Page 177 of New Growth
Tacky as hell.
El leaned close, voice low and smooth in my ear. “We pledging allegiance before or after the cake-cutting?”
I choked on a laugh, nudging him with my elbow. “You’re so stupid.”
He looked unfairly attractive in that black suit. No tie, of course—El always had to look like he wasn’t even trying, and still, everyone noticed. His hand was glued to my lower back, thumb rubbing lazy circles like he knew I needed the grounding.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asked.
I nodded. “As okay as I can be after watching my sister marry my ex-fiancé.”
He smiled a little, soft but not mocking. “Wanna spill wine on her dress?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
He brushed his thumb along the side of my hip. “We can leave early. Fake food poisoning. Or say I ate too much sugar.”
“They’d think I tried to kill you.”
“Better. Makes us a scandal. I like a little drama.”
“Of course you do.”
But I didn’t want to leave. Not really. There was something masochistically cathartic about standing in the middle of a life I used to want and realizing I didn’t miss it. Still, I felt the eyes.
People stared.
Not all at once, but in that discreet, polite way people do when they think you won’t notice. Women leaned in to whisper behind perfectly manicured hands. Older relatives who hadn’t seen me in years made wide-eyed glances between El and me. I couldn’t blame them. Jonathan and I had been engaged once. Now, Jonathan’s married to my sister, and I was here with an older, mystery man no one knew anything about.
And I wasn’t sorry for it.
“Don’t let them get to you,” El murmured, reading me too well. “They don’t know us.”
“They think you stole me,” I said under my breath.
He smiled like that idea amused him.
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t feed into it.”
“Of course not,” he said. But his grip on my waist tightened protectively anyway.
We made it through the ceremony without incident. I had successfully avoided my mother. I didn’t cry. I didn’t laugh either, though I came close when the officiant called Ryan and Jonathan “a testament to second chances.” El caught it and squeezed my thigh before I could roll my eyes all the way into the back of my head.
The reception came with all the awkwardness I expected. Everyone smiled too big and talked too much, like they were trying to make sure I wasn’t about to snap. El didn’t leave my side once. Not for food, not for drinks, not even when some woman in a glittery dress tried to flirt with him near the bar. He leaned in close and whispered, “I’m taken,” then winked at me like he was proud to say it out loud.
We danced just far enough from the crowd to avoid bumping into anyone who might make things awkward. But I didn’t care what the DJ played or who was watching. El had his arms around my waist, my face tucked under his chin, and for a moment, it didn’t feel like I was standing at my sister’s wedding. It felt like I was just with him.
“I’m proud of you,” he said into my hair.
“For what?”
“For not flipping a table yet.”
I snorted. “The night is still young.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. He didn’t say anything—just pulled me closer and let me melt into him. He swayed with me a little longer, holding me like he knew I needed it.
And I did.
