Page 110 of Lavender and Lightning

Sam gives me a pat on the shoulder. “I do appreciate you being here, Lydia. I know it’s never been easy with you and…” He breaks off and gestures vaguely down the line. “But I’d like to talk more, after things settle down a little. I have a feeling that there’s a side to everything I’m missing.”

I can’t help but sag in relief before lunging forward and hugging Sam around the neck. I’m careful to avoid his boutonniere, but I can’t help it. Adam would never understand, but hearing my oldest brother say he’s willing to hear my side of the story after years of believing the lie, it feels better than I could have ever dreamed.

Thankfully, Sam is at the end of the line, and the doors to the house stand open. I hook my arm around Rhett’s again.

“Let’s get something to drink,” I say with an exhale.

He chuckles and leads me into the interior, following the flow toward the bar. The rest of the night will be relatively simple, just making sure we keep track of Darren and avoid being caught in a conversation with my mother. Liquid courage will go a long way to making the time fly by.

forty-seven

Rhett

Lex: How’s it going?

Me: Had to think fast to keep him away from her. Who does a receiving line in this day and age?

Lex: The old guard of Southern matrons. How’s she doing?

Me: Fine for the moment. They stopped Caleb at the gate.

Lex: I know. He texted earlier. I tried contacting the venue, but no one is answering. Don’t take risks, Rhett.

Me: Why does everyone assume I’m going to be the one to start something?

Lex: Because we know you. And we know how far you’ll go to keep your loved ones safe.

Me: Point made and taken.

Islidemyphoneback into the inside pocket of my jacket, lifting my glass of bourbon to take a sip. My other hand tightens on Lydia’s lower back, just reassuring myself she’s still there. She slides a little closer around the back of the cocktail table we’re standing at, keeping it between us and the rest of the room. I’d nabbed this spot so we could keep a distance from the crowd while still being able to keep an eye out for Darren.

Darren McLaughlin.

I’d never asked Lydia what he looked like, just out of respect. I was expecting someone a little more like Seth, not someone who I could probably bench press. He might be hiding muscle under his cheap suit, but he doesn’t strike me as the type to go to the gym.

But there was something undeniably sinister about the way he looked at Lydia throughout the entire ceremony. While everyone else was focused on the bride and groom, Darren didn’t look away from Lydia. She did a good job either ignoring him, or simply not noticing his leering, but I certainly did. There was nothing but cold possession and deep, calculating rage.

So when it came time to walk that God damn receiving line, I made sure that Lydia was nowhere near him. Even when he tried to grab my arm and pull us back, I kept moving. If we could get through this night without him even getting within arm’s reach of her, then I’d consider it a success.

Lydia disengages from her latest conversation with a relative, artfully dodging personal questions about where she’s been for the last almost five years. She’s on her third drink, but I’m still nursing my first. I need to keep my head on straight, but I can understand why Lydia needs the alcohol. I also don’t have the heart to tell her ‘no’ right now, not after everything we’ve been through. I’ve been introduced to more aunts, uncles, cousins, and in-laws than I could count, and I’m about ready to lose it.

“If everyone could please grab their last drink and then make their way to the ballroom. We’re going to be closing the bar for a while for speeches and first dances. Dinner will be passed plates, so feel free to stop any of our staff to try a little of what they’ve got.”

I hum thoughtfully after the announcement, looking down at Lydia. She throws back the rest of her cocktail before sighing. Her scent is still floral forward, with just a hint of burnt sugar, though I don’t suspect anyone who doesn’t know Lydia as well as I do would pick up on it.

“Let’s go before the good spots are taken,” she says, a definite drag to her words.

“We’ll stay until the dancing starts and then we can go home,” I remind her.

“Hopefully, the food is good. I’ve never heard of passed plates for dinner before,” she says, accepting my arm as I offer it to her.

“Me either. If it works, we might be able to talk Lex into researching if it’ll work for our venues,” I reply, happy to talk about something other than the elephant dick in the room.

The conversation continues as we head into the ballroom, and I have to admit that I’m impressed. Instead of the large eight seat tables, there are small four-person tables scattered throughout the open, airy space. Lydia and I make a beeline to one of the half-booth tables in the corner, happy to stay out of the central room for the time being. The table next to us fills up with two younger couples that seem to know each other, though Lydia gives no sign of recognition.

The wait staff circulates, and the small-serving dishes all taste incredible. It’s a mix of wedding staples like pasta and potatoes, along with Southern comfort food like jambalaya and seafood. The food stops for a moment as the wedding party makes their entrance, dispersing among the crowd rather than sitting at a designated table. Jason finds his way to us, giving the fourth chair to another table so no one else can join us. Lydia sits as close as she can to me without being in my lap, though I’m sorely tempted. I have to remind myself our mission is to keep Darren from starting a scene, not antagonize him.

The atmosphere is lively and relaxed, the bride and groom able to eat and make the rounds thanks to not needing to be tied down to a special table. If my plan for our next project works out, then this could be exactly what could set it apart. Lydia seems to be thinking the same, judging by the way she’s observing everything with that excited twinkle in her eye that I adore so much.

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