Page 22 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

Elijah and Josie do look like the perfect pair. I thought it might be strange to see Elijah with his childhood sweetheart, considering I was there when he married Carly, though there wasn’t much love in that relationship to begin with. As it turns out, though, it’s painfully obvious that this bride and groom are soulmates.Ifsoulmates were the sort of thing I believed in.

Despite my paltry answers, the woman persists. “Now that I’m thinking about it, you must be one of Elijah’s college friends.”

“Yes.”

“How nice of you to come all this way! I’m Dina Thomas, a friend of the family. Or rather, a friend of both families.” She laughs at her own joke, if that’s what you can call it, so I force a smile and nod.

“Lovely to meet you,” I reply politely.

She appears to realize I’m not much of a conversationalist and glances around for a moment. “Oh, Hanover! There you are, old man!”

To my relief, she bustles away with a friendly wave in my general direction.

Unfortunately, a backyard barbecue implies less places to hide than a private party at a dimly-lit bar. The yard at the Montgomery house is large and well-manicured, and the handsome oak trees that might have provided me some kind of cover are busy providing shade to the buffet-style table of offerings. I do my best to linger at the edges of the crowd, loitering near some Caltech acquaintances to make it seem like I’m an active participant in all this socializing. Luckily, there are enough people here that I manage to slip under the radar.

I learn very quickly, however, that it’s best to avoid Harry, Elijah’s former assistant, since he seems to be just as much of a social butterfly as Lucy. He works the crowd the way a best man is expected to, welcoming those with familiar faces and warmly introducing himself to everyone else. It’s impressive to watch, I have to admit, but it’s not like I’m jealous. I knowhowto socialize just fine. The problem is that I simply don’t like to.

“…And then Elijah goes, ‘But, Harry! I don’tlikethe first-class lounge!’” Harry bellows the punchline to his long-winded joke on the opposite side of the yard, followed by a roar of laughter from the crowd of listeners he’s attracted.

I glance over at Elijah to see his reaction, but he’s too busy talking with his future father-in-law and a man that I canonly guess is his future uncle-in-law, since the men are similar enough to be brothers. Then again, Lucy and Josie look like they could be siblings, but they’re apparently cousins. That side of the family must have aggressively dominant genetics.

Thankfully, it’s easy enough to avoid Lucy. She’s even more active than she was last night, fluttering around the yard like a bird in her pastel blue jumpsuit. After our interaction with the disposable camera, I didn’t even bother to pretend like I was going to play along. I ended up handing off the camera to another guest who had already burned through the film in theirs.

I mean, really. What was I going to do? Run around and take pictures of strangers? I’ve spent most of my life avoiding people like that.

Yes, it was specifically for the wedding website, but I don’t have be a professional in the tech industry to know for certain that everything on the internet is permanent. And, after the childhood I had, I’m an extremely private person. Whether Lucy understands it or not, she has to respect it.

“Are you enjoying yourself, honey?”

I turn to find an older woman who looks oddly familiar. She smiles at my confusion and immediately supplies, “I’m the mother of the bride, Carol. You’re Theodore, aren’t you?”

“Theo, yes. It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Montgomery.”

She waves off the formality with a flick of her wrist. “It’s Carol, please. And I know it’s probably terribly impolite of me to say so, but I’m a huge fan of your mother.”

It takes immense effort not to outwardly cringe. “Oh… thanks.”

“Don’t worry,” she tells me, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder with a kind smile. “Nobody told me. It’s just that I’ve been watching her movies since I was a teenager and the resemblance is striking.”

Somehow, the warmth and calm radiating from this woman keeps me from raising my hackles, which is usually what happens when someone randomly pulls me aside to talk about how much they love Daphne Shay—as if I’m a direct line to her rather than my own person. I can tell that Carol means well, so I smile in thanks.

“Yes, I hear that a lot,” I reply.

“Oh, I’m sure you do. Now, please tell me that you’re one of those Caltech boys. I need someone who knows more about technology than my silly husband.”

“I am, indeed. What’s the problem?”

She whips out her phone. “Well, it’s just that every time I try to take a picture, it doesn’t stay still.”

“Pardon?”

“The photo. It moves. Not like a video, but—”

I chuckle, understanding the issue quickly. “Ah, I see. You’ve got your live photos setting on. Let me see.”

Carol Montgomery hands her phone off to me swiftly, as if it’s a hot potato. It takes me all of two seconds to show her how to change the settings, and it most certainly didn’t require me to use my college degree, but I’m flattered when she gasps and coos over how impressed she is.

“Joe! He fixed it!” she calls out to her husband.

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