Page 27 of My Stepbrother's Wedding
I nodded. “I do. Never tried anything like it.”
She set the bottle next to me with a smile and went to dance. I greedily downed another cup. Mushti was by far the best drink I’d had in Europe. A moment later I felt a sudden urge to party and joined the others in the circle. The Malegonians laughed as I danced with them, kicking awkwardly along to the beat of the music.
“Bravo!”
“Opa!”
I basked in the lighthearted celebration and laughed as our hosts encouraged me. Finally I was catching onto the Malegonian vibe. Enjoy yourself, dance, eat, party all night. What could be better?
After a few minutes of revelry, Irena disappeared into the backroom.
“Where’s she going?” I asked Mira.
“To put on the white dress. Our traditions say the bride must do one dance in the white dress on the day before the final celebration. We get a glimpse of how beautiful she will be tomorrow.”
I nodded, a dumb smile drifting across my face. I snagged my drink when the circle returned to my table and downed another quick glass of mushti. Across the room Sergio kicked his feet to the music. His eyes drifted up toward mine. I flashed him a welcoming smile. He met my smile with his own. I thought his cheeks flushed, but he turned his head and stayed focused on his foot movements. Was he checking me out? Maybe. I felt a rush of excitement and let my eyes drift back to him, less guarded than before. He didn’t look back, but I sensed he wanted to.Come on, Sergio. Look back!
Irena reemerged as the music stopped between songs, wearing her stunning white dress. She seemed to radiate a feminine glow, like a real-life Disney princess. The room clapped as she joined the dance circle. The Malegonians raised their cups and cheered her arrival. Those on their feet rushed to kiss her cheeks and lump praises on her. I poured another glass of mushti and followed suit, raising my drink and stepping forward to add my germs to the fanfare. The bride leaned in to accept my two-cheek kiss.
An ear-shattering scream erupted.
The music stopped. A general gasp ensued. Irena’s mother, Miranda, let out a panicky series of shrieks, like her clothes had just caught on fire. I startled back, confused, to discoverthe bride’s pristine white dress was covered in bright-red mushti. A look of terror welled in Irena’s eyes. Bystanders tried to pat away the stain. Every eye in the room locked on me. I glanced down at my glass. It was empty.
The party devolved into a frenzy of shouting. Irena fled the room, followed by the women. My face burned with shame as I realized I’d just ruined her dress. My pulse raced, and my hands shook. What had I done?
Chapter 11
Icurled up on the white tile floor, resting my forehead on the toilet bowl to relieve the pounding. How was I supposed to know mushti was loaded with alcohol? You couldn’t taste it at all. I fought off another dry heave and tried to fall asleep. My earlier euphoria had transitioned into a hangover the moment I’d destroyed Irena’s dress. Mira had been merciful enough to drop me off at the villa. I had a sneaking suspicion the other Malegonians were considering some type of medieval torture if I stayed another moment at the party.
As terrible as my body ached, the shame hurt worse. I’d made a complete fool of myself and caused another crisis on a trip that had already been plagued with misfortune. I replayed the shocked expressions of everyone at the party in my mind as I sobbed into my arm. At least I’d never have to worry about them trying to marry me off again.
***
Morning sunlight woke me. Apparently I’d staggered to my bed sometime during the night, although I’d not managed to get out of my clothes or under the covers. My head still ached, and my stomach turned. I rummaged through my suitcase for a bottle of Advil and downed three capsules. The pain might fade, but how would I ever live down the spectacle from the previous evening? I’d become a human dumpster fire.
After a shower and change of clothes, I made my way downstairs for breakfast. Dad and Elizabeth were already there, sipping tiny espresso cups and finishing the last morsels of their meal. Dad clenched his teeth when he saw me, and Elizabeth sighed. I lowered my head and sheepishly pulled up a seat at the table.
“Morning, Winifred,” Dad said in a voice that oozed disappointment.
“Morning,” I said, just above a whisper. We sat in awkward silence for a moment. A waiter brought me a plate of eggs and toast. I prodded it regretfully with my fork, too humiliated to say anything.
Elizabeth rubbed her forehead and broke the silence. “We need to be at the church before noon for the reception.”
“Did they find a new dress?” I asked.
“Fortunately, yes,” she said. “Irena’s family called the bridal shop owner and got him to come in after hours.”
“And I had to volunteer another small fortune to pay for it,” Dad said. “I’ve spent so much money on this trip, the bank just froze my card. I got a message saying my transactions looked suspicious, and I’d need to call during business hours to get my account unfrozen.”
I clenched my teeth, wanting to snap at Dad for caring more about money than his own daughter, but I had no right to act defensively. This fiasco was my fault. I took an anxious breath. “I’m sorry. It was an accident.”
“Don’t apologize to us,” Dad said. “Apologize to your stepbrother and Irena. I never thought you’d get drunk at the wedding and do something that clumsy.”
“I didn’t know that drink had alcohol in it.” I tried to sound unshaken, but my voice gave my emotions away. Tears formed in my eyes.
Dad shook his head and didn’t speak for a moment. “Elizabeth, dear, could you give me a moment with my daughter?”
“Now, Ralph, there’s noneed—”
