He orders and a minute later, hands me my drinks. “It’s on me,” he says with a wink.
“Thanks, man.”
I head back toward Stella who is laughing with a couple of women near our table. Did I meet them? I don’t even remember. I touch Stella’s arm and press the glass into her hand.
“Thank you.” She smiles at me.
“He’s a keeper,” one of the women remarks.
Hell yeah, I am.
When it’s time for the bride to toss her bouquet, Stella goes on alert. “Where’s Mom?”
I look around. “I think she was dancing. But I don’t see her.”
Stella scans the room as single ladies gather on the dance floor to catch the flowers. There are a few children here and they’re on the dance floor, too, dancing and spinning.
“Why aren’t you up there?” I ask Stella.
She gives me a look. “Please.”
Right. She doesn’t need a man.
“There you are!” Stella’s mom rushes up and grabs Stella’s arm. “Come on! Let’s go catch the bouquet!”
Oh.
Stella resists. “No, Mom. I don’t want to.”
“Yes, you do! It’s tradition. And you need a husband!”
But Stella won’t budge.
I smile at Cheryl. “She doesn’t want to. Let’s respect that.”
Cheryl gives me a baffled look. Stella shoots me a look of gratitude.
I clear my throat.
The DJ booms, “Last call for catching the bouquet! Who wants to be the next bride?”
“Fine.” Cheryl spins on a heel and stalks off to join the others on the dance floor.
“What was that about?” I murmur in Stella’s ear.
Her mouth compresses. “I don’t want to catch the bouquet. I don’t want to be the next one to get married.”
Oh right.
“And I definitely don’t want to be like my mom… desperate and needy.”
I get that. But I feel like there’s a whole lot of… more behind those words.
Meredith makes a show of warming up her throwing muscles, and then she turns her back to the women on the dance floor, winds up, and launches her flowers into the air.
“Good arm,” I murmur.
There’s a scuffle as women try to grab the bouquet. And then a little boy emerges from the pack, holding the flowers aloft. He takes off at a run, brandishing the bouquet.