Page 75 of His Hot Mess

This reception, and the wedding, had been one for the memory books. Graydon had done an incredible job converting the barn to a gathering space with suspended plank wood flooring—perfect for dancing, as we’d see in a few minutes now that dinner was over. Round tables ringed the giant space, and the four of us at the head table (me, Lucy, Graydon, and Chris, in that order) got a stunning view from the newly widened barn opening opposite us of the gorgeous night spilling stardust into the room.

Everything about the wedding had been beautiful. The vows, the kiss, and more recently, Graydon’s and Lucy’s speeches. I was in relaxation mode now too, having just given my own speech ten minutes earlier. I’d told the story about how I’d helped Lucy win Graydon back with the help of a canoe and a crap-ton of fireworks hauled in the back of Chris’s truck.

There was a moment, in the middle of the speech, when I’d remembered that time with Chris, before we’d crossed any figurative lines. We were arguing about the order of the fireworks while we drove to the lake, me yelling at the back of Chris’s head while Lucy sat in the passenger seat reciting the words she’d say to Graydon to get him to forgive her for taking off on him.

It was the first time I’d met Chris and though we were arguing from the very beginning, I was instantly attracted to him in a big way. Somehow, back then, I’d squashed it down to focus on Lucy and Graydon.

So why had that been so hard this time?

Even though I lost my breath—stuttering, for a moment over the feeling of him, I managed to finish my speech, and to raucous applause. Casey came up to me afterward to say she’d never heard the whole story of the fireworks, but how touched she was that I’d been a part of her big brother’s fairytale romance story. We’d joked about how our annoying older siblings had finally, at long last, found love, and it couldn’t be more perfect.

“So, when’s it going to be our turn?” Casey said with a dramatic sigh. It was meant to be funny, but when I didn’t laugh, she immediately looked from me to Chris, at the other end of the table.

As Chris and I were seated on opposite ends of the newlyweds, we hadn’t talked all night. We hadn’t even been able to see each other, though I’d felt his presence like a burning star on the other side of my sister and her husband. I’d felt his eyes burning into my back during my speech too, especially during that part where I’d paused, lost in the memory of us.

I shook my head, unable to tell her with words my turn wasn’t anywhere near now.

Casey didn’t have time to say anything though, as the glass clinking and rapid shushing of the crowd had her running to take her seat.

This time, it was Chris who got up. He looked stiff. Awkward. Big, strong, and handsome as hell, but terrified too. He was nervous. Of course—a buttoned up guy like that would hate speaking in front of a crowd. He looked like he was heading to his own execution.

It would have been sweet if we were talking. If we were lovers. If we were together. I would have cheered him on. I would have winked at him as he made his way to the stage, blown him a kiss to let him know I was in his corner.

But we weren’t. And I wouldn’t. Instead, I sat back and folded my hands in my lap, gripping my fingers so tightly it almost hurt.

As he stood at the mic in front and to the right of our table, I fixed my eyes on his back; on his neatly combed hair and rugged profile. But as much as I wanted to keep the anger burning, my heart ached just to look at the man. I pitied the day I’d have to see him in the street. I was going to have to learn how not to turn into an ice statue every time he entered my range of vision.

I held my breath as he tapped the mic. What would Chris have to say about love?

“My name’s Christopher Slade,” he said, his voice ringing through the barn. I was surprised at the strength of it, the tenor. It wasn’t the voice of a man full of nerves. It was clear and strong and it strummed something low inside of me.

“I have the honor of introducing Mr. and Mrs. Graydon and Lucy Mitchell for their first dance.”

Disappointment washed over me, but only for a flash, as Lucy looked over at me and winked before she and Gray got up and stood together on the dance floor.

Charles Haverford’s son Mikey, who’d done such a great job DJ’ing my opening the other night, put on their wedding song: Percy Sledge’sWhen a Man Loves a Woman.I was mesmerized, my breath shaking through the whole beautiful thing. Lucy—and Graydon—were weepy, too.

When they came back to the table I got up to give Lucy and Graydon tearful hugs and then sat back in my chair. Chris hadn’t stepped down from the mic, so I assumed he would next announce that it was time for the dancing to begin. But instead, he turned around and looked at me.

My stomach swooped.

I glanced over at my sister, confused.

She just smiled innocently.

“Friends and family,” Chris began. “We’re here to celebrate the hot-off-the-press nuptials of Graydon and Lucy.”

There was a smattering of applause from the crowd and a man whooped from one of the tables near the end.

“I’m honored to be here as Graydon’s best man,” Chris continued, “and I could tell you a mildly embarrassing story about how Graydon went gaga the moment he saw his beloved Lucy at the house we all built together. But you’ve heard it before. Graydon won’t shut up about it. I mean, we’re here for it, right? But come on…”

The crowd laughed and cheered; hooted and whistled.

Chris cleared his throat and the room quieted again. “No, I’m here to do something a little unorthodox.”

This time the crowd went silent, everyone waiting with curious anticipation.

“I’m not sure if Lucy’s forgiven me for missing the rehearsal dinner…”

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