Katie laughed and took a sturdy gulp of her wine. She’d been up to see the folly in the afternoon and was cautiously won over by the “fairy-tale grotto” appeal of it. It was still a big change from what she’d originally planned, and she wasn’t entirely confident she could risk being happy about it yet.
“I still think we should postpone the wedding,” Sheila said darkly from her seat at her son’s elbow. “So many things have gone wrong. It’s like a sign.”
While Bradley hushed his mother, Katie took a deep breath and another sip of wine.
“I know. God, I just hope nobody blows off a cliff tomorrow,” Katie said through tight, bright pink lips. “That would really dampen everyone’s spirits.”
Sheila narrowed her eyes and pressed her lips together in a tight, unhappy line, and the main course came out in the middle of it all as Granshire servers in fitted black delivered orders of coffee-grilled steak, pecan-crusted chicken, and risotto. There were other vegetarian options, but apparently Sheila actually wanted risotto.
Max slid her plate onto the table in front of her with a most charming smile.
“A special dish for a special lady,” he said. “I hope you enjoy.”
It didn’t work on Sheila, any more than it had worked on Max’s own mother. She poked at the risotto with her fork, regarded the mixture of rice and pomegranate with pursed lips, and put it back on the plate. “It’s a bit wet,” she said. “But that’s fine.”
While Max argued that he could definitely get her a much better risotto, Nate turned back to Katie. She pulled a face and vengefully sawed a chunk off her pecan chicken.
“It’ll be fine,” Nate mouthed to her.
Katie rolled her eyes, but relaxed her fingers on the knife. She lifted the piece of chicken off her plate and then put it back down as her eyes shifted to focus over Nate’s shoulder.
“Oh!” she said. A pleased smile folded her mouth, and she raised her free hand in a wave. “I thought you said he couldn’t make it?”
Nate twisted around in his seat. He knew who he was going to see, but he wasn’t sure why. Flynn was slouched against the door of the hall in old jeans and a black leather jacket, his hands shoved into the pockets.
“Umm… I didn’t think he could,” Nate said. He scooted the chair back from the table. “Maybe something came up. Excuse me for a minute.”
He got up and headed across the floor. Flynn watched him weave through the tables and then pushed himself off the doorframe so he could meet him halfway.
“Flynn? What are you doing here?” Nate asked.
“Just here to wish the happy couple the best,” Flynn said. His mouth tilted up at the corner in a hard smile, and he reached out to tug Nate’s jacket straight. “Support my boyfriend.”
Nate couldn’t resist the lure of that drawled word. Despite everything he’d said to… basically everyone… it felt good to have someone call him that. To haveFlynncall him that. Of course, he didn’t know if Flynn meant it or if he was just playing his part.
“This isn’t the place—”
Flynn twisted his hand in Nate’s lapel and tugged him in close enough that Nate could feel the heat of his body. He quietly asked, “Why not? The audience not big enough?”
Instead of giving Nate a chance to answer, he yanked him even closer and kissed him. It was hard and impatient, almost angry, with roughly mashed lips and the sharp-sour taste of whiskey on Flynn’s breath. A murmur rippled through the background noise of the hall as people reacted with a mixture of disapproving mutters, gasps, and the scrape of chair legs as they turned to gawk.
It should have pissed Nate off—itdid—but it still made hunger twist in his balls. His breath was sticky in his throat.
Flynn leaned back. He licked his lips and looked almost regretful for a second. But it passed quickly, and he smirked instead. He straightened Nate’s jacket for him with a tug and brushed his shoulders off.
“There you go,” he said. “Now everyone knows who you’ve been doing.”
Nate quickly glanced around. It wasn’t like everyone was staring at them, but Nate cringed with self-consciousness at those who were. It felt like they were all waiting for him to do something so they could either clap or boo.
“What the hell?” he said as he tried to ignore them. “Flynn, this is my job. It’s not the place—”
Flynn shrugged. “Afraid Teddy won’t approve?”
“Yes,” Nate said. “He’s myemployer.He pays me.”
“Yeah, well.” Flynn leaned over one of the tables, winked, and grabbed a bottle of wine. He smirked and raised it to his mouth. “Teddy pays everyone. Welcome to Ceremony, where the St. Johns own our asses.”
He took a swig of wine. Nate grabbed his arm and dragged him back the way he’d come. He shoved him out through the lobby doors, nearly knocking over a tipsy bridesmaid on her way in. Flynn scuffed his feet over the tiled floor and took another swig of wine straight from the bottle.
