Page 147 of Play Fake
“No,” Claire says sharply, but not unkindly. “You’re trying to make a scene at my wedding.” She folds her hands in front of her, posture all bride-queen authority. “You had months to talk about Zach. You had years to control what we did. But tonight?You can either find your seats and enjoy the reception, or you can leave.”
The air goes still.
Mom blinks like she’s been slapped. Dad’s mouth opens, then closes.
Claire gives them a tight, polite smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Those are the options. Your call.”
After a tense beat, Dad clears his throat and mutters something about “finding their table.” They retreat toward the far side of the tent, Mom still throwing me one last pointed look over her shoulder.
I let out a shaky breath I didn’t realize I was holding.
Claire looks at me, her expression softening immediately. “You okay?”
I nod slowly. “Yeah. I think so.”
Her gaze shifts to Beck, who’s still standing beside me. “Glad you could make it,” she says with a small smile.
He grins back. “Wouldn’t have missed it. Congratulations.”
Claire squeezes my hand before floating back into the crowd like the composed, no-nonsense bride she is.
I turn to Beck, and the look on his face is pure, quiet support.
“I think I love your sister,” he murmurs. “But remind me to never get on her bad side.”
“Yeah,” I breathe, a laugh slipping out. “Me too.”
Just as dessert plates are cleared and the dance floor starts filling up again, Beck’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and his expression tightens instantly.
My stomach sinks. “Logan?”
He nods, already swiping to open the message. His eyes move across the screen slowly, jaw clenching.
I lean closer, keeping my voice low. “What does it say?”
He exhales through his nose, eyes still on the screen. “He’s at his buddy Cam’s place near campus until Monday. That’s when he can get in to see the orthopedic surgeon.” He swallows hard. “ACL, MCL, and meniscus. Triple tear.”
I whisper, “Oh, Beck…”
He locks the phone and rubs a hand over his jaw. For a second, his mask slips just enough for me to see the weight behind his eyes.
“That’s…a career changer,” he says quietly, not to me exactly, but to the space between us.
I reach for his hand under the table. He squeezes back, his thumb running over my knuckles once like he needs the anchor.
“He’ll have you,” I say softly. “Whatever happens. He’ll have you.”
Beck nods slowly, his throat bobbing. “Yeah. Yeah, he will.”
The band shifts into their final set, and Claire and her new husband appear at the entrance of the tent, hands intertwined, ready for the send-off. Guests gather outside with sparklers in hand, the air cool and crisp. Beck and I stand shoulder to shoulder, the glow of the sparklers reflecting in his eyes. Claire beams as she and her husband run through the tunnel of light, laughter echoing behind them as the car pulls away into the night.
For a moment, it’s just the two of us at the edge of the crowd, a little bubble of quiet amid the celebration.
I turn to him. “Hey,” I say softly. “We actually have a room here tonight. Claire wanted me to have a place to stay in case things ran late.”
He blinks, surprised. “You do?”
I nod, trying—and failing—to fight the blush creeping up my neck. “Yeah. And…if you wanted to stay…I mean, you don’t have to drive back tonight.”
