Page 34 of Cruel King

“That would be Locke.”

“He’s marrying our sister, but he’s not family yet. Your occasion feels more momentous.”

“Don’t let Margaret hear you say that,” Malcolm grumbled under his breath.

Trent shrugged. “I mean, we always knew Maggie was going to settle down. Shedreamedof weddings. But Gavin?”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m just full of surprises.”

Malcolm quirked an eyebrow. “That’s putting it mildly.”

Trent grabbed a beer and tapped my glass with it. “Happy for you.”

Then, he headed over to the pool table, leaving me and Mal alone.

“He’s right, you know,” Malcolm finally said. He was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We didn’t expect this with you and Whitley. That seemed to happen fast.”

I shrugged, lifting the glass to my lips. “When you know, you know, right?”

Malcolm pursed his lips, as if he’d never considered that before.

“What about you, Mal? I’m the infamous bachelor,” I said with an eye roll. “But you haven’t even been dating.”

This time, Malcolm smirked. “I’ve gotten better at keeping it hidden from our nosy family.”

I arched an eyebrow. “Yeah? You’re seeing someone?”

“You could say that,” he said with a shrug.

“Is she coming to the wedding?”

He shook his head. “I’m not ready for that. I don’t know how you are.”

“You don’t know Whit.”

Malcolm shot me a thoughtful look. Almost as if he was going to say something more. He was the intuitive one. The only one I hadn’t been sure would swallow the pill I was feeding them. But he finally smiled.

“I’m happy for you. Let’s hope it happens to me one day.”

“I’ll drink to that.”

We clinked glasses together to an unknown future. One where we both swore ourselves to another, like Locke was doing this weekend. In my fantasy, I imagined a girl who knew all of my tricks and wanted me for who I was anyway.

10

WHITLEY

Margaret was a riot, and she seemed to have no interest in getting married in a matter of days.

I’d meta lotof brides-to-be. I had sung at weddings in high school, had been a bridesmaid at any number of weddings for my sorority sisters and then as a guest for a lot of my LA clients. I knew a bride who was ready to tie her life to another. This girl seemed more like she was selling her soul to the devil for ten years of good fortune.

“Come on, Whit. One more dance,” Margaret said. She reached for my hand to try to steer me into the chair.

Margaret actuallyhadhired strippers for the party. Or someone had. All the bridesmaids were laughing and dancing on the poles or getting lap dances. I’d been worried about karaoke for nothing. The machine had been discarded for shots and strippers within the hour.

“You take it.” I pushed Margaret into the chair, and a male stripper started gyrating on her.

I took a step back from the fun and gestured to the bartender for waters. Margaret’s younger sister, Cora, had been sitting by the bar with rolled eyes since about the time karaoke had ended.

---