Chapter Two

Claud had to basically carry me back out of the church in the same manner he'd brought me in. I didn't protest. For someone as big as he was, he was remarkably gentle. Plus, I really appreciated not being the center of attention again.

I took the required photos with the wedding party, trying to stay in the background. The pictures were for Cecelia and Carlson, not for me. I looked pretty with my shoulder-length blonde hair curled softly around my face. The makeup artist had even managed to make my brown eyes look amazing, probably because she'd basically created eyebrows and eyelashes for me. My blonde brows and pale lashes were even lighter than my hair and, as such, were nearly invisible without makeup.

Even glammed up and knowing that I looked beautiful, I didn't particularly like getting my picture taken, and the fact that I was still wearing the stupid high-heeled shoes made me want to run and hide. I wobbled and nearly fell with every change of position.

The damn things were cursed.

As soon as photos were done, I ran barefoot to the backroom, not caring about the grass or the cold linoleum. I just wanted them off as quickly as possible. I carefully set the high heels by the venue's side entrance, where they'd be out of the way. They were such pretty things, sparkly and silver, but I knew they would ruin everything if I wore them for a minute more.

I'd never been able to walk in heels. My mother, aunts, and Cecelia had all tried to teach me, but it always ended in disaster. I wore kitten heels for three minutes and I nearly broke my wrist. I had crossed a room in wedges and had to use crutches for a week. Wearing pumps had required an x-ray.

I liked flat shoes. I wore ballet flats to prom. I wore delicate sandals for my college graduation. I wore tennis shoes to work and sensible loafers to job interviews. I owned exactly one pair of high heels: these. They weren't even that high. These deathtraps were going to disappear into my closet, never to come out again.

I slipped on a pair of tennis shoes and hid the cursed high heels in a dark corner by the service entrance, where I hoped no one would find them. The tennis shoes were a soft gray color, and I hoped that no one would notice my footwear change, although I suspected they would because I wasn't crashing into people.

Guests milled aimlessly around the reception room. The happy couple had been introduced while I was changing shoes, and they now walked around greeting guests. Tables were set up with little names next to each plate with where they were expected to sit. The names “Cecelia and Carlson” were everywhere. Most of the guests were enjoying the open bar, and the beautiful June weather outside as they waited for the caterers to announce dinner was ready.

“Watch your step,” my uncle teased as he walked past me to get to the bar. “You put the fall in falling in love!”

I smiled politely and reminded myself that he had been drinking all day. I really hoped no one else felt the need to make me relive the experience all night. I glanced over at the dark corner one last time to make sure that the heels were out of sight and went to join the party.

I snagged a glass of wine from the bar and wandered around for a moment before going to find my seat. My table was to the right of the sweetheart table. I could see my aunt and uncle's names to my left and the names of parents of the groom to my right with one empty seat beside me. I was alone with the parents of the happy couples for the meal.

I groaned a little and made a mental note to get more wine. It was going to be a long dinner.

Carlson's mother and my aunt, Cecelia's mother, were in a quiet war to decide which of their children had settled and which had married up. Personally, I thought both of their children were winning at life by marrying one another. Last Thanksgiving, the two women had nearly come to blows because they couldn't decide if Cecelia's mashed potatoes or Carlson's gravy was better. I'd mixed the two dishes together and ate so much that I needed to roll myself out of the house.

I had no backup tonight, either. The chair next to me was empty for the date that I had never come up with. I'd told them not to give me a plus one, but no one had listened. I sighed. I looked longingly over at the table where my parents and Carlson's aunts and uncles laughed and had a good time. No empty chairs at that table. Nowhere for me to escape.

This was going to be so much fun.

I sat down and took a sip of wine to bolster myself for surviving Carlson's mother's criticism and my aunt's disappointment. As cousin and friend to Cecelia, as well as a co-worker to Carlson, I was often dragged into their arguments or used as an example of how good or how bad the other child was. My love life had somehow made it into their competition for best child.

I considered leaving early or just hiding until dinner was over. In addition to dealing with the mothers, I was supposed to make a speech. It filled me with cold dread just thinking about it. But I loved my cousin. I would do anything for her. Even stand up in the middle of a crowded room and speak. It was going to be torture, but I'd do anything for the ones I loved.

I watched the room, taking in the smiling faces and happy people. Conversations flowed as freely as the wine and beer. Weddings were always amazing for people watching.

“Thank you for not pranking my wedding,” the groom said to someone standing directly behind me. “I know that you wanted to.”

I tried not to look obvious as I shifted slightly in my seat to see who Carlson was talking to, wishing I had a better view. Who would want to ruin a wedding? And more specifically, who would want to ruin Carlson and Cecilia's wedding?

Cecelia was my best friend, as well as a relative. She was smart and funny, and everything my mother had wanted me to be. Carlson was old-money rich, a doctor, and the kind of guy that everyone wanted their daughter to marry.

The idea that anyone would want to wreck their day was surprising.

I turned a little more, trying my best to make it look like I wasn't snooping in on the conversation. My new cousin-in-law was standing next to a handsome man wearing a cheeky grin. The other man had reddish-gold hair and perfect posture in a dark suit that looked expensive. But if he was friends with Carlson, he probably came from money. Everyone in Carlson's social circle came from money or knew people that did.

“Me? Never.” I heard the male reply, humor in his friendly voice. He had a fantastic accent that made me wonder where he was from. England, maybe? “Weddings are supposed to be solemn, yet joyful occasions. I would never interrupt a wedding.”

Carlson raised his eyebrows and looked skeptically at his friend.

“Receptions on the other hand...” the tall stranger trailed off with a shrug and a mischievous smile that made the groom roll his eyes.

Carlson sighed and pointed to the chair at the table next to me. “Just go sit down,” he instructed. He brought the man over and greeted me. “Zoey, you know how to sedate difficult patients, right?”

I nodded. “I worked with an anesthesiologist for a whole day last year,” I assured him with a playful wink. “I'm practically a pro. I can even say some of the medication names properly.”

Carlson and I worked at the same hospital, so he knew just how much of a lie that was. I could say nearly all of the medications correctly. I was a nurse, after all.

Carlson grinned. “Good. If he does anything, just sedate him for me, will you? And I do mean anything.”

The handsome stranger sat politely in the chair next to me at the table, looking demure. I could practically see the halo floating over his head as he pretended to look shocked at Carlson's request.

“But what should I use? You didn't use Valium as a centerpiece.” I looked around the table. Flowers and candles dotted the white linen tablecloth with little cards of paper with wedding guest names. “All I have is a serving spoon.”

“I do have a rather hard head,” the man replied. “I don't think a serving spoon is going to work.”

“Zoey, I give you permission to knock him over the head with anything you can get your hands on. Spoons, plates, a chair- anything,” Carlson told me. He gave a stern look to the man. “I'll happily pay the caterer for any damages as long as it keeps him from pulling pranks.”

“Me? Pull a prank?” The man gave a perfect expression of innocent surprise. “Carlson, what kind of man do you think I am?”

“The kind that had bagpipes show up for the first dance at Jenkin's wedding,” Carlson replied. “The kind that replaced the champagne toast with vodka at Tim's wedding. The kind that convinced the bride to wear a fake snake as a garter. The kind that rearranged the wedding toppers into a sexual theme at Dan's very conservative wedding. The kind that snuck whoopie cushions on the seats at the sweetheart table at that same wedding. That kind.”

I couldn't help but giggle, imagining the effect of whoopie cushions at a fancy reception. The handsome man shot me a playful grin.

“I have no plans to repeat any of that,” he said. He held up a hand with four fingers raised. “Scout's honor. I'll be good.”

Carlson rolled his eyes again. “You were never a boy scout. And it's supposed to be three fingers, not four.”

The handsome man's smile just got a little bit wider.

“Seriously, Zoey- just knock him out if he even looks sideways at the champagne bottles,” Carlson told me. “And don't let him near my chair.”

I reached over and picked up a large silver serving spoon resting on the table and threateningly hit the spoon into my open palm.

Carlson and the man laughed as I gave the red-haired man my best menacing look. Carlson patted his friend on the shoulder with a smile and a shake of the head before heading off to greet more of his guests.

“You'd really hit me over the head with a serving spoon to keep me from spiking the punch?” the man asked, eyeing the spoon still in my grip. “Is that medically safe?”

“Well, it's not something they officially covered in nursing school,” I admitted, setting the spoon back on the table. “The hospital actually recommends using serving trays.”

The man chuckled, warm and friendly. His smile was bright as grinned at my stupid joke. He had a great smile, and his dark green eyes sparkled with amusement. I loved the flutter of warmth growing in my stomach as he looked at me.

Maybe this table wouldn't be so terrible after all.