Page 2 of Did I Mention it’s 10 Years Later?
There are three glasses of champagne in front of me. Threefullglasses of champagne, and with every moment that passes, the more noticeable it’s becoming that I haven’t taken a single sip. I really wish Ella would stop bringing me more. I mean, I get it – it’s free booze and of course we should make the best of it. But, inside, I am begging for the champagne flutes to stop piling up.
We’re only one hour into my stepbrother Chase’s engagement party, but already the open bar has everyone tipsy. Suited bartenders are handing out champagne and bottles of beer as though there’s no tomorrow and the music – a breezy mix of pop and chart music – is loud enough while still allowing us to hold conversations. The venue has been set out with huge circular tables and everyone is mingling around them. There’s a lot of people here – mostly Chase’s friends.
I can see Chase, now, talking to some of his old friends from high school, champagne in hand and a dopey grin on his face. His new fiancé, Liam, leans into him. Neither of them has stopped smiling as they work their way around the room, talking to each guest. They got engaged while on vacation in Mexico City last month and Ella’s mind has already been running wild with ideas for the wedding.
“They should have a champagne fountain at the reception. Specifically,thischampagne,” my stepmother muses, taking another swig from her glass. She was giddy before the booze even started being served, high on the excitement. I raise an eyebrow at her across the table. “What? I have threesons, Eden.I always assumed I wouldn’t ever be needed for any wedding planning.”
Oh, Ella. I laugh and instinctively reach out to grab my drink, but then quickly retract my hands to my lap instead. I anxiously twist my engagement ring around my finger, playing with my wedding ring too. I can’t stop tapping my foot beneath the table. The closer Chase is getting to our table, the more I’m worrying. I don’t want him to realize that his brother hasn’t shown up yet.
Whereishe?
“Do you know this is making me feel incredibly old?” Rachael says as she returns to our table, two glasses of champagne in her hands. She sinks down into a chair and eyeballs me through thick eyelash extensions.
Our table is small – only Ella, Rachael and me for now. My other stepbrother, Jamie, slipped outside for a cigarette a minute ago, and God only knows where my father has disappeared to.
“Chase is gettingmarried,”Rachael continues, as dramatic as always. It’s the one thing about her that hasn’t changed over the past decade, no matter how old we get. “The little kid who lived across the street from my childhood home, the one who used to run across his front yard naked in the summer. Do you remember that, Ella?”
“He was always such a streaker,” Ella says with a chuckle.
“And here I am, drinking this fine champagne at his engagement party,” Rachael continues, slowly exhaling as though she can’t believe it. She gives my collection of champagne glasses a pointed nod. “Don’t you like it?”
“Oh, I do. I just–” I swallow and grab a glass, then press it to my lips that are sealed tightly shut, pretending to take a sip so that they have no reason to question me. “I’m just distracted. I’m waiting for–”
“He’sstillnot here?” Ella asks, cutting me off. Her head swivels around fast as though she’s searching the venue for her missing son, like she totally forgot he hadn’t shown up yet. How many glasses has she drunk? She purses her lips in disapproval. “That job is starting to take over his life.”
“He said something about interviewing job applicants,” I tell her with a sigh, because at this point, I’m growing more agitated every minute. We were supposed to come to this partytogether. He promised he wouldn’t get tied up at work, but it seems like he has. Maybe I should call him.
“At least your husband is in the vicinity,” Rachael snorts. “Mine is working in Phoenix for the weekend, which only makes me look like some single childhood neighbor who’s about to get crazy drunk.”
Then, finally, out of the corner of my eye I see him.
With Jamie by his side, he walks into the cocktail bar, gaze already searching the crowd for me. He’s wearing the pants and shirt I looked out for him earlier and he rubs anxiously at the stubble that neatly lines his jaw.
My husband, Tyler, at last.
Tyler
My eyes meet hers.
Eden’s sitting at a table across the room, shooting me an intense look that appears to be a mixture of reliefandfrustration. She looks as stunning as ever as she stands from her chair to wave me over. Her dark hair is loosely curled, her lips are painted red, and she’s wearing the most gorgeous red satin dress that hugs her body in all the right ways. If I’d finished work on time and arrived home to find her looking like that, then we would havebothbeen late to this party.
“This music seriously sucks. I’m gonna grab a beer,” Jamie grumbles from my side. “You want one? It’s free.”
I hold up a hand, my attention still fastened only on my wife. “I’m good.”
Jamie disappears to the bar and I realize that Eden isn’t alone at the table – she’s sitting with Rachael Rivera andmy mother.I blink fast, shaking away the risqué thoughts running through my mind, and make my way over. I should probably catch up with Chase first, but Eden looks desperate for me to join her, and given that I’m an hour late, I owe it to her to get my ass over to that table ASAP.
When I reach her, I put my hands on her waist and pull her in close, my fingertips brushing against the silky satin of her dress. “I am so sorry,” I apologize, burying my face into the crook of her neck. I can smell that perfume again, the one that lingered in the air of our home.
Eden loosely wraps an arm around the back of my neck, hugging me back. “You had around thirty seconds before I started blowing up your phone.”
We pull away from one another and our eyes lock. I run my hand down her back, feeling the dip of her spine, and a smile toys at my lips. I miss those hazel eyes of hers every hour that we’re apart. “You look . . .”
“Mr. Tyler Bruce,” Mom says sternly, cutting me off. I glance over and she’s waving a champagne flute at me in disapproval, her hand movements shaky. Is she drunk? I have no idea. “You’re late for your brother’s engagement party.”
“Hi, Mom,” I say, taking a deep breath and giving her a quick nod of acknowledgment. “Rachael.”
Rachael gives me a little wave and then starts picking at the bowl of nuts in the center of the table. I don’t see Stephen anywhere.
