Page 23 of The Wedding Crush

“It was nothing.” Avery waves off the question.

I flash her a small smile when she glances in my direction, the temptation to unfasten more than just my top shirt button increasing exponentially.

But she doesn’t circle back to her point.

In fact, no one says anything for a beat.

Fifteen minutes go by as we go back to stuffing tortellini and bread in our mouths and washing it down with wine.

It’s only when Morgan stacks her and Dante’s plates to the side that I assume we’ll circle back to the subject at hand. Maybe get to the real reason—beyond our age difference—that Avery and I can’t be around each other two minutes before we clash. Maybe shed some light on why she can’t get past the hoax or why she’s only Pollyanna with everyone else.

Except, it’s Dante who intertwines their fingers and meets our stares.

“Babe?” He gives Morgan the floor.

Nerves smooth the lines of her face as she sinks her fingers into her dark textured curls.

“We’d love for you to be our best man and maid of honor.”

Avery gasps, pushing to her feet to walk around and hug Morgan. They squeal and fall into a tight hug with Morgan confessing that this past Tuesday, she’d already asked their friends to be bridesmaids.

I’d love to say I sprang to my feet to do the same with my brother.

I can’t though.

Instead of laughing and screeching with them as they veer off into plans for “a dreamy outdoor wedding on the vineyard…” I’m fixated on the rest of that sentence.

“In September,” she says.

As in less than three months from now?

Dante rounds the table, tapping my shoulder and snapping me to.

“So, what do you say? You down to be my best man?”

I push to my feet, forcing a smile. “You bet—” I break off.

But he must sense the question in the lingering silence. He scratches his scalp, reluctantly tipping his chin to me.

“Next September, right?” I ask.

The women slowly turn to us, quietly assessing the situation before Morgan winces. It doesn’t surprise me when Avery links hands with Morgan.

Friendship and loyalty.

She’s the supportive best friend with no words of wisdom. Nothing to say. No sage wedding planner or friendly advice. Just leap and hope you fly, huh?

No help.

“So, it’s safe to say there’s no reasoning with you about a longer engagement.” I nod, weighing how much I want to say. Then I figure, what the heck? “Not even a year? Seriously, why the rush?”

Avery comes to their defense.

“Because they’re in love and nothing in life is guaranteed. I don’t know, maybe because it’s their decision. Or because they know if they wanted to get married tomorrow, I’ll support them.”

She reaches across the table, grabbing her glass and polishing off the remains of her wine.

“Of course, you would.” I poke my tongue in my cheek, fed up with her little digs. “Life is nothing but a series of parties for you, right, Pollyanna?”

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