Page 24 of Until Then

“I wonder how many celebrities we’ll be seeing tonight,” Mom says, checking her red lipstick in the car mirror. She’s beautiful, but I’m not sure how I came out of the woman.

Where my head is red and curly, mom’s is sleek ebony.

Where her body is trim and tan, mine is curvy and pale.

Unfortunately, I seem to have taken all my physical attributes from the man who never wanted to call himself a father.

“There will be a few,” I mutter. Thinking of another man with the power to rob me of my defenses I’ve carefully been crafting since, well, since birth, I guess.

Mom smiles. “I’m so proud of Briar. She’s done so well for herself, yet kept grounded. And this Tyrell, phew, he’s handsome isn’t he? Marci says he’s just head-over-heels for Bry, and so humble, too, despite his success.”

I smile vaguely. “They are pretty perfect for each other.”

And it’s true.

I love Tyrell for Briar.

They’re both great people who avoid the limelight, merely enjoy doing their jobs and passions without the clout that could come with it.

I lean my head against the headrest. Tyrell and Briar both care about Noah Hayden too.

Maybe he’s not what I keep trying to make him out to be.

The dinner takes up the entire back room of a restaurant with a waitlist of six months.

Laughter, conversations, all of it rattles the modern beams that crisscross over the ceiling. Too much wine passes between the guests, and more than one boisterous toast is given to the happy couple.

I hardly touch my plate.

In truth, I’m too absorbed in avoiding the gaze of the man across the table, then down three seats.

The seating has Briar written all over it.

I’m not by Greer.

I’m barely by my own mother and grandmother.

She placed me strategically in proximity to Noah Hayden, but, of course, couldn’t be so on-the-nose as to put him directly across from me.

“Dancing!” All at once, Briar stands up from her place at the head of the table. “The only thing I need to rehearse is the wedding party dance. Bridesmaids, groomsmen. Stand up and get your partner.”

“You haven’t practiced your dance?” Briar’s cousin—a girl of seventeen—practically looks scandalized.

Briar snickers. “Tyrell and I are very,verygood at dancing, Luce. It’s all you people”—she points at those of us marked with a simple daisy near our water glasses—“that have me worried.”

Tyrell lifts his bottled beer. “We need to make sure you don’t embarrass us. Odds are one or two cameras are going to sneak in.”

Collective groans ripple down the table. It’s strange to be seated so casually amongst celebrities, rockstars, even a few business tycoons that land on Forbes now and then. Scattered throughout are ordinary people, like me. The sort that live their nine to fives and watch the person sitting next to them on screen at night.

No one wants the paparazzi to shadow the day.

There’s a bit of pride knowing Briar and Tyrell, high-profile as they are, have found such a circle of people who care about their happiness more than clout.

Another clap from the bride, and the wedding party is forced to stand.

Noah rises slowly, buttoning the jacket of his suit in the center. He casts a swift, wary look my way, then pastes a confident sort of smirk on his face when another bridesmaid squeezes past, whispering something to him as she goes.

“Hayley Mae.” Nan tugs on my hand. “Tell me that boy is your partner.”

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