Page 34 of Asher

Fuck. Maybe the best thing is just to call this wedding off.

CHAPTERFIFTEEN

Garrett

“Never fear, I’ve arrived!”The door bangs against the wall as Alistair makes his loud and annoying entrance.

“Yay,” I say flatly. It’s been barely two minutes since I chased my parents and another of our cousins out of the room. Can’t a man have some peace and quiet before he gets married?

“Oh, come on, you know you’ve been desperate to see me.” Alistair bounds across the room and catches me in a tight hug. “It’s okay, Garrett. I’m here now.”

Somehow, I’d forgotten how muchmorehe is in person.

When he finally lets go, I take a moment to straighten my suit jacket, then look past him to the people who followed him in.

“Ellie.” I smile, shoving Alistair aside so I can go to our cousin. They work together, but I haven’t seen Elinor since her wedding several years ago in this very house. I hug her—a normal hug. “How are you? Where’s Javier?”

“He’s gone with the others to find seats and be social. I thought David could use another sane person to anchor him.”

I don’t really understand what she means by that, except that our family is insane. Nobody would deny that.

Turning to the men standing beside her, I hold out my hand. “Thank you for coming.”

Aidan takes my hand. “I’m honored to be here.” He hesitates. “You know that I know…?”

I nod. “I didn’t expect Alistair to keep it secret from you. Or you,” I add, glancing at Ellie. I’m fairly certain their whole work team knows this isn’t a real marriage.

Well, it’s real. It’s just not… organic.

“And the whole thing was my dumb idea,” Lucifer Sam announces. “So… sorry? And hey, you’ve been living in the same town with Damaris for three months now and you’re still alive. That’s a great sign.”

I laugh. “She’s not that bad. Uh… did Andrew Turner come with you?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. He swore to stay away from Damaris. And Gideon called her, and she promised no death at the wedding.” He smiles widely, but it seems a little forced to me. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

The sentence is punctuated by the pop of a champagne cork, and we turn almost as one to see that Alistair has produced a bottle from somewhere, complete with glasses.

“Did you bring that with you?” I ask as he pours.

“Yep! I knew you wouldn’t be prepared. You’ve always been a bit behind the eight ball, Garrett. Not like me. I’m always ready for a party.” He shoves a glass into my hand and picks up the next one. I glance into the flute and am instantly mesmerized.

“So pretty,” I gasp.

“What the actual fuck?” the lucifer demands beside me, reaching over to take my glass. I pull it back and frown at him.

“I’m sure he’s got enough for you. This one’s mine.”

Lucifer Sam blinks at me. “Now I see the family resemblance. Alistair, what the hell? Is there glitter in that booze?”

“There is. I had to order it special, but I knew Garrett would appreciate it.” He passes more glasses around.

I’m in a quandary. On the one hand, this is the kind of thing that people stereotype hellhounds for. It’s things like glittery champagne that lead to jokes about us pooping glitter. Which… if I drink this, I actually might. So I should hand it back to Alistair and kindly but sensibly tell him no, there will be no glittery shenanigans at my wedding. I’m asensiblehellhound. Down-to-earth.

On the other hand, my sparkly champagne is so fucking pretty and I want to drink it all so my insides will sparkle too.

Fuck it. How often am I likely to get married, after all? I lift the glass to my lips and gulp down the contents.

“Whoa!” Alistair snatches it away from me, but it’s too late. I’ve swallowed it all, and I know it’s not possible, but somehow I feel sparkly and glittery now. “Dude, you were supposed to pace yourself. Do you know how much this shit cost me?” There’s a certain gleam in his eye—dare I say he looks guilty?

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