Page 88 of The Wedding Wrecker

"Oh good, you're here." She wiped her eyes. "Look what Mom brought."

She held up a photo of us as kids—me in my mom's wedding dress, which dragged on the floor and gaped at the shoulders, while Lily wore one of mom's veils like a cape.

"You were practicing," Mom said, dabbing at her eyes, "even then."

"Like how you should be practicing some common sense,” I said, voice full of mock reproach. “Seriously?” I asked, taking the album and pictures from her. “You’retryingto make yourself cry right after getting your makeup done?”

The makeup artist smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll get her cleaned up when she’s finished with the waterworks."

Lily caught my hand. "Thank you. For everything. Not just the wedding, but also for being an amazing sister and an even better friend. I love you, Em.”

"Love you too, Lily. And that's what sisters are for." I squeezed her fingers. "Now seriously stop crying. Your eyes are going to be all puffy, even if she can fix your makeup.”

“I’ll try. But look how sweet we were,” she said, pressing two fingers to another photo.

I headed for the door. "Wedding planner duties call. Send for me if you need anything. Okay?"

"Tell James I said hi!" Lily called after me.

I made a rude gesture without turning around, their laughter following me into the hall.

The ceremony was perfect, of course. Not because everything went exactly as planned—Dick knocked over a flower arrangement during the procession, and the flower girls got distracted halfway down the aisle and had to be herded back on course, along with a few other small mishaps.

But it was perfect because of the way Marcus's eyes filled with tears when he saw Lily. Perfect because of how she practically ran the last few steps to reach him. Perfect because when they said their vows, there were no secrets between them.

I didn't realize I was crying until James handed me a handkerchief.

"Thought you might need this," he whispered.

I dabbed at my eyes. "Since when do you carry a handkerchief? Are you an eighty-year-old man?"

"Shh," he said, but he was smiling. "We're about to get to the good part."

Sure enough, the officiant was asking if anyone had reason these two should not be wed. For the first time since Ireland, I didn't hold my breath waiting for someone to stand up.

Instead, I watched my sister kiss her new husband while everyone cheered. I watched Richard Wellington try to hide his own tears. I watched Dick hit on one of the bridesmaids and get spectacularly shot down.

And I felt James's hand find mine, his thumb tracing circles on my palm.

"Still think some weddings are worth wrecking?" I asked later, as we swayed together during the reception.

"Definitely." He spun me out, then pulled me back against his chest. "But some are worth protecting instead."

"Yeah?" I tipped my face up to his. "How do you know which is which?"

"Same way I knew you were different." He brushed his lips across mine. "Sometimes you just know."

"That's not very scientific."

"Neither is love."

I smiled against his mouth. "When did you get so sappy?"

"Must be all this time I’ve been spending hanging around with a wedding planner. They’re notoriously romantic and sappy.”

“We’ve done a lot more than hang around,” I teased.

“You’re right. I should be more specific. All this time vigorously fucking and?—"

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