* * *
THE MAID OF honor turned to me after wrapping Wes in a hug. “Sorry to maul your date. I’m Felicia.” She reached out to shake hands, her voice confident. “Oh,” she said. “We met at the gym, right?” She gave Wes a curious smile and turned back to me.
The wedding had been lovely, but the space between Wes and me had felt off all night, like we didn’t know how to be near each other. He’d lean in to tell me something as I turned my head to look elsewhere, or we’d start talking at the same time and not know how to recover. It was like we couldn’t even figure out how to be friends anymore. As Felicia chatted with him, we stood by the bar with our cocktails, and having her there provided a brief reprieve from the weirdness.
It returned when she was called away.
“She seems fun,” I commented as we looked for our table in the reception hall.
“Yeah,” he said, glancing around. “Definitely.”
I hated this. Even if nothing more would ever happen, we were still friends, and every interaction so far tonight had been awkward. “Quick,” I said, trying to wrestle the moment from the silence growing between us. “What is your least favorite wedding tradition?”
“That’s a tough one,” he said as we sat. He looked a little relieved and leaned forward, surveying the room. “I guess the couple feeding each other cake.”
“You’re a hater of fun? Or just wasting cake?”
“Think about it, we’re all sitting here watching them cut a cake. For starters, why is that a thing? Do married couples often cut cakes together?” He held up his fingers and ticked off his points.
I sighed, one arm perched on the table. “I think it signifies taking care of each other or something. It’s playful and romantic.”
“It’s messy and pointless,” he responded, holding my gaze.
“You wouldn’t want to publicly rub food on the woman you love?”
“I’d rather do that privately.” He winked but then caught himself, and his face shifted back from flirtatious. “What’s your wedding red flag? You like everything, huh?”
I took a sip of my drink. “I don’t like the ‘Chicken Dance,’？” I said after thinking about it for a minute.
He cocked his head to the side. “The ‘Chicken Dance’？”
I tried to describe it, walking him through the steps, but he still looked confused.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen it.”
“You have,” I said.
“Don’t think so,” he said, brows knit.
I stood, tucking my hands to my chest, and flapped my arms like in the dance. I realized my mistake immediately, because his face cracked into a grin. I stepped forward, and he held up his palms defensively.
“Oh, now I recognize it.” He tried to hold in his laugh, but his shoulders shook.
“You’re such a jerk.” I swatted at his chest, but he dropped his hands to my hips, holding me in place defensively, though it didn’t feel defensive. The way his palms settled on me, I imagined him pulling me into his lap and kissing my neck and his hands running up my thigh and how his stubble would feel against my skin. Goose bumps rose on the back of my neck, and I looked down at Wes, whose own gaze had darkened.
His fingers flexed, and I jerked back when I let myself realize how good it felt. Enough.
“Britt,” he said, brow furrowed.
I shook my head as a voice boomed from the sound system, interrupting our moment of connection. It was accompanied by a knife tapping a glass, and the room hushed as the groom paused on the stage. Wes gave me another searching look, but I slipped from his grasp and took my seat, facing the couple and avoiding his gaze.
“Thank you,” the groom said from the stage. “We’re so glad you could be here. It means the world to have everyone we love with us, but the only person I need here today, or any day, is Naya.” The room fell into an aww, and I caught myself placing my hand to my heart when he turned to her. “You’re the strongest, most beautiful, and most amazing woman I’ve ever known, and I feel lucky every day to spend my life with you.”
She swiped a tear from her face.
“I never knew life could be like this. You’re the only one I want to conquer fears with, the only one who can match me pun for pun.” A rumble of laughter rolled through the room. “And definitely the only one who could teach me to make a free throw.” A cheer erupted from across the room, along with a few hoots from other guests, including Wes. The bride laughed with them, and I caught a quick glance of Wes’s smile, joining in on the joke, the uncomplicated affection he had for the couple clear on his face.