Page 15 of Wicked Pickle

Dad is with her, and if pissed were a picture, it would have his mug in the frame.

“I didn’t realize Rhett had invited you,” Mom says. “And certainly not that you had RSVP’d. That would have been big family news.”

I don’t answer any of that. Every word feels like a trap.

“Son,” Dad says, his voice sharp.

He means to make me answer, but I have zero intention of doing so. There’s no explaining that I cut a woman out of her underclothes in my bar and ended up on the wrong end of blackmail.

I don’t have that much beef with Mom and Dad, other than they were ready to turn me over to the meat grinder of Pickle, Inc. It’s not like I never called. Merrick and I told them we had joined the Army.Afterwe shipped out to basic.

And we sent Christmas packages from Afghanistan back in the day.

We just never went home.

We chose Miami after two tours because we used to vacation here. Mom and Dad live in Jersey. So does my sister Greta and her husband and kid.

But I’m realizing there must be a Pickle outpost in Miami. That’s probably where Bailey met my cousin.

I’ve walked straight into the belly of the beast.

Or got dragged here. Did Bailey know? Was the whole bachelorette party a plan to reunite the lost sheep of the Pickle family?

Now I’m fucking pissed. I’m ready to drag all those girls out by their rhinestone earrings and force them to fess up.

But that won’t solve this problem. My parents are right here.

“You’re sitting with me,” Mom says, linking her arm through mine. “Come along, look, there are the bridesmaids ready to go in.”

She’s right. The whole Easter-egg line of them is approaching from the hall in pink, yellow, and blue. Symphony leads two little kids.

She spots me, and her gaze shifts to confusion as she takes in Mom’s arm through mine.

So,shedidn’t know I had family here. That’s something.

I want to see Bailey’s expression, but she’s farther down the hall in the shadows.

“Come along,” Mom insists. “Everyone is going to be tickled pink.”

Dad comes up behind me as if to ensure I don’t break away. I walk Mom up the aisle.

A lot of faces turn my way. I don’t know anyone in the back, but as we get closer to the front, I see the whole Pickle clan hasshowed up. The other cousins. Jason, Max, Anthony. They all have women with them.

Then there’s Uncle Sherman.

He nudges his mother. My throat tightens at spotting Grammy Alma. I’ve missed her. Merrick and I sneaked up to see her at the deli shortly after Sunny married that prince. We knew she’d be lonely without our sister, who’d helped her all those years.

Her whole face lights up upon spotting me. “Dean Sawyer!” she whispers hoarsely. Okay, maybe all of them are going to use my full birth name. Figures.

On the other side of her is my sister Greta, with her useless husband Jude. I’ve never met him, but Grammy was worried when they got married, and Grammy loves everybody.

Their kid isn’t with them, and I realize the boy with Symphony was probably my nephew Caden. It makes sense that he’s the ring bearer.

The front row has Ronan and Caprice, my aunt and uncle, parents of all the cousins up front. They turn, their expressions shifting with surprise when they realize who I am.

“Sit here,” Mom says, pushing me onto the row with Greta. My sister scoots over so I can sit between her and Grammy rather than next to my parents.

She always was an all-right sibling. Mom and Dad move past Jude.

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