Page 33 of Best Served Cold

I glare at him. “Howdareyou. First you crashed my wedding, and now you’re telling me how to?—”

I catch myself before I can sayparent my cousin, because he might have a point.

He arches his brows, giving me a slow smile I find infuriating, even if I have the impulse to trace the curve of it with my finger.

Oh, no.

I’d better get up and go to the bathroom. Maybe if I study that poster of Jonah, I’ll see the resemblance between the two of them, and this madness will stop. I start to get up but move too fast and tumble off my stool, landing in a pile of lace skirts.

“Oh no, bride down!” someone calls out. “Bride down!”

They must have a protocol for drunk women in wedding dresses, because a woman is rushing toward me with a tall glass of water and what look like smelling salts before I can even get my bearings. Then Rob appears, leaning down and helping me to my feet, his hand so strong and warm—who knew a hand could feel strong?

“Are you okay?” Hannah asks, nearly her whole body stretched over the bar for prime rubbernecking.

“I’m okay, just a little woozy,” I insist, mortified, because now everyone reallyiswatching me. Including Otis, whose eyes are so wide and dilated I have to assume he not only has special gummies but ate one before we got in the car.

“Want me to take you outside for some fresh air?” Rob asks.

I’m embarrassed again, but not too embarrassed to agree. Fresh air sounds not only good but necessary right now.

“Yeah,” I say, “that’s a good idea.”

The bartender gives me a dubious look, like she’s afraid I’ll vomit on the nicely polished wooden bar. The thought makes me a little nauseous, actually, so when Rob leads me to the back door, I’m relieved.

He opens it for me, and I step out into the warm night, stars speckling the sky above us. There’s an expansive sitting area out here, with long wooden picnic tables. Farther back, there’s a firepit with two empty Adirondack chairs next to it. There’s no fire in the pit, probably because it feels like the inside of Satan’s mouth out here—humid and hot and kind of dank—but the tables are packed with people.

I walk past them with purpose, needing to sit and wanting one of those empty chairs. I don’t look back to see if Rob joins me. I’m not sure whether I want him to.

He follows me, though, and I hear a couple of people greeting him. A few others comment on my dress, but I ignore their murmurs. Even though it’s not negative attention, I feel self-conscious. A bride without a groom is a curiosity. A question to be answered.

I lower into one of the Adirondack chairs, which is much less comfortable than I’d hoped. My head tips upward, and I sigh with pleasure. The night sky is even prettier from this vantagepoint, away from the fairy lights brightening up the back of the brewery. It’s a velvet canvas stippled with glowing dots.

“The stars are so pretty tonight,” I say.

“Let me guess, you like wishing upon a star, Sophie?” Rob asks as he sits next to me. His voice is teasing, as usual, but it’s not condescending this time.

“I do,” I admit. “You never know.”

“What would you wish for tonight?” he asks. My gaze moves to him, taking in the gleam of his eyes in the night.

Awareness rocks through me. It’s the way he’s sitting in his chair, as if he’s prepared to leap up at a moment’s notice if I’m actually sick or need his help.

I swallow a ball of emotion, deciding to actually consider his question. There’s a drone of conversation from the people at the tables, but we’re distant enough that only occasional words drift through the mass of speech.Tree. Dress. Herpes. Mushroom.

“Something happened to me,” I finally say, concentrating on his face to let the rest of those people fade into the background. “When I was sixteen. It was something I did…”

I pause, almost hoping he’ll say something. Maybe hoping he’ll stop me. He doesn’t. His expression is thoughtful and intent. “Does Jonah know?”

I shake my head slowly. “Only that my parents don’t really talk to me. I’ve spent my entire adult life trying to make up for it. But you can’t rewind the clock, no matter how hard you try. Other than Otis and Aunt Penny, the people in my family all see me as the girl I was at sixteen. If I could wish for anything, it would be to reverse what I did.”

He watches me intently. “I have to say, that’s not very Pollyanna of you, Sophie.”

I shake my head, feeling a surge of bitterness. “Because that’s not who I am.”

I turn to leave, but he gets to his feet and captures my arm, his fingers callused and strong. A gasp escapes me, although he didn’t grab me hard. I could easily escape if I wanted to.

I meet his eyes, surprised by the intensity of his gaze.

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