Page 60 of Tangled Up

Jason stuck out his arm to escort me. “Hey, you.”

“Hey, you,” I echoed, wrapping my hand around his bicep.

He slanted his chin down to my distinctly naked forearm. “How long was it before she noticed the dragon?”

“A few hours, longer than I thought it would take.”

“She was probably preoccupied,” he said, waving at a few people, “being her wedding day and all.”

“Though she had enough time to supervise the alcohol scrubbing.”

“The next one will have to be permanent, I guess,” he replied, moving his arm so he could hold my hand.

I laced my fingers with his and tipped my head back. “I would have to lose an awfully big bet for that.”

He arched an eyebrow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Inside, there was a short photo session with the bridal party on the carved white staircase, and I molded myself to Jason’s side, smiling at the camera. A few weeks ago, I never would have guessed I’d be attending another one of my mother’s weddings. Especially next to this blond and blue-eyed rascal of a man, yet in this moment, tucked up against him with his fingertips drawing circles against my spine, there was nowhere else I wanted to be.

Inside the reception, Mr. and Mrs. Santos had an intricately choreographed number for their first dance to “This Will Be” by Natalie Cole, and Jason bowed his head down to my ear, whispering, “He’s surprisingly light on his feet.”

“It must be all the flexibility he gained in yoga class.”

“If that’s true, call me Fred Astaire.”

I elbowed his side. In return, he wrapped an arm around my waist, holding me tight so I couldn’t do it again then placed a kiss behind my ear.

When the dance ended, everyone took their seats except for Jason, who picked up his water glass as the MC passed him the microphone. “Many of you know me, but a few of you may not. I’m Jason, the best man, and I’m grateful you could all be here to celebrate this special day with Frank and Caroline. I have put up with this…” He motioned toward Frank, who smiled in delight.

“Put up with that son of a bitch!” someone shouted from the back, and the guests all laughed at the suggestion, but Jason continued with a shake of his head.

“No. I’ve put up with this guy for over fifteen years now, talking about the great love of his life.” He took a few seconds to scan the room, dazzling the guests with his smile. Me included. “Sandy was Frank’s first wife, as most of you know, and sadly passed away too early. But fortunately for me, I was taken into his care a few months later and became the great love of his life.” He waited until the cheers subsided to go on. “Gemma read a poem about hoping for enough trials to make you strong and sorrow to make you human. Frank, you have had enough of both.”

His voice broke as he gestured to his friend and adopted father, and I reached out, hanging on to his suit jacket. It wasn’t enough comfort, but it was some, at least.

I’d never lost anyone I was close to but recognized how he struggled—still—with the reverberations of it. I pictured Jason as a young boy with his parents, and I wondered if his father was the first one to teach him how to play basketball, if his mother sang to him at night. And I imagined what it might feel like to have all that gone in an instant. How easy it might have been for a young teenage boy to cling to the things he could control and create a perfect image of himself to hide the raw, broken bits inside.

Everybody protected themselves in different ways. I did it by pushing people away before they could get too close. Jason did it by showing the world howfinehe was.

So, I offered him the only thing I could in that moment—myself.

“I’m so grateful for everything you’ve given me,” Jason said. “You deserve to have all the happiness in the world, and I’m so glad you have found the woman who knows how perfectly imperfect life can be. I hope that one day I will be as in love as you two are.” He lifted his glass. “To Mr. and Mrs. Santos.”

Frank strode over to him, throwing his big arms around Jason’s neck, saying something only they could hear. Jason nodded a few times and swiped at his eyes with his index fingers before sitting back down at the table. I wiped uselessly at my own cheeks, and he unfolded a napkin to dry my tears.

“I never thought you’d be the type to cry at weddings,” he said, and I let out a blubbery giggle.

“I never thoughtyou’dbe the type to cry at weddings. Your speech was really good.”

“I said what I felt.” His winter-snow eyes pinned me, stealing my breath. “You and that poem inspired me.”

I fiddled with the napkin, finding a few mascara marks on it. “Do I look a mess?”

“Absolutely not. In fact—” he grabbed my hands and steered me to the dance floor “—I think you look—” he spun me under his arm before placing his left hand on my back “—like a sun goddess.”

I laughed as he led me into a simple two-step. “Where’d you learn to dance so well, Fred?”

“I’m not usually. Must be my partner.”

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