Page 63 of Holiday Vibes

I grab the edge to steady it, my heart pounding from the shot of adrenaline.

“Seriously, Blue Steel,” he says, his voice full of warning, “fuck off.”

One step. Two more as I draw my arm back.

I hit him with everything I have.

The crunch under my knuckles is satisfying. The startled gasps of the crowd barely register as pain blooms across my hand. Colton staggers backward, cupping his nose, blood trickling through his fingers.

I shift my stance as I wait for him to come at me. God, Iwanthim to.

His eyes telegraph his attack before he pulls his hand away from his nose. I’m gleeful. I get to hit him again.

Timothy steps in out of nowhere, clotheslining him across the throat when he charges me. Colton goes down on his back, hard.

When I take a step closer, Timothy holds out a warning hand.

A broken nose isn’t enough, but I let it go, shaking out my fist as Timothy hauls Colton to his feet and with the help of Danny, manhandles him through the crowd to the door.

All the eyes in the mostly silent room drift back to me as I scan for Jessie.

She’s at the back of the crowd, her face pale and bewildered.

I take a step toward her before I’m accosted by a flurry of white satin and lace, like some demonic swan.

“You asshole,” Mina says in a low voice. I flinch, turning my head, but not fast enough to avoid the glancing blow of her fist. Momentum throws me back toward the table.

For half a second, I think I might catch myself before the collision.

That doesn’t happen. Instead, the table and I go down with a bang. Along with five tiers of cake, buttercream, and fondant.

Shit.

I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath. How the hell did I get here, to this moment? Sprawled on my back next to a smashed cake. Fighting at my best friend’s wedding.

What if Jessie never talks to me again? Or any of the Foleys. I’m certain Timothy and Jessie took down the cake for one of Celia and William’s milestone anniversaries, but they’re family. I’m not.

A loud clap echoes in the silence. I open my eyes as Mina snaps a photo of me on her phone, her grin wide. Timothy comes our way, clapping loudly over his head, encouraging others to do the same. His drunk-ass high school friends and the handful of stunt crew who flew out for the wedding take the cue.

Hesitantly, a few other guests join in. Hazel lets a whistle rip, and the crowd breaks out in cheers.

The relief pulls the tension out of my body, leaving me sagging over the busted table. I’m not getting disowned. At least not for this. I’ll still have to deal with the publicity nightmare, though Celia’s no phone policy for the guests might limit that damage.

“What was that for?” I ask, rubbing my jaw as Mina stands over me. Thank god she pulled her punch. I’ve seen what this woman can do to a punching bag—if she wanted to hurt me, she would’ve.

Mina jabs a finger at me. “You aren’t supposed to have a date.”

I pull my hand back from my face. There’s buttercream on my fingers. “No shit.” I can’t even say it’s not my fault, because it is. I asked Celia to set me up. I should’ve told Simone up front I couldn’t be her date tonight. “You hit me because I have a date?”

Mina raises an eyebrow and says in a low, threatening tone, “Vegas.”

A laugh breaks out of my chest. I convinced her the best way to get Timothy back after they broke up was to jump off the Strat in Vegas when a phone call would’ve done the trick.

“You,” Timothy says, hauling me to my feet, “cost me twenty bucks. My money was on Jessie breaking that prick’s nose.”

“He’s a creep.” The defensive growl in my voice has everything to do with the mention of Colton, even as Timothy pulls me into an embrace, clapping me hard on the back before letting me go.

“Hey, boys.”

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