Page 58 of Say Yes to the Hot Mess

Then I frown, something else occurring to me. “He’s your cousin; aren’t you in the wedding party?”

“No,” he says, his voice dry. “Corbin has four brothers. They’re the groomsmen. I’m glad I dodged that bullet, to be honest.”

I nod. “Me too. Otherwise I would have to sit by myself at the wedding. Probably next to Valencia, and probably listening to stories about your famous chicken cordon bleu or your famous pastrami sandwich or something.”

His eyes sparkle as he says, “I do make a mean pastrami sandwich.”

“I’m sure you do, but I don’t eat much meat,” I say with a grin. “Just chicken, really.”

Dex throws back his head and laughs. “Pretty presumptuous to assume I was offering to cook for you. I only do that for mylong-termfake girlfriends.”

“Yeah?” I say, trailing my hand down the length of the tie and then giving it a tug. I tilt my head, still grinning. “What’s a girl gotta do to get a gig like that?”

His smile widens. “You interested?” he says, somehow moving closer to me.

“Depends,” I say, and now there’s a breathless quality to my voice that wasn’t there before. We’re flirting, I know we are, but…it’s fun.And I haven’t felt this lightness in a long time. Surely it can’t hurt anything. “How’s your cooking aside from pastrami sandwiches and chicken cordon bleu?”

“I’m a veritable chef,” he says, his voice going husky. “Cereal, macaroni and cheese. I can boil pasta and sauté vegetables if I’m feeling really fancy. And, yes”—his lips twitch—“several chicken dishes that Valencia was very fond of.”

My nose wrinkles at the name.

“Ope,” he says, pointing at my face, and his eyes twinkle mischievously. “Looks like you don’t like when I mention my ex. You’ve got a little crease right here.” He touches the space between my eyes, then cocks an eyebrow. “Are you jealous?”

“Psh,” I say, stepping away as I suddenly realize what we’re doing. This isn’t just flirting—this is heavy-duty, say-things-you-can’t-unsay flirting. The kind that’s bringing a flush to my cheeks and sweat to my palms as my heart flips and trips over itself. “Of course not. Now give me just a second.”To regain my composure.

I go back to the bedroom to grab my purse, taking a few deep breaths and darting into the bathroom to splash some cold water on my face. When I emerge, Dex is standing by the door.

“Ready?” he says.

“Ready.”Or as ready as I’ll ever be.

Thirteen

Maya

The rehearsal lastsan hour and a half, during which I sit in an uncomfortable wooden chair and my butt starts to go numb. Dex is to my left, and to his left is Valencia. I can tell how he feels about this by the way he grimaces and leans a little closer toward me, but Valencia either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. She laughs loudly at things that aren’t funny and touches his arm as much as possible. When the practice ceremony begins, she makes a show of being so touched that she has to rest one hand on Dex’s forearm while she wipes away fake tears with the other hand.

I am not her biggest fan.

I mean, look. Do what you have to do. If you want a man, go get him. But if he’s literally on a date? If he supposedly has a girlfriend? Show some class and leave him alone.

And stop faking emotions. You don’t know these people, Valencia. This is not even the real wedding. It’s the practice. They’re not married yet. Cut it out, and back off my date.

She doesn’t, though, and I’m not surprised. I push aside the small twinges of jealousy I feel—which is just because I’m here with him and it’s rude for her to act this way, not because I actually have feelings for him—and try to focus on the ceremony instead. Since I know exactly nobody here except for Dex, this isn’t easy, and I find my mind wandering. Mostly to Archer, wondering how he’s doing, missing him, wishing I had him with me so I could use him as an excuse to cut out early. Wishing I could hold him close and love on him.

When the practice ceremony is finally over, it’s possible I stand too quickly and too enthusiastically. I practically jump out of my seat, which is a little tacky, but I’m dying to get out of this chair and on to the next portion of this evening. Anything to keep things moving, because the sooner we eat dinner, the sooner we can go back to the room, and the sooner I can FaceTime with Archer and Uncle Frank.

“So…food now?” I say to Dex as he stands up too. The small group is coming alive around us after being silent for so long, milling about and talking to each other.

“I think so,” he says, taking my hand in his. Just like my jealousy earlier, I let go of the little fluttering in my stomach, too. These are dangerous emotions that are trying to come out and play, and I want no part of it.

“All right, everyone,” says Dex’s mom from a few chairs down, clapping her hands loudly. Her name is Nancy, just like my Internet friend’s mom, and for a moment earlier I even wondered—but no. Nancy is probably a common-enough name for women of her generation.

“If we could proceed down the hall to the restaurant, we’ll have dinner together,” she continues. Even though Corbin isn’t her son, she seems to have taken over, or at least taken charge—though I do see a woman who looks very much like the groom talking to him and the bride. So maybe Nancy is just being helpful.

She’s hard to get a read on, really. She clearly wasn’t too crazy about me, but at the same time, I didn’t get the vibe that it was anything personal. More than anything I think she cares about Dex, in her own way, and is trying to do what she thinks is best for him—pushing him toward his ex, in this case. I can’t fault her. I’d do anything for Archer.

With my hand encased in Dex’s, we trail out of our row of chairs and follow the twenty-some people down the hall of the resort and out to the restaurant where we had brunch this morning. The place is empty but for us. Did they rent out the whole place for this dinner? Isn’t that expensive?

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