Page 25 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Biker

The song ended. Another one started. We kept dancing.

"Hannah."

I turned.

Everett stood behind us, hands shoved in his pockets, tie loosened. He looked tired but grinned when he saw me.

"You made it," I said, pulling him into a hug.

"Barely. Wrapped up the meeting faster than I thought I could and drove straight through." He clapped Grim on the shoulder.

Grim's jaw tightened slightly, but he nodded.

Everett glanced between us. His grin faded.

"Can I talk to you?" he said to Grim.

"Yeah."

They stepped away from the dance floor, moving toward the shadowed edge of the lawn near the barn.

I stayed back, suddenly unsure.

Their voices carried faintly over the music. I didn't mean to eavesdrop. But I couldn't help catching fragments.

"...didn't ask you to get involved," Everett said.

Grim's response was quieter. I couldn't make it out.

"When I called you Friday morning, I asked you to keep her ex away." Everett's voice sharpened. "I didn't ask you to become the next man she has to get over."

My chest went cold.

"It's not like that," Grim said.

"Then what is it like?"

Silence.

"We should talk about this after the wedding," Grim said.

After.

Like this was something to postpone. To reconsider once the intensity of the weekend faded.

I turned and walked back toward the reception.

I found a table at the back and sat down, gripping my champagne glass tighter than necessary.

The band shifted into another slow song. Couples drifted onto the dance floor. I stared at the candle in the middle of my table and let Grim's line replay.

We should talk about this after the wedding.

Postponing. Deciding when we'd talk. Making a call about my situation without asking. He'd already promised in the barn yesterday that he was going to get better at that.

Then something else caught at me. Something Everett had said.

When I called you Friday morning.