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“But now that you’ve said something,” he added. “You’ve never told me your favorite book author either.” He grinned. “And don’t say Nora Roberts.”
I recoiled. “Why not?”
“Because that’s a red flag for you,” he replied, still smiling a little. I wondered if he was enjoying this—what was it? An argument? A spat? A quarrel? “It’s... expected.”
“Really?”
“Come on. Tell me who’s your favorite.”
“Um...”
Now Robert threw his head back and laughed. “I knew it. Good old Nora.”
“She’s an amazing writer,” I protested, as if pointing out Nora’s literary merits would bolster my bona fides. “Sold millions of copies for a reason.”
“Just like James Patterson,” he said as the music moved to another song. “See my point?”
“Which is what? I should give you another chance because we both like standard commercial fiction?”
“No,” he said, his attention fixed on me, his eyes dark, his lips pressed together as he shifted forward. “You should give me a chance because—”
He didn’t finish his sentence because the cocktail table gave way.Crash!The legs collapsed, sliding onto the floor, taking the flower arrangement, a few discarded wine glasses, the tablecloth, and us along with it. We landed in a heap, just as the DJ turned off the music and the rest of the wedding guests turned to us in shock. In a flash, the room went totally silent.
“Oh my God,” Robert managed from his spot next to me. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” I stared at the ceiling for a breath, then rolled onto my side and winced. “I landed on my funny bone.”
“What just happened?” Morgan asked, rushing over from the wedding party table. A few other guests followed her lead, gathering around the mess on the floor.
“Nothing. The table broke,” I replied as I got to my knees. Robert offered his hand to help me get up, but I ignored it as I stood, brushing dirt and pieces of the flower arrangement off my dress. Robert followed. “I’m sorry.”
“We’resorry,” he said.
“I didn’t realize you were here yet, Robert,” Morgan replied.
I started. “Hereyet?”
“Yep,” Morgan replied. “I didn’t see him walk in.”
“You look beautiful.” Robert wiped his hands on his tuxedo pants. “And congratulations.”
“I asked the caterer to put a plate together for you in the kitchen.”
I recoiled, finally catching on. “Wait a minute. You knew he was coming?”
A familiar smile pulled at the corners of my best friend’s mouth. She was enjoying this. “Sure did. And after he told me you wouldn’t answer his calls or texts, I figured he should make another attempt at a grand gesture. My wedding reception was the only place I could think of on short notice.”
I marveled at her for a moment. What a nice thing for her to do on such an important day. Except...
“Hold on,” one of the male guests I didn’t know said from the gathered crowd, interrupting my thoughts. Earlier, I heard from some of the bridesmaids that he knew Morgan during college and now lived in Indianapolis. “Aren’t you the two from the viral video? The one on TikTok?”
“Yep,” called Mrs. Peterson, who I hadn’t had a chance to speak with all evening. She swayed against her husband, and I wondered how much of the country club’s open bar had gone down her throat that evening. “That’s them. Robert Kilgore and Anya Post.”
“Pleased to meet you all,” Robert replied. “In case you haven’t had the pleasure of meeting me yet.”
I crossed the small section of the dance floor to Morgan. “This is your big day. I’m sorry to take away from that.”
“You didn’t take away from it,” she insisted. “If anything, this, um,addedto it.”
