Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66267 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
No.
Seeing him face to face with his light scruff covered complexion glowing bright like I’ve spent weeks falling for and tattooed Greek God approved body practically bursting out of its confines to be touched by me has me quietly complaining, “CheeseandRembrandt, how is it breaking up with me made you look even sexier?”
“I could say the same thing about you, June Bug.”
“No, you can’t. Because I didn’t break up with you. And I didn’t do a Tuxedo Mask transformation to show up and defend your honor from blind bouncers or whatever.”
He briefly presses his lips together yet afterward asks, “Can we talk for alone for a minute?”
Thankfully, I don’t have to find an excuse to say no courtesy of an overly excited, slightly inebriated older couple, “There’s our grandson!”
“Gram!” Tucker cheerfully acknowledges. “Gramps!”
“Tuck!” the white-haired man states in return, non-champagne holding hand pulling him for a tight squeeze. “Cuttin’ it kind of close, aren’t you, pal?”
“Oooo, our boy always does,” the short haired blonde woman brushes off prior to repeating the hugging motion.
Once both have been properly addressed, the man I would like to get very far away from gestures a hand my direction. “Gram, Gramps, this is my girlfriend, June Bailey.”
Okay, wait what?
“June Bailey, these are my grandparents. Teri aka Gram and Balthazar aka Gramps.”
“You can call us Gram and Gramps,” the much older gentleman jovially insists. “We’re family!”
Uh…are we?
“You’re the June Bailey?!” His grandmother theatrically gasps. “The one we owe so much to for making our daughter’s day?!”
Except that I didn’t.
I didn’t make anyone’s day.
I just…showed up like an idiot secretly praying on the drive over my mascara wouldn’t run – it did – and that his mother wouldn’t hate me for not being able to keep her only son in town.
“That’d be the one,” Tucker lovingly informs prompting me to argue a second time.
Yeah, hold the Pollock for a moment.
He’s not going to address any of the shit that needs addressing?!
He’s just going to pretend that Tuesday didn’t happen?!
That he didn’t shatter my heart like a priceless vase some clumsy docent needs to figure out how to repair before anyone notices?!
“Thank you!” his grandfather joyfully exclaims and embraces me for a tight hug. “Thank you for bringing our boy here and giving his mother the greatest gift of all!”
I reluctantly hug back on whispered. “You’re welcome?”
“Come on, you two!” Grams grabs my hand to begin to drag us towards the outdoor area I assume most guests are occupying. “It’s time for the toasts.”
Despite my confusion and the bumping into everything from waiters to unoccupied barstools, we work our way to the pool area nearest the happy couple. The second we stumble to a stop I plan to express that I can sit somewhere else – anywhere else – that isn’t front and center with the family moment I don’t belong paintballing myself into yet am warmly welcomed by the crowd as if I could never belong anywhere else.
“So glad you could make it,” Brit exclaims, hand in Rich’s. “Both of you.”
To my surprise, the man whose girlfriend I’m pretending to be quietly replies, “Me too.”
“You ready to give your speech, Tuck?” Grams enthusiastically inquires his direction.
Speech?
When…when was he requested to make a speech?
MotherofMonaLisa is that what set him off?
Spiraling?
Being asked to say something nice about the woman he hasn’t forgiven for purposely forgetting about his father – according to him anyway.
“You don’t have to,” Rich rushes to insists on what can only be conveyed as a genuinely warm grin. “You being here really is enough, Tucker.”
“I need to,” the man at my side insists in an almost melancholy tone.
“Give the boy a microphone!” Gramps cheerily commands. “We’ve been waiting for this moment to cut the cake and goddamn it, I want some cake.”
“Dad,” Brit’s giggles are attached to a shake of the head, “we already told you, you could have cake whenever. This is not a traditional reception in any way.”
“I’ll say,” Brandi snickers between sips of champagne. “Most people get married and then have a reception. Not the other way around.”
“We’ve already been over this,” Brit playfully huffs. “You all know the reason we’re having a reception now is because Rich and I both had very large, very over the top, first weddings and wanted something very different, very intimate this time. Something that was just for us. Which is why we’re having all this for you. To allow everyone in our lives who wants to celebrate our love the chance to.”
“That’s so sweet,” I thoughtlessly coo. “And I love that you’re doing something that’s right for you and your love story. I think that’s what weddings should be about.”
All eyes cut my direction causing my parted mouth to remain paralyzed.
Oh shit.
I wasn’t supposed to say that out loud!
“Thank you, June,” Rich states first. “We obviously agree.”