“That’s it, fucker!” Stuart yelled, rushing toward the guy. All hell broke loose as his groomsmen followed, though it was unclear if they were trying to hold him back or incite the forthcoming brawl.
It was a cacophony of male yelling and gray tuxedos in motion.
His mother yelled, “Stuart, no!”
Just as Stuart punched The Objector square in the face.
“Oh, my God,” I said to no one in particular, watching in disbelief as The Objector took the punch without his body moving, as if he hadn’t even felt it.
Stuart’s father looked right at me as he loudly muttered, “Jesus Christ.”
And Pastor Pete apparently forgot that his lapel mike was on because he sighed and said, “Are you fucking kidding me?”
* * *
? ? ?
“To dodging the Stuart bullet,” Emma said, holding up her shot glass.
“To dodging Stuart,” I repeated, tossing back the Cuervo.
It burned going down—man, I hate tequila—but I welcomed its effects. My head was spinning from the wedding collapse, and I desperately wished for impairment of any sort. It’d been four hours since the ceremony brawl and an hour since Stuart had removed his things from the honeymoon suite, yet I still felt like everything had just happened.
“Whoo!” Emma shouted, slamming her glass down on the bar.
Yes, she is one shot ahead of me and way more relaxed.
The honeymoon suite had a fully stocked bar between the two balcony doors, and we’d been bellied up to it since the moment Stuart had left.
“I still cannot believe how perfectly it went down,” she said, giving her head a shake. “I mean, technically it’s exactly what we paid for, but the dude made everyone at the ceremony haaaate Cheating Stuart and totally sympathize with you.”
Cheating Stuart. I appreciated her villainizing him—that’s what friends did, after all—but I was still devastated by Stu’s infidelity. Yes, he’d cheated in the past, so I hadn’t been completely blindsided, but I’d wholeheartedly believed that it was a one-time mistake and I’d chugged the Kool-Aid of happily-ever-after like a damn fool.
Until I saw his phone two nights ago.
“I’m just so relieved the canceled-wedding blame falls solely on Stuart instead of me and my parents,” I said, leaning forward on my stool to grab a Twinkie off the bar.
Until Emma found her unorthodox solution, I’d been resigned to marrying Stuart and seeking an annulment after the fact. I knew it was totally bonkers to go through with the wedding, but it was the only way to ensure my father didn’t pay the price for my failed relationship.
I unwrapped the snack and shook my head, still in awe. “I can’t believe the plan actually worked.”
“I know,” Emma agreed, reaching around the box of Twinkies to grab more tequila. “Thank God for The Objector.”
Max
I knocked on the hotel room door and waited.
This was my least favorite part.
More often than not, the bride who desperately wanted out of her own wedding was an emotional mess afterward, shocked by the end of what she thought would be the beginning of the rest of their lives together.
And I was not the reassuring kind. Back pats and handkerchiefs were not my thing.
I just needed my money and to get the hell out of there.
On a side note, who the hell doesn’t have Venmo or PayPal?
I heard a noise just before the door flew open.
“The Objector!” A blonde in a Red Hot Chili Peppers T-shirt that went down to her knees grinned at me. “I’m Emma. We talked on the phone . . . ?”
Ah, yes. The bride’s best friend. “So you’re Tom’s sister.”
“Yes!” She grinned again, and I realized she was totally buzzed. “Come in!”
She held open the door and I followed her inside what was obviously the bridal suite. Huge living room, bedroom to the left that appeared to have rose petals everywhere, and a silver bucket on the coffee table with a bottle of champagne inside.
Typical.
I shifted my gaze to the right and saw the bar, with an open bottle of tequila in the center and two shot glasses on the surface.
Less typical.
“You were amazing,” she squealed, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe it as she went right over to the bar and grabbed that bottle. “Tommy told me to trust him, but I had no idea that you’d be such a professional.”
I smiled and muttered a thanks, but I was never sure how to respond to that. It wasn’t like I was proud of my performance. I wasn’t an actor looking for good reviews, for fuck’s sake.