Page 46 of Holiday Wedding
Dean’s raised voice finally penetrates my overly excited brain. I had already been awarding myself a Pulitzer Prize for solving the case.
“Yeah?” I deliberately slow down my thoughts so I can listen.
“It’s not her.” He chews on the inside of his cheek. “I checked. The photos are shot during times when I can confirm that Lola’s in other places. Earlierthis week one picture was taken when she was at a premiere here in town, and another was taken when she was doing an interview.” He shows me the images and his phone and the corresponding articles.
“No, that can’t be correct,” I say, fighting back but with less bluster. I had been so sure, but now doubt creeps in.
“Sorry, but…” Dean’s whole hand is on my knee this time, stopping my leg from jiggling. “It’s not her.”
I deflate, out of steam and ideas. A sense of hopelessness rushes in. I’d wanted to solve this problem before Gwen gets home. Before the wedding. I’m not sure my computer program will find the answer in time, and, so far, Dean and I aren’t any closer to an answer.
“I don’t know who it is then.”
“Me either,” Dean says, his hand unmoving, warmth spreading from his palm through the fabric of my jeans and into my skin. Seeing my crestfallen expression, he gives my knee a gentle squeeze.
“We’ll figure it out, though. Don’t worry.”
We.
He said we.
16
Wednesday,December 18
6 days until the wedding
Gwen
The pulse of music in the club is so loud that it reverberates in my chest.How does Teddy work here and not get permanent hearing damage? For Christmas, I’ll buy him earplugs.
Stop it,I tell myself. Earlier today I told Mom I wouldn’t parent him anymore and yet here I am, doing it again.
A few more steps inside and I see that Teddy was right. They really decorate this place for the holidays. Twinkling multicolored Christmas lights are everywhere. They hang across dark painted walls, dangle from elegant, mismatched crystal chandeliers, and are strewn among the bottles of alcohol behind the bar. Giant ornaments, taller than my head, in white, silver, and gold, are stacked into pyramids in the corners of the room. A sleigh, pulled by eight reindeer, is suspended from the high ceiling. It sways above the dance floor.
It’s packed in here. People everywhere. I slip through the crowd, ducking under the flailing elbows of dancers and around a couple who embrace passionately. Seeing them brings a pang of longing for Caleb. I’d love to take him out on that dance floor. Let the music sweep us together, let our bodies move to the beat as one.
But that’s a foolish dream. If Caleb were here, the crowd would mob him. Unless he was surrounded by bodyguards or in a disguise, we couldn’t godancing. It’s another part of regular life I give up by being with him, like my anonymity at my medical conference. We’ll never be normal Gwen and normal Caleb. We’ll always be a spectacle, and I thought I was okay with that, but after the Lola kiss, the fiasco of my lecture, and now being here, the first bit of doubt trickles in.
I find a couple of open seats at the end of the bar, away from the DJ who plays music on the stage in the front of the room. He’s wearing a bright red Santa hat with bulky headphones over the top of it. I sit on a swiveling stool. It’s quieter here, so I don’t have to yell as loud when I ask a gorgeous female bartender for the gingerbread martini I saw advertised by the club’s entrance.
“Sissy!” a deep voice booms.
I lift my head and there he is, my younger brother Teddy. Almost five years separate us in age so you would think we wouldn’t be close, but when Dad died I was 17 and Teddy was 12. We’d clung to each other, life rafts in a stormy sea. Mom worked all the time, and our older brother was busy with community college. We trauma bonded in a way that’s unbreakable.
He comes from behind the bar to hug me. I throw my arms around him, rising up on my toes. Has he grown? That’s impossible, right? He’s twenty-five now. An adult. In that instant, I understand what Mom was talking about earlier. It’s hard to look at Teddy and not see the skin-kneed little boy he used to be. I give my head a small shake and focus on the man in front of me.
He’s gotten so handsome, my brother. Not as tall as Caleb, but still above-average height. Short, spikey, light-brown hair. Pale blue eyes, same as mine. Eyelashes long enough to make any woman jealous. He must be working out more, because his biceps strain the sleeve of his tight black T-shirt. Just like the DJ, he has on a comical holiday hat, although his is something an elf would wear.
He looks me over, grinning, then pauses, tips his head to the side, and narrows his eyes. “Is that a fanny pack you’re wearing?”
“It’s a waist bag,” I correct, hands on my hips.
“I don’t think so. That,” he says decisively, pointing at it, “is a fanny pack.”
Seriously? What’s up with the fanny pack shaming?
Before I can argue, the bartender hands me my drink. When she passesbehind Teddy, she grazes her fingers along his shoulder, giving him a flirtatious smile. He sends her a grin paired with a secretive wink. Then Teddy looks over my head with a smirk and nod of acknowledgment. I follow his gaze to a pretty brunette two tables away, who’s staring at him with undisguised longing. My jaw loosens as I watch Teddy smile and wordlessly flirt with several more women in the space of five minutes.
