Page 97 of I Think They Love You

“Kami,sweetie!”

Emily Sedwick, looking like an Amy Adams Disney princess in an off-the-shoulder, tear-drop-blue ball gown, approaches. Her gold hair is spun up with flowers. She squeezes Kami’s hands like she’s being chased by an evil witch—or a rabid future mother-in-law.

“Save me,” Emily pleads theatrically. “Work your magic.”

To her credit, Kami’s smile doesn’t falter. She goes full event manager mode, beelining through the crowd with Emily in tow.

Denz is praying for whoever crosses her tonight.

Someone at the head table clinks a fork against a champagne flute.

“Maybe we should,” Braylon says, minty breath brushing Denz’s cheek, “find our seats?”

“And a lot of alcohol,” Denz advises.

Kami has arranged a table for just the three of them. Far from the aunties and uncles and their dad. His sister works in mysterious, benevolent ways.

When the speeches start, it’s very apparent the booze was flowing long before the Sedwicks arrived.

Mr. Sedwick jokingly recounts threatening Warner’s lifeduring their first meeting. Mrs. Sedwick dedicates her three minutes to a dead relative, which leaves everyone cringing. Taylor and Madisen regale the guests with their own engagement party stories before breaking into an off-key rendition of “I Say a Little Prayer.” It’s all downhill from there. Denz orders two lemon drop martinis just to survive.

Halfway through a story from Warner’s fourth-grade teacher, Denz pokes Kami’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you think the aunties had anything to do with our event assignments?” As Kami’s confused eyebrows lift, Denz adds quietly, “Think about it. You got anengagement partyeven though they love to bring up what happened with Matthew. And Valentine’s Day went to me, the one who’s never had a man they approved of.”

“They like Braylon.”

Denz shoots her ado they really?look.

She snorts. “It’s a coincidence.”

“It’s aconspiracy.”

“You’re giving them far too much credit.”

“Whatever,” Denz grumbles. He’s not sure if it’s the sweetly romantic ambiance. Or maybe the alcohol. Whatever it is, his next question comes in a nervous whisper: “Did you ever, like, picture yourself at one of these things?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know.” He does but is too embarrassed to say it. “If you had one of these parties for yourself, what would it be like?”

Kami thinks. “Hypothetically?”

“The most hypothetic of hypotheticals.”

“I’d want simple. Nothing like this. More…personal.” He can tell she’s imagining it. Her eyes sparkle as she says, “Mikah’s favorite mini cheesecakes. A live band playing the songs me and my fiancé fell in love to. No speeches because, hello, have you metour family?”

Denz bites his knuckles to stifle a laugh.

“I’d want Nic to recite a poem I wrote for him,” Kami goes on. “We’d be somewhere intimate and comfy, like Mom and Dad’s backyard.”

Denz smiles harder.

Kami’s eyes flick to a tipsy Emily. “And I’d wear something less…”

“Flashy?”

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