I barely made it past the hostess stand before a blur of floral print collided with me. Holly, bride-to-be and my lifelong partner in chaos, grinned after swallowing a mouthful of shrimp cocktail.
“Brynn! You made it!” she shrieked, shoving a skewer of something unidentifiable into my hand.
I chewed, hoping for the best. “Is this… calamari?”
Holly shrugged. “I think so. Josh’s family is super into ‘authentic coastal cuisine.’” She used air quotes and eyed my outfit. “You look amazing! Is that the Atlanta breakup dress?”
I coughed. “Mymoving on with my lifedress, but yes.”
Holly leaned in. “Good woman! Try the Tidal Hops IPA. It’s pretty damn good. I’ve had two glasses.”
“Never would have guessed. Where’s the clan?”
She nodded toward the bar. “Mom’s making the rounds. Josh is getting a hops tutorial from the owner. Uh-oh. Here comes trouble.”
The warning came too late. Aunt Carol, her brown-gray hair helmeted against the humidity, advanced with a man my age in a blue polo, trailing her like a remora. My soul tried to leave my body.
“Oh, look at that!” Holly chirped, already scurrying away. “So many bride things to do. See you later!”
“Brynn, darling!” Aunt Carol sing-songed, seizing my elbow with the triumphant air of a dog show handler. “Todd, this is my niece. You remember Todd, don’t you, Brynn? My neighbor’s son?”
It wasn’t hard to recognize Todd. He was my age—twenty-nine—but he never changed. Average height, average build, average everything. He’d worked at a big-box electronics store for years.
“Hey, Brynn.” His handshake was wet and limp. “Wow, you look exactly like your Facebook picture.”
“Thanks, I guess?” I tried to pull my hand back, but he held on.
“Todd was just saying how he’s always wanted to seethe Keys,” Aunt Carol continued conspiratorially. “And it’s so much more fun with someone who knows her way around. So I convinced him to tag along with me!”
“Dove Key is fascinating.” Todd launched into a rapid-fire monologue about it, a firehose of unsolicited facts. Then he jerked a thumb at the speakers pumping out Jimmy Buffett and sounding wonderful. “The midrange is totally blunted. If they upgraded the mixer, the whole vibe would change.”
“Oh, okay.” I had no idea how to respond to that. He couldn’t be trying to flirt, could he?
Aunt Carol beamed as if he’d just solved world hunger. “Isn’t he smart?”
“By the way, I’m in Room 217, right next to yours,” Todd added. “I brought my Fire Stick—I can reprogram it for premium channels and install a Wi-Fi range extender for you. The repeaters are on the wrong side for your room’s western exposure.”
Jeeezus.
He smiled, oblivious, and handed me a business card with a QR code. “I made these for networking, but they’re multipurpose. I’ll be your date for the weekend. If you get bored, just knock.”
It was the saddest thing I’d ever been handed.
“I don’t want to hover, so you kids have fun,” Aunt Carol said, squeezing my shoulder. “Brynn, dear, don’t let Todd hog the karaoke mic this time!”
Red flamed across Todd’s face. “I got banned from the last holiday party for doing ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ in its entirety. That song must be respected.”
I made a noise that was half laugh, half choke. “Excuse me. I need a refill.”
I fled to the bar, my hands shaking sobadly it took me three tries to get the bartender’s attention. He had an easy grin and light-brown hair escaping from under a Tidal Hops baseball cap. “You look like you need a drink. What can I get for you?”
“Whatever tropical IPA you have,” I managed.
He slid a frosty glass across the bar. “Our Sunset Ale. My personal favorite.”
I clung to the cold glass, letting it leech the panic from my bloodstream, and took a long, desperate gulp. The beer was crisp and citrusy, with a perfect bitter kick at the end. “Damn. That’s really good.”
The bartender’s grin widened. “Thanks. I’m Braden Coleridge, by the way. The brewmaster.”
