Page 59 of Everything But Mine

The music drowns the room, a rhythm with a syncopated pulse made for holding someone close. Fairy lights and the natural glow of the lakeside sun highlight the bride and groom’s love as they move, wrapped in each other. There’s an intimacy between Keith, my half brother, and his bride, Cece. He holds her tightly, with the care you’d give to something rare, and everyone melts for them. I don’t. Not for Keith.

Amanda is seated beside me, so close that I can feel the warmth of her arm through my sleeve while she sways, mouthing the lyrics like her body knows the ins and outs of the song. I melt for her.

I lean in and listen to her sing about timing. About how it isn’t just luck, but something you create and tend to because people arrive in your life whenever, and it is up to you to keep them. She bumps my shoulder in an invitation to rock with her. As we sway, I tell myself I’m keeping her this time around.

She’s wearing an indigo dress that matches my tie, and she’s been saying things all day like, “Yes, I brought Eric,” “We came together,” and “Yes, I moved in with him.” Her forearms prickle with awareness as I watch her, not them.

With the loud applause, I bring my eyes back to Keith. My brother twirls his bride with the carelessness of a man who’s never broken anything he can’t replace. The crowd is eating it up, and I used to hate how he always gets people to see that good in him. Now, I think I just hate that I’ve shown the worst of me to the first person who believed I could do better.

Looking away, my gaze runs straight into Daray’s. His brown eyes burn with coal-dark anger, eager to slice a pound of flesh. I wrap my arm around Amanda’s shoulders, as she chats with the Bennett twins across the table. She shifts closer, and Daray’s eyes narrow at the corners, realizing that, at some point, my touch has become natural to her.

Game on, fuckhead.

After the dance, waiters serve wine and appetizers. Amanda gets strange looks when she sticks with water, but no one says anything. Diego rejoins our table after finishing up his official MC duties.

“That was a great song choice, Diego!” Amanda compliments him.

“It wasn’t easy.” He laughs and leans over, close enough that his side brushes against Val’s chest so he can whisper for our ears only. Her breath hitches. “The bride wanted that bachata about eating pussy.”

I choke on my drink, and so does Val. Diego rushes to help her clean the red liquid. Amanda rubs her hand against my back, smiling.

“Yeah,” she says. “Very romantic. That would have been good too!”

“Mandy,” Diego says in all seriousness. “You can’t have a song about eating pussy for your first dance as Mr. and Mrs. It’s tacky.”

“Only for someone as sensitive as you,” I say.

“Yes,” Amanda adds. “It’s a good omen. Probably not for you, Diego.”

I nod solemnly. “That’s right. It’s not like he gets any action.”

Val’s catching on now. “Maybe he’s insecure about his skills.”

Diego’s expression is relaxed, mouth open, but amused. “Ask Val tomorrow, guys. I’ll show her insecure⁠—”

“Hey,” the Bennett twins interrupt at the same time. They’re identical, and few people can tell them apart. Keith calls them Thing 1 and Thing 2. “Can you stop talking about pussy?” Laura—I think—flicks her braid.

“Please,” Lorena—I’m pretty sure—pushes up her glasses.

“We’ve seen both of you covered in zits, lanky, and teenagery,” Laura adds. “Whatever Diego does… We don’t want to know.” Her eyes drop to the table, where my hand and Amanda’s touch as I twirl my wine glass—the self-imposed one of two for the night. Lorena’s squeeze on her shoulder keeps her from asking if Amanda and I are together.

Before the entrees are cleared, they’re on the second bottle of wine at the table, Diego pouring liberally, Val is mock-scolding him, and everyone is loose. Diego and his closest sister talk over each other, and we’re all laughing at shared memories.

“You’re telling me no one noticed the giant scary animal with claws?” Martina, Diego’s youngest sister, speaks into her glass. She’s gesturing so much that every single one of her curls bounces. “We heard the garbage cans rattling.”

“Because we were inside vomiting!” Diego shoots back.

“That’s right!” Andrzej cuts in, his long finger stretched at Martina. “From your ceviche, if I may add!”

“Oh my god, that summer.” Amanda laughs so hard she knocks her knee into mine. I press back just slightly, and she doesn’t move away.

Val is quiet, watching. For once, she seems amused, not like she’s trying to find everyone’s trauma and create their treatment plan. “What were you doing, Eric?” she asks.

“I don’t eat suspicious seafood.” I hold my hands up. “Slept through it all. I told you guys the shrimp didn’t smell right and would kill someone.”

“You told us everything was trying to kill us back then.” Diego grins. “The air conditioner, sand, spiders…”

“Okay, the spider thing was valid,” Martina mutters.