Man, I love weddings.
The excitement all around, the love in the air. Dancing and cake and those delicious potatoes.
The women in beautiful gowns.
Let me reiterate. Just these two women. The hot girl that rocks my world and the tiny princess in snowflake shoes, both crowding the bathroom mirror at the moment while I stand in the doorway admiring them.
Mia squeals in delight as Amber gives her curls one last spritz of hairspray. She jumps down from the little step stool, her shoes making a click-clacking sound when she lands, and turns to me. "What do you think of my hair?"
"Looks perfect, kid," I tell her. "Now do a spin. Let's see the final look."
Mia does a twirl, keeping a close eye on the skirt of her pretty flower girl dress as it flares out before she glances up at me with an explosive smile. She loves this dress.
I give her a thumbs up. "Like I said, perfect."
Amber looks over her shoulder with a smile. "I agree. You look beautiful," she says, her eyes all sparkling with happiness. "Now go get your backpack and make sure your extra outfit is in there. And grab a snack before we go."
"And some sneakers," I add quickly. "Never know if you're gonna need to make a run for it."
With an amused shake of her head, Amber rolls her eyes and Mia skips off laughing. My eyes, on the other hand, zip straight back to the mirror. To the hot girl whose dress is sliding off her shoulder at the moment.
You wanna talk about beautiful? Just fucking bury me because Amber is killing me slowly in this floor length gown, a silky green number with a slit straight up to her thigh, hugging her in all the right places. I want to grab her, run my hands all over her body, but I know well enough after being raised with sisters that you have to tread carefully around women before they've applied the hairspray. So instead, I just run my eyes over her like a damn predator.
"This dress is not cooperating at the top," she mutters, irritated, as she adjusts the material on her shoulder and turns around to face me with a frown.
"Looks good to me." More than good. She's looks fucking edible.
Come here, woman. I'm hungry.
Amber throws her hands on her hips with a boatload of sass and her eyebrows scrunch together. "Tommy," she whines. "My left boob is practically falling out of this dress."
"Is it?" Was hoping you hadn't noticed. I wander over to her, ready to "help" in any way that puts me closer to that amazing wardrobe malfunction but she stops me with a wave of her hand.
"Don't even think about it," she laughs. "I just need to grab some safety pins."
So close. "I'll get them. Where are they?"
"Kitchen. Drawer next to the silverware."
"I'm on it."
Passing by Mia watching cartoons with a pack of pretzels in the living room, I make my way to the junk drawer that Amber refuses to call a junk drawer, even though that's exactly what it is.
I spot the safety pins right away, grabbing them up and giving the box a little shake for absolutely no other reason than to hear the tiny tinking sound they make. But before I push the drawer shut and head back to the bathroom, my eyes catch the familiar, bright colors of a Food Snap rewards card. It's the kind that hangs on your keychain, bent and scratched from wear and tear, the edges frayed from being well-used.
It makes me smile, sends me right back to my hometown as my eyes survey the name of the old grocery store chain in upstate New York, the place everyone shops in Oakwood.
I still have my own rewards card in my wallet and seeing Amber's right now just serves as a sweet reminder of how closely knit the two of us have been over the years without even realizing it. The fact that these cards are useless in this part of the country and yet, we both have one in our possession, serves as a testament to the path each of our lives has taken. A journey that has managed to land us in the same place twice.
Upon closer examination, I can see the card is sitting in a small pile of what looks to be the discarded remnants of an old wallet or a cleared out purse. You know, the stuff junk drawers are made of. There's an insurance card, a few receipts, Amber's expired New York driver's license with a hole punched through it and a fucking cute photo of her, if I do say so myself.
My fingers sift through the other items, not trying to root through her shit right now but overcome by a smooth blend of nostalgia and curiosity. My heart rate picks up slightly at the sight of what they find next. Another card, one more familiar to me than the grocery rewards card will ever be.
Linda's contact card. Linda Casavelli, the front desk clerk at the Oakwood Police Department. It's the business card I gave Amber that first night I met her on Fairview Street, the call that's infiltrated my heart and mind ever since. The call that changed my life. My chest tightens at the memory. The fear in her eyes that night, the plea I tried to send her with my own look, hoping she'd use the card, praying she'd make contact and ask for help if she ever needed it.
"Did you find them?" Amber's silky voice pulls me back to the present as she comes up beside me at the counter, inquiring about the safety pins I've taken too fucking long to return with. From the corner of my eye, I see her shoulders sink a little when they see Linda's business card in my hand and she sighs, "Oh."
I hold it up, look over at her. "You kept it."
"I did," she says with a nod, her caramel eyes loading up with emotion.
My gaze falls back on the card, the flimsy cardstock flipping anxiously between my fingers. "You never used it."
Amber reaches down, taking the card from my fidgety hand and dropping it back in the drawer before pushing it shut. She leans against the counter. "Actually, I did," she says as she lifts her head to look at me.
My eyes meet hers, shocked. Confused. "What?"
She tucks a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "It was, um... maybe a year and a half after you came to the house? It was a particularly..." She pauses, swallowing hard before she gathers herself and goes on, "It was a rough night, one of the worst." She clears her throat and looks down at the floor. "I called and I... I asked for you. And they said you weren't there anymore."
I wasn't there anymore? When was this?
Oh.
I shift my body to stand in front of her, my hands finding her waist. "I was here," I mutter, half distracted as my mind does the math on my departure from New York, my arrival in California.
Amber raises her eyes to mine, glistening with unshed tears. "You were here," she whispers with a tiny, wistful smile. All at once, she shakes her head back and forth and her next words rush out as she adds, "I never called again."
Fuck. "Why?"
She takes a deep breath and looks off to the side. "I didn't think anyone else would see me like you did that night." Just like so many other moments I spend in her presence, I'm struck speechless by her words, left staring back at her as her hands run along my chest and another smile forms on her lips, a happier one this time.
"You're here now. That's all that matters," she adds softly, grabbing the safety pins and placing them in my hand. Her voice is lively and bright as she handily changes the subject, "Now, will you please help me with this flashing problem I seem to be having? We'll be taking pictures as soon as we get there and I can't show up like this."
"Good point." I laugh with her, leaving behind the thoughts of pain and regret from the past as I join her in the present. Because she's right, this is the part that matters.
She holds the top of her dress in place as I carefully secure a couple of safety pins and pull things together, making her appropriate for the bridesmaid duties of the day. When I'm done, I look her over, inspecting my work. Mission accomplished.
"Your turn," I tell her, doing a little spin motion into the air with my finger, letting her know I'll be requiring the full 360 on this killer dress she's got on. "Let's see the final look."
Her eyes roll dramatically but I know she loves it and I get to watch in wonder as she twirls. My eyes roam her body, lingering on her ass for a hot second before she makes her way back around to face me. That's when the best part comes, getting lost in the strength behind her eyes, the power in her smile. The realization that I'm literally living a dream come true.
"Perfect," I tell her. "You're fucking perfect."
._._._.
I've attended my fair share of weddings and, I have to say, this little lowkey, backyard affair is by far the most enjoyable. The whole atmosphere is so chill.
Trevor is spinning his stunning bride on the makeshift patio dance floor like they're the only two people in the world, despite being surrounded by other dancers and onlookers from the tables around them, everyone watching them with gooey eyes.
Yes, myself included. Weddings make me emotional. There's happiness all over the place, beaming through the soft twinkle lights and delicately strung through all the vines of greenery decorating the tables. It's alive in Trevor's face as he stares adoringly into Lacy's eyes, heard through her laughter as he whispers something in her ear. So much happiness. You can't even tell her dinner made her cry.
They were tears of joy, by the way. She liked the way the caterer arranged the vegetables on her plate. Pregnancy has apparently done strange things to Lacy's already quirky personality.
Amber slides into her chair beside me and reaches for my hand on top of the table as Mia trails behind her, climbing onto Ed's lap. When the song changes to one that Mia apparently loves, she jumps up and insists on a dance with her Grandpa. He happily obliges and Amelia leaves the table next, escorted onto the dance floor by Joe, Amber's twin that I finally got to meet today.
I give Amber's hand a squeeze. "You want to dance?"
"Not just yet," she smiles, her eyes travelling to her family all dancing together a few feet away from us. "Even though we all just saw each other at Christmas, I feel like it's been so long since everyone was together like this and sharing an actually sweet moment. I'm enjoying the happy view."
I nod, understanding the sentiment all too well. After finding out last week that Harper actually went to see our dad in prison and it went surprisingly well, as Sadie says, my own family's moment of sweet togetherness feels like it just got a little bit closer. I'm sure that day is a long way off and whatever the future holds, specifically where my dad is concerned, remains pretty blurry but I'll tell you what, I'm running on a lot of hope these days. And it's not just because I'm watching a couple of happy newlyweds in a blissful slow dance.
Although it does help. Weddings tend to overflow in hope, after all.
Draping an arm over Amber's shoulder, I tip my chin in Trevor and Lacy's direction. "Is that gonna be us one day?"
She turns and looks at me, her lips parting just slightly as she studies my face. I hold her eyes, staring her down to let her know yes, I'm seriously asking that.
"I hope so," she whispers after a pause, sending me a smile that makes me fucking weak.
She feels it, too. Hope.
Her head lands on my shoulder and I wrap my arm around a little tighter around her, smiling as we catch Mia stepping up onto Ed's feet, the twinkle lights reflecting off of her shiny snowflake shoes as they sway back and forth in the moonlight.
I drop a kiss to the side of Amber's face before leaning in close to her ear. "Are you ready to admit I nailed it with the snowflake shoes?"
Her laugh vibrates against me. "You got lucky, Iceman. They just happened to be the right color. Never mind that they have snowflakes on them..." She pauses and her shoulders lift with a shrug. "To be honest though, Lacy and Trevor have done everything backwards since the very beginning, it's actually pretty fitting that Mia's got snowflakes on her shoes at their spring wedding."
"See? I told you."
She nudges me in the ribs so, naturally, I retaliate by reaching across her lap and sliding my hand onto her thigh under the table. All I intended to do was tickle her but then, I'm reminded of that glorious slit in her gown and the easy access it provides as the material falls completely out of my way.
My plans change.
When I slide my hand a little further down, chasing that heat between her legs, those caramel eyes shoot over to me and she inhales a sharp breath. "Tommy," she warns. But even as her voice fills with alert, her body responds with desire and her legs part. My fingers venture in, just far enough to feel...
Wait a minute.
My hand freezes where it is as Amber clears her throat. Her eyes drift off to the side, avoiding mine at all costs and her cheeks flame a pretty pink color.
They're doing that because she's not wearing any fucking underwear.
She shrugs, shooting me the sweetest, most innocent look. "What? They weren't suitable with the style of this dress," she laughs. Sure they weren't. And I'm about to tell her that when she flies to her feet and reaches for my hand. "Let's go."
"Lead the way," I tell her, stifling a laugh as we dip around the patio and sneak inside the house.
She drags me through the dining room, down a short hallway, and into a bathroom. The door closes and she's up against the wall, mouth attached to mine. Her tongue is halfway down my throat and my hands are glued to those perky tits I love when it occurs to me that this wedding is being held at a house and we're in someone's bathroom. Like, people live here.
I pull our mouths apart. "Whose house is this?"
"Uhm..." Amber looks around, breathing heavily. She's looks confused and I'm not sure if it's because she doesn't know the answer to my question or she's wondering why the fuck I'm asking. "Lacy's friend's... parents' house I think? I don't fucking know anything right now," she laughs, running her hand along the front of my dress pants as her tongue glides along my neck. Before long, I feel her hot breath at my ear. "Why does it matter? Did you forget that you just had your hand between my legs and I wasn't wearing anything under this dress?"
I'm back. Dropping to the floor, I push that shiny green material aside, coming face to face with my next meal. And would you look at that, it appears that dessert is on the menu. I lift her leg onto my shoulder and go to town.
"Oh fuck." Amber moans and I hear her hand smack over her mouth with a gasp. Cute.
As my mouth works over her slick folds, devouring the sweetness of her arousal, her fingers grip my hair and her hips thrust forward and back, matching the steady rhythm of my tongue as I devour her. Fuck, she tastes good. I could do this all day.
She lets out a breathy moan as she comes and the feeble restraint in her voice as she tries to keep quiet ignites my insides. There's just something exciting about fucking where you shouldn't be, isn't there?
I keep my face buried between her legs, knowing the sensations are driving her mad as she tries to clamp her thighs shut on me, her whole body still trembling from her release.
"Tommy, get up here and fuck me," Amber whispers on a frustrated laugh.
I come to my feet, putting her out of her misery, if that's what you'd even call it. She makes quick work of my pants and I lift her up. Her legs wrap around me like that's where they belong until the end of time and a jolt of electricity shoots through my body, my cock jumps like it's begging to be inside her already. I know the feeling. And I'm pretty sure Amber does, too.
Let's make everyone happy, shall we?
._._._.
Fifteen minutes later, we're strolling into the backyard again, rejoining the party as casually as if we were just stepping out to grab something from the car, not banging in the bathroom like a couple of horny teenagers.
Is this really my life? I can't believe that this is my life.
Everyone seems to be exactly as we left them, having fun on the dance floor or laughing and enjoying themselves at the tables. The only difference is that some of them are eating cake.
"Looks like we missed dessert," Amber frowns.
Cue the devious smirk. "Speak for yourself, baby."
She gives me a shove. "You want me to see if I can track down a slice of cake? Some actual dessert?"
Pass. No cake on the planet will taste as sweet as what I just had. That being said...
"I'm actually still thinking about those potatoes."
She laughs. "You and those damn potatoes."
"What? They're delicious."
"I'll get you some while I grab a drink," she says, running her hand through my hair as I take a seat at our table. "Then you owe me a dance."
Deal.
She returns in record time with a pile of buttery potatoes for me and a slice of wedding cake for herself. As I dive into my own plate, I keep my eyes on her, enjoying the way she looks when she eats, the smile on her face as the cake hits her taste buds, the little dance she does when the sugar starts coursing through her veins. Everything she does is fascinating and sweet.
I'm shoveling potatoes into my mouth while the fingers of my free hand graze her back, running along the silky material I can't seem to get enough of. It's almost as soft as her skin. Almost.
Amber gives me a little smile and our eyes lock. The music playing around us and the way she's looking at me right now is making me feel some type of way. I know I was just alone with her, getting busy in a stranger's bathroom, but this look is different. The way her caramel eyes are piercing through mine, powerful but soft. They're not rushed and hungry like they were in the house. They're slow, quiet. Content. Sweet. I think I already said she's sweet.
I can't wait to get her on the dancefloor. But all at once, her phone vibrating against the wooden table breaks us out of our reverie and we both jolt, looking down at it.
She picks it up, reading something on the screen and I watch her brows knit together with concern.
"What is it?"
Her eyes lift to meet mine. "It's a text," she mutters, pausing for a second before adding, "From Vince."
Sounds about right. This day was going too well.
Shit, the last several weeks have been going well. Funny how that happens when the trash skips town. I should have known it was only a matter of time. I honestly thought we'd hear from him sooner.
I reach for Amber's phone and she hands it to me, letting me read the message.
Tell your brother I said congrats on his happy day.
What?
After staring at the screen for a few extra seconds, my face emits its own later of concern as I glance up at Amber. "That's fucking weird. When was the last time he reached out?"
Amber's head shakes slowly. "Months," she says. "He hasn't called Mia since before the holidays."
Detective mode activated.
My eyes travel back down to the message. "He definitely got the divorce papers, right?"
"Yeah. He never made contact about them."
"Any reason he would know about Trevor's wedding? I can't see them having many friends in common."
Amber shrugs. "Internet? Social media? I really don't know, honestly."
Good point. Hadn't even thought of that.
I shoot her a quick smile in admiration, distracted for a hot second by her detective skills. I'm rubbing off on her.
Fuck the internet though, man. This is exactly why I hate social media. The shit I learned at that stupid cyber convention a few months back shook me up. You can find out way too much online these days.
And what kind of weirdo cryptic message is this anyhow?
"That's really fucking weird," I repeat under my breath.
Amber's sigh drags my attention back to her face. "Just ignore it," she waves at her phone in my hand. "He rarely makes sense when he's been drinking. And given that it's, what..." She leans over to check the time on the phone before going on, "Midnight in New York? He's probably drunk off his ass somewhere. Don't let him ruin our day. Hurry up with your potatoes so we can dance."
She gives me that sweet smile and I can't help returning it. She's right. We don't need to let anything ruin this happy day. I set the phone down, commanding my detective brain to cease and desist as I look at her and get lost in her pretty eyes instead.
A tap on my shoulder draws my gaze from Amber to the tiny version of her that just emerged from the dance floor, snowflake shoes shining in the twinkle lights.
Speaking of sweet...
Mia's brownish green eyes are beaming at me as I turn my full attention to her and she asks, "May I have this dance?"
Holy shit, my chest. What were we even talking about a minute ago?
I look over at Amber. Her own eyes are wide with delight and she practically pouts at the cuteness in front of us, Mia's flower girl dress swishing around in the light breeze, her tiny hand extended as she asks me for a dance.
"I'm not sure I can compete with that, Tommy," Amber whispers, letting me know it's a-okay if Mia steals her dance.
My glance shifts back to the little lady in question and I come to my feet. "I'd love to dance."
And that's what we do. We dance. Mia shows me all the new moves her Grandpa taught her and she twirls around, showing off that dress she loves so much. When the song ends and the next begins, she calls her mom over and Amber joins us, holding the delicate material of her gown up as she hurries across the grass to get to us, grabbing Mia's other hand and leaning against me as she matches the rhythm of the music streaming all around us.
That warm feeling from earlier today in the kitchen hits me again. This is all that matters.
If you'd have asked me a year ago if I thought this was where I'd be right now, spinning two beautiful girls on a dancefloor as they giggle and sing out loud to the lyrics of a love song, I probably would have laughed like a fool or told you to take a hike. Because this, what I'm experiencing right now, really is the type of shit that dreams are made of and I didn't know this stuff actually came true.