.
Henry having fun at a party doesn’t happen. He hasn’t even pulled his fidget spinner out.
His lips curve.
“And sneaking off has nothing to do with getting away from the sounds and noise and overstimulation for a while?” I ask.
“Of course it does.” He offers me a heavy-lidded look that curls my pink-polished toes. “I prefer stimulation of a very different sort.”
I lean against him, grinning into my drink. He tightens his grip on my waist and raises his chin in greeting to a group of guests walking past us.
When I’ve finished my cocktail, he takes my empty glass, hands it off to a passing waiter, and checks his watch. “Let’s go.”
The limoncello has me warm and languid and almost giddy with excitement. Or maybe that’s just knowing what we’re going to do. Henry guides me through the cooler corridors, away from the crowd.
When we reach an unobtrusive wooden door, he draws me closer. “Laundry room,” he murmurs.
Henry produces a set of keys to unlock the door. It swings open, but we’re not greeted by a dark, empty room. Instead, a startled gasp reaches my ears. I stand frozen, a deer caught in headlights, at the sight that greets us.
“Ack,” Henry’s strangled voice wheezes out. “What the hell?”
Henry’s mother’s cheeks flush pink under her white-streaked golden hair as she stares back at us with round blue eyes.Charlotte and Arden are fully dressed, thank God, but Arden’s hands are firmly and decidedly on his wife’s ass, her arms are around his shoulders, and—
“You were making out in here,” Henry accuses.
“What exactly were you planning to do in this laundry room?” Arden asks, his steel-gray hair ruffled, and his expression so like Henry’s when he’s annoyed that it’s a little like getting a glimpse of thirty years into our future.
“You’re—” Henry cuts himself off abruptly.
“We’re notthatold,” his father says.
Henry closes his eyes briefly, shoring up his mental fortitude, then he backs up a step, pulling me with him, until the two of us are in the corridor once more. “Carry on.”
“Lock the door behind you,” Arden calls.
Beside me, expression stony, Henry locks the door, then takes my hand, guiding me away.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe your parents—”
Henry places a single finger on my lips. “We will never speak of this moment again.”
I rip his finger away. “Oh, yes, we will. This is gold.”
He sighs deeply.
“Your parents still love each other so much that they sneak off together. You’re lucky to have grown up with parents like that.” Maybe it’s the cocktail making me weepy, but I can’t help the sniffle that follows my words.
His eyes soften and turn introspective. “I am.”
He uses his thumb to wipe a tear from below my eye, then passes me another clean handkerchief from his pocket. “Okay, they stole our spot, but I know another one.”
Whenweunlockthedoor to the utility closet, we’re greeted by the sight of Henry’s sister’s bare legs framing her husband’s still-covered, thankfully, ass.
“You cannot be serious,” Henry snaps.
Dean jerks his face toward us with a scowl. “Out.”
