33. Fallon

As soon as the officiant proclaims the couple as husband and wife, Asher seals his lips over Adelaide’s, and the room erupts with cheers.

I can’t steal my gaze from Lexie, hoping she feels something more than heartache.

We file out in the same order we arrived and are immediately corralled to a garden where the photographers and videographers wait for us.

The late afternoon is sticky against my skin, making my hair hot against the back of my neck and shoulders. I itch to find a hair tie and pull it up, but instead, I sidle up next to Lexie.

“God, you smell like a dude.” She sniffs me.

Before I can explain, Quinn stops in front of us, critically assessing Lexie. “If you ruin this night, she’ll never forgive you. Think of someone other than yourself right now.”

Lexie rolls her eyes. “Do me a favor and fuck off.”

My heart beats a manic rhythm. Neither one is entirely in the wrong, but I will stand beside Lexie until the end of time. She could argue the sky is magenta, and I’d back her. Loyalty is in my bones.

I clear my throat, but before I can offer any support, Lexie clutches my arm and pulls me toward a blessedly empty corner of the yard.

“Oh, God. There’s Chrissy and Tobias.” Lexie studies them as I turn away. “It looks like they’re fighting.” The alcohol has her whispering too loudly.

I glance over my shoulder, recognizing Chrissy’s annoyance in the pinch of her lips and puckered forehead. I can’t see Tobias well enough from this angle to recognize his expression, but I watch as he lifts a flask to his lips.

He must feel us staring because he turns and looks at us.

I don’t look away. Instead, I wait for betrayal, anger, sadness—all the feelings that muddled my thoughts for months, to hit me like a wave.

They don’t.

At the rehearsal dinner last night, I’d been dreading seeing him so much that I barely glanced in his direction, but as I stare at him now, I feel absolutely nothing.

Tobias tips his chin, and I force a tight smile before turning back to Lexie.

“I want to throw my shoes at his face,” she growls.

“He’d probably catch them,” I remind her. “He’s pretty good at that.”

She glares at me. “We don’t compliment Satan.” Her words tip me into laughter, and whether it’s the remains of the champagne or her own anger dwindling, she joins me, and it feels significant.

We spend the next hour and a half posing and waiting while hundreds of photos are taken.

My cheeks ache, and I’m starved by the time we join the rest of the reception, and the emcee announces Adelaide and Asher Davies.

I try to distract Lexie from watching her sister with the guy she can’t get over, forcing her to mingle with family and guests while confiscating glasses of champagne her fingers are magnets for.

When dinner is announced, Lexie and I slowly weave our way inside the ballroom to the front area, which has been reserved for the wedding party. Adelaide and Asher are seated at a sweetheart table set for two, though it’s large enough for ten. Lexie swaps her nametag with someone else’s so she can sit beside me, but we realize too late that we should have swapped my seat as Quinn, Tobias, Chrissy, and another groomsman join us. Adelaide clearly hates me.

The other tables are filled with laughter and conversation, while ours is painfully, awkwardly silent.

Tobias takes another pull from his flask.

I’m in hell, and my fatal flaw of people-pleasing is pushing me straight into the flames.

A waiter stops by our table, delivering the first course because, of course, Adelaide couldn’t have had a buffet like every other wedding I’ve attended.

“You look really nice tonight, Fallon.” Tobias’s words have me dropping my spoon. It clatters against my soup bowl and flings roasted root vegetable soup toward Quinn.

Tobias chuckles, a warm sound I used to find comfort in. He takes another pull of alcohol.

My cheeks are probably rubies as I utter an apology to Quinn and try to recover. It’s not his compliment that stupefied me, it’s that he did so in front of his girlfriend when we know each other and our previous roles.

Quinn dramatically wipes down her arm, though the soup didn’t even reach her plate. “How are things going with football, Tobias? Are you looking forward to this season?”

“It’s going to be a big year,” he says.

“They’re going to wipe out Camden two weeks after we do,” Chrissy adds.

Tobias laughs off the remark, but it has the other groomsman at our table leaning forward, launching into questions about football and the conference.

I barely touch my soup or the pasta that comes as my main course. Lexie fills her stomach with two more glasses of champagne before it’s time to give her speech.

To my relief—and surprise—she delivers it flawlessly, but she chases the words that I imagine were mostly lies with another glass of champagne.

Quinn follows, adding dramatics in the way of tears that have Lexie and I exchanging a dozen eye rolls and quiet scoffs. Then, Tobias is handed the microphone. He trips over half his words and giggles through the rest, distracted twice by other women.

I almost feel sorry for Chrissy.

We endure nearly a dozen more speeches, most of them long and all unprepared.

“Oh, lord, I can’t sit through any more of this,” Lexie says, pushing her chair back. As she discreetly rounds to her sister, likely asking for permission to end the live mic, I hear Chrissy hiss at Tobias, telling him to stop drinking.

His cheeks are ruddy, and his eyes are glassy. “It’s a wedding. Jesus fuck. Loosen up and have fun. Just because you’re uncomfortable and want to be miserable doesn’t mean I should.”

His admission that he knows how uncomfortable she is and doesn’t care is too damn familiar. While this is a special occasion, I know first-hand that Tobias wouldn’t care if this was any other Saturday night and the two were doing something as mundane as sitting on a friend’s couch, watching TV. He’s always put himself first, and the fact he continues doing so—that it wasn’t just me—has relief brushing my ego while guilt pangs in my chest.

Quinn clears her throat before reminding him there are microphones, cameras, and guests everywhere.

Tobias huffs a response and then leans back in his chair, ignoring Chrissy just as intentionally as she ignores him.

The groomsman who was stuck at our dysfunctional table empties his glass in one drink.

“On behalf of Adelaide and Asher, we want to thank everyone for sharing their…” Lexie pauses long enough to swallow what is likely a sarcastic and inappropriate description for the long speeches, “Love and warm wishes. But now, please follow me outside, where the bride and groom will be sharing their first dance as husband and wife.”

The room bursts into applause. I’m so damn relieved to vacate our table and return outside that I practically leap to my feet.

I catch Lexie as she drains another glass of champagne. Uncle Doug approaches us, giving Lexie a high-five and then a hug as we head outside, where music greets us.

Guests gather around the dance floor as Adelaide and Asher move to the middle of the space, smiling as they wrap their arms around each other, and a romantic ballad with lyrics that promise forever plays.

I try to read their faces, interpret their smiles, and translate the placement of their hands, questioning if Lexie and I are right and if this is a marriage of convenience and superficial desires or if it could be more. My thoughts drift as I imagine what it would be like to dance with Corey. Where would his hands be? Would he be silent like Asher or whisper in my ear? Would we be seeking out cameras and smiling or staring at each other?

I try to convince myself that I don’t know because we’ve never danced together—have hardly even hugged. Yet, I feel as though I can answer each of these questions without hesitation. I can feel the ghost of his hands on my waist, pulling me closer like he had that night at the bar before kissing me, with a hint of possession and desperation and so much control it made me swoon. And like that night, I know his gaze would be on me and nothing else, his voice quiet, whispering words of affection and anticipation meant for my ears only because though we’d be sharing this moment, it would be ours and ours alone.

The fantasy is so vivid and real, that tears prick my eyes as the song comes to an end. I blink them away and turn toward where Lexie had been standing, but she’s gone, and Uncle Doug is making his way onto the dance floor as the emcee announces the father-daughter dance.

Charlie moves beside me, hitting me with his elbow. “Was Quinn always this hot?” he asks, loosening his tie.

I roll my eyes as threats line my tongue. “You’re not allowed to even consider dating her.”

My middle brother barks out a laugh before wrapping his arm around my shoulders. “So you’re saying I shouldn’t accept her invitation tonight.”

I scrunch my nose. “I’ll disown you.”

Rather than laugh or make a quip, his grip tightens, and his jaw steels. I glance around in time to see Tobias give a subtle nod to my brother.

“Mom would not forgive you if you got into a brawl here. Don’t even think about it,” I warn him.

Charlie turns to me. “He wants to act all buddy, buddy, like I don’t want to rearrange his fucking face.”

I fear my laughter might encourage him, but I can’t stop myself. “I think he knows. That’s why he hasn’t come over and talked to you.” While Gunnar and Mason never liked Tobias, Charlie had. They talked sports and stats, their friendship kindling the fa?ade of something more in my thoughts. “Trust me, he’s not worth it.”

Charlie’s arm tightens around my shoulders. “But you are.”

I gently slug him. “I’m not changing my mind about Quinn.”

He laughs aloud, pulling me even closer. “Just let me get one good hit in. He’s so drunk, he probably wouldn’t even know it was me.”

“We’ll see how the night goes.”

When the dedicated dances finally end, Charlie leads me onto the floor, where we find our parents. He twirls me in circles, making me laugh and forget about the politics of Camden, my bruised heart, and Lexie’s battered one.

Gunnar joins us with Lexie and Mason in tow, and my brothers pull out the most embarrassing dance moves, including several they make up on the spot, which has Lexie and me joining in. We are only one-upped by my father, the king of insane and horrible dance moves who uses his arm as a trumpet and tries to shimmy anytime the laughter starts to dim.

We dance and laugh until my pump alerts me, reminding me I didn’t eat enough dinner for all the dancing.

“I’ve got some candy in my pocket,” Gunnar says.

“I think I need a little more than that. I’m going to go see if I can find some juice and maybe a leftover roll.”

“Want me to come with?” Lexie asks.

I shake my head. “I’ll be right back.”

Dad hands me a couple of singles. “You might need to make it a double. I’ve got moves for days.”

I take the cash with a smile and head for the bar.

I’m standing in line to get juice when the sight of Tobias and Chrissy standing in a dimly lit corner of the garden, openly scowling at each other, catches my attention. Tobias shakes his head and turns, throwing a champagne glass before storming off. Chrissy’s face creases with tears before she slinks inside.

Unease wrestles in my chest as I debate what to do.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.

I order an orange juice and slide the cash Dad passed me into his tip jar. My special talent, which really isn’t a talent at all, is my ability to down a full glass of liquid like a practiced reveler. I swallow the juice in one gulp and set the empty cup on a tray before following Chrissy inside. I’m not sure if I’ll be able to find her or what I’ll say if I do, but like leaving Evelyn alone with that angry customer, pretending I didn’t see what happened to Chrissy, feels like a jerk move. I duck into the nearest restroom.

Chrissy’s in front of the mirror, dabbing at her red-tinted eyes with toilet paper.

“Hey,” I say, taking a tentative step closer.

Her gaze skitters to mine in the mirror, looking like a trapped cat.

“I saw what happened, and I just want you to know that you deserve better. Tobias was way out of line there, and?—”

Chrissy spins to face me, eyes slit. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I dated him for six months. I know how he can be. How selfish he can act.”

She tips her head back and laughs humorlessly. “God, you’re so jealous, it’s disgusting.”

“Jealous?” The word leaves a bad taste in my mouth because while there are a dozen ways to describe how I feel seeing her here with Tobias, jealousy is not on the menu. “I’m not jealous, Chrissy. Jesus. I’m coming to you as your friend to tell you he shouldn’t treat you that way.”

“Friend? God, catch a hint. We aren’t friends. We never were. And you know what? Westfield is better off without you.” She pushes past me, shouldering the door open.

My heart beats a painful rhythm as I swallow the lump in my throat that thickens as her words run on repeat in my head and somewhere much deeper where my own self-deprecating thoughts form and flourish.

My face is hot, and tears sting my eyes as I approach the sinks. I turn the tap to cold and plunge my hands beneath the stream. I wait several minutes, long enough for my cheeks to cool and my heart rate to settle, then dry my hands and head back outside.

Someone’s announcing the cake is about to be cut as I reach the yard.

I follow the crowds and watch Adelaide and Asher slice into the gorgeous five-layer cake before feeding each other tiny bites with polite smiles rather than laughing or even jeering. It’s another picture-perfect moment like the rest of their day.

Lexie seems to materialize beside me, a drink in both hands. “He asked me to dance. Why in the hell did he ask me to dance?” She drinks the contents of the first cup without wincing and is about to raise the second when I intercept it.

“Let’s go,” I say.

“We rode here with my mom.” Her voice is slurred again, and I don’t know if it’s from sadness or the alcohol. She takes the cup I’d confiscated and drinks it as easily as water. The concerns about sufficient parking had our family all carpooling, trapping us here.

“I can’t stay,” I admit, my voice as fragile as I feel.

“Oh, shit. What happened, Fal?”

I shake my head. “Let’s go.”

We clasp hands and head back inside, and though I know I should probably be arranging for a Lyft, I don’t. Instead, my fingers seem to drift on their own accord for the person who’s filled my thoughts since the first weekend in May.

He answers on the second ring.

“Can you come get us?”

“Us?”

“Lexie’s with me.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Mostly.”

“Fallon, I need a little more than that. What happened?”

“I…” I release a shallow breath and wipe at a stray tear that betrays my determination to remain unaffected.

Lexie swipes my phone and turns away from me.

“What are you doing?” I hiss, following her as she saunters away, surprisingly fast for her current state.

She holds up a finger and presses my phone to her ear. “Look, Fallon’s asking for help—your help—and considering she never asks for help, this is a really big moment, so I suggest you get your ass over here.”

“Lexie!” I growl.

She nods at whatever his response is, then gives him the manor’s name and address before hanging up.

“He’s on his way.”

“Do you even know who that was?”

She rolls her eyes as she hands me my phone. “Of course I do. You’re the only one in denial about your feelings for Corey.”