“Sampsonite,” I say with a laugh. “Remember? We both thought of that scene fromDumb and Dumber?”
“That’s right,” he says, looking at me like we’re the only two people at this table. Like this story is the only one he wants to tell. “Anyway, theSampsonitesweren’t there and we just kind of looked at each other, like, hey, if they aren’t here, maybe we are.”
“And we were,” I say.
“We were,” he echoes, holding my gaze in a way I feel all over my body. “Then we had our reception in the janitor’s closet.”
“Reception?” I ask through a slight laugh. “That’s what you call it?” Because what really happened was we found the first door that would open, and Nash banged me until I could barely walk.
“You know what that look means,” Sunny calls, glass raised. “Dirty little white girl.”
Jonathan booms out a laugh, reminding me he’s there. “You got married because someone didn’t show up?” His head drops back with how hysterical this is. “That explains everything.”
My teeth grind.
Nash lifts his beer and says, “We can’t all pull off an engagement that ends without a wedding.”
Cap howls till he wheezes at this, and Jonathan looks at him with concern. “You should get that cough checked out. Rue and I are getting married at a vineyard next month.” I want to whack him over the head with Cap’s cane. “You should come.”
“We aren’t getting married,” I remind him in a whisper. “Are you not listening?”
“That’s just the stress,” he says. “When we get back to Fo?—”
“It isn’t,” I argue, quiet as I can.
“Sounds hot,” Sunny says, fanning herself with a menu. “And buggy.” She eyes his suit. “I bet bugs eat yo’ skinny ass alive. Whatchu do to stay so skinny? You scared a meat?”
“I’m a cyclist.” He says it so arrogantly that I cringe for him. Sober Jonathan is such a good man, but the one next to me is the absolute worst. “Thirty miles every weekend.”
I do not look at Nash, whose smirk I can both picture and feel under my skin.
“Mmm-hmm,” Sunny says, judgy. “I bet.”
Cap redirects, asking, “What if Rue finds the gold?”
Jonathan laughs—the only one at the table to do so—until he realizes Cap’s serious. “I guess we’ll see if that happens.”
“Never heard of a man not believing in the woman he’s trying to force to marry him,” Cap says. “You, Nash?”
“Nope,” Nash says, popping hisp. “Especially when she’s already married to a man who thinks she can do anything she wants.” I glare at him; he doesn’t placate me. “Not my fault I believe in you and this asshole doesn’t.”
“Let’s not do this,” I say.
“Asshole?” Jonathan laughs, loud.Tooloud. “I didn’t say I don’t believe in her,” he argues. “Just—a treasure?” He looks at me likeCome on.
Cap grunts. “What’s so bad about treasure?”
“Maybe we sho?—”
“There’s nothingbadabout it,” Jonathan argues, elbows on the table so he’s in the same shape as Nash, albeit much droopier. Like a spaghetti noodle that spent too long in the pot. “It’s great for a hobby. For something fun to do. But to bet your life on it?” He scoffs. “If archeologists can’t find it, how can an antique seller, some rogue traveling substitute teacher, and a man in a sailor costume?”
“I’m a captain!” Cap booms out, silencing the tables around us.
“Dad, please.” This is a wildfire that can’t be contained. “He’s right, it’s ridiculous. Can we talk about something else? Sunny?”My eyes plead with hers and she purses her lips. “Tell Jonathan about your dancing. Or the history of the Gullah community.”
“Hell naw.” Her nostrils flare. “This drunk told me I need to floss, I ain’t telling him about where I came from. Nash, you tell that story about the Sword Gate House you love so much.”
Sunny dumps the rest of her drink down her throat then pins Jonathan with a scary look.
