Claire and Dean had decided on a three-tiered, purple-tinted vanilla and coconut cake, but they went with what Maggie called naked frosting. To Maggie, that meant she used the barest amount of icing, leaving the purple cake tiers exposed. To Brek that meant…well, he’d illustrated for Velma exactly what he thought that meant. It didn’t take much imagination.
There was no smashing of the cake in faces—just a playful attempt by Claire. Their mother wasn’t amused.
“Velvet?”
Her cousin Lance stood behind her—a sweet still-sort-of-teenager who had passed the awkward preteen stage and was becoming a man. “Lance.”
She stood to give him a hug. “I missed you at the receiving line. Pops said you brought a girlfriend with you?”
His cheeks turned red. “Everyone’s talking about it, huh?”
“So far the verdict is that everyone likes her.” Velma squeezed his shoulder.
“You’re with the biker guy?” he asked.
“I am.” She pinched a smile. Not that anyone would possibly know they were together, given he hadn’t spoken to her. He’d disappeared when the band had started to play.
“I don’t like him.” Lance pulled a face.
Velma scowled at her cousin. “Why not?”
“Because you’re sad and he hasn’t done anything to fix that.” Lance was sweet, she’d give him that.
“It’s not his fault. He’s busy with the wedding.” She swallowed the thick lump of emotions that threatened to spill.
“Well, I came over here to see if you’ll dance with me.” He held his palm out to her. “What do you say?”
Getting her groove on wasn’t in the cards while things were so messy with Brek. “I’m not feeling much like—”
A glass clinking over the loudspeaker drew her attention to the stage.
Brek stood under the floodlights in a patch of bright white among a sea of purple. A flute of champagne gripped in his hand, he raised it to where Claire and Dean stood on the dance floor.
Velma’s breath dissolved in her lungs at the sight of Brek. Onstage. In his element.
She loved that man.
A waiter brought the bride and groom champagne. Brek kept his focus on them, not once glancing her way.
“I first met Dean in the hallway outside Mrs. Haulman’s ninth-grade Greek literature class,” he began. “Jase, Eli, and I were headed to learn aboutThe Odyssey. Dean was about to get his ass kicked by a couple of football players.” Brek scratched at his temple as the crowd laughed. Velma swallowed back an onslaught of tears, absorbing everything Brek. “I think it’s fair to say that we never expected Dean to find a girl like Claire—not everyone is lucky enough to find their other half, but when you do, you hang on tight.” He tossed a sincere smile to Dean and Claire. “Congrats, you two.”
He raised his glass, and the room met his gesture…everyone except Velma, who couldn’t seem to move.
“Velma?” Heather caught her arm. “We need to help Claire change out of her dress.”
Velma shrugged at Lance. “Duty calls. Rain check?”
“Absolutely.” He hugged her again. “Find your smile, Velvet.”
By the time the bride and groom were ready to leave under handfuls of purple rose petals, Velma’s eyelids seemed to have weights attached to them.
Dean stopped her at the exit where he and Claire waited for their cue. “Brek’ll come around.”
She gave a little nod, biting her lip. Of course he would, he was Brek. Her Brek.
Claire set her hands on Velma’s shoulders and looked her square in the eye. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Velma assured her, but the words sounded weak even to her own ears.
