Moore To Love (35 page)

JESUS, TALK ABOUT A BLUBBERING
fool.

It started when Reynold nearly lost it the first time he saw Ashley as she walked down the aisle. He cried like a baby, which caused a domino effect of emotions amongst me, Mom, Dad and the rest of the guests with compassionate, beating hearts. Then, their hand-written vows to each other were so deeply heartfelt that my stomach coiled in knots at the fear that something this amazing might never come my way. I had him, but stupid me, I let him go, and no matter how happy I am for my baby brother and Ashley, I was feeling sorry for myself as they shared their first kiss as husband and wife.

But by the time the ceremony and cocktail hour are over, I’m enjoying myself the way any maid-of-honor should—in the damn bathroom, helping the bride pee.

“Are you done yet?” I ask from underneath three layers of crinoline.

“Yup. Just hold it up two more seconds while I switch out my thingie so I don’t die from TSS and make your brother a widower on our wedding night.”

“I’m pretty sure TSS is a myth.” I roll my eyes and turn the other way. She may be my sister now, but I didn’t sign up for this shit. Tampon-changing and ass-wiping for a grown woman—not exactly my cup of tea, but that’s what I’m here for.

When Ashley is done in the bathroom, she joins her husband off to the side where they prepare to be introduced to their guests and I make my way into the reception area to scope things out. For a wedding of this magnitude that was planned over only a few short months, everything is stunning.

The flowers Ashley chose are more elegant than anything I’ve ever seen in pictures of exotic, far-away gardens. The crystal chandeliers and diamond studded candles decorating the rustic space give it a vintage touch that’s to die for. And the DJ—one of Rey’s friends from college who travels around the world selling out venues of all types—could probably give Avicii and David Guetta a run for their money, if you ask me. I’ve only heard a taste of what he can do at the cocktail hour and already my feet are begging for more.

Securing my speech in the handy dandy pocket of my gown, I size up the place cards. I already know I’m sharing a table with my parents, grandparents, and Tatum, but when I notice Lane’s name in calligraphy next to mine on the embossed stationary, I’m instantly bummed.

I could’ve sworn she told me she was fixing that. Maybe this is her way of digging the knife even deeper into the wound. That wound that no one wants to heal more than my sister-in-law. The wound that I wish would stop throbbing for the next six hours. I only want to have a good time and deal with this tomorrow. Is that too much to ask?

“Miss Moore?” A tap on my shoulder breaks me from my Lane spell.

“Yes?”

A tuxedoed man with white gloves and an ear piece flashes a genuine smile. “We’re lining up the parents and the bridal party. The DJ will announce you shortly.”

I nod and follow his outstretched hand to where everyone is huddled around the bride and groom. As I make my way over, a whistled catcall catches my attention and I make the mistake of peering over my shoulder.

Hudson.

“Mr. Wrong Place at the Wrong Time,” I mumble to myself before waving curtly. I’m not sure why he gets under my skin the way he does. I guess I’m more on edge since my break-up with Lane, but as handsome, rich, and eligible as Hudson is, he’s not the guy I want.

Hudson nods and waves back with a pompous smolder, but keeps his distance when his eyes reach beyond me to the line of people being organized by the maître d’. My heart grows heavy and my body tenses when I realize he’ll be watching me all night and will no doubt discover that I’m here alone.

I grunt as I find the best man, our cousin Sally Boy, “This blows big, smelly, co—”

“Nice mouth. You kiss your mother with it?” Sal jokes, slicking back his enormous coif.

“Nice hair. You get any girls with it?”

Sally Boy bobs back and forth like Rocky Balboa pumping himself up for a fight. “Leni, babes, I actually have a date. Last I checked,
you
were going stag—again.”

He may be dumber than a box of rocks, but he isn’t wrong. “Yeah, whatever. Fuck off.” There’s nothing left to say, so I don’t. I hook my arm in his and swallow my pride. As soon as I walk into that room, I’m beelining it to the bar. I plan on consuming enough alcohol to tranquilize a horse.

Sally Boy’s date, Jenna, happens to be a great dance partner. She, Tatum, and I are killing it on the dance floor, and I’m not sure if it’s the DJ’s brilliant remixes or the bartender’s promise to keep them flowing that have me feeling like an oversized combo of J. Lo, Beyoncé, and Madonna.

Jenna throws her arms above her head, bumping and grinding in my dance space. “Did anyone ever tell you that you could be—”

“If you say a plus-sized model she’s going to impale you with her Valentinos,” Tatum is quick to say exactly what’s on my mind, but truth is, after all I’ve been through—short-lived, plus-size modeling career behind me—Jenna’s would-be compliment doesn’t piss me off the way something like that used to.

I laugh it off and continue fist pumping to the beat of the music.

“I’m sorry,” Jenna shouts into my ear. “You’re totally hot. I hope you know that.”

I pull back from Jenna, ready to slap a sloppy but appreciative kiss on her cotton candy colored lips, but I’m met with a pair of warm, thick hands on my bare shoulders.

“She
is
totally hot, isn’t she?”

Jenna looks like she’s seen a ghost. No, scratch that. Jenna looks as though she’s just laid eyes on Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor.
Poor Sally Boy.

I don’t even have to turn around to know it’s him. “You’re a wedding crasher now?” I ask flippantly, continuing to dance with Jenna. Tatum is at the bar—again—probably ordering another round of shots. I have no desire to get tangled up in anything Hudson related tonight, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t get the memo because Hudson spins me around and pulls me against his expensive suit.

My body traitorously submits to his and my limbs turn to mush when he says, “As of an hour ago, I own the place. I’m pretty sure I can do whatever I want.”

Gulp. Why does he have to be so arrogant? It’s so goddamn sexy.
“Congratulations, but you owning the place doesn’t mean you can dictate who I dance with.”

“Do you know that for sure? Did you see the contracts? I might have made a special provision, just for tonight.”

I wouldn’t put it past him, but still. I was having fun with the girls. Dancing with Hudson or even talking to him feels like I’m cheating on the boyfriend I don’t even have anymore.

Ignoring his dominant hands at my waist, I look up into his eyes to tell him I’m saving all my dances for someone else, but doing so is a huge mistake. Those eyes. So inviting. So captivating. So dilated.

And don’t get me started on the DJ. He’s switched things up from a booty slapping beat to a cheek-to-cheek melody as if he’s luring me into the arms of this stubborn man.

“Why are you doing this to me?” I practically mewl. I’d like to think my legs are weak from the workout they’ve been getting on the dance floor, but unfortunately my boogieing is not the cause of their Jell-O like state. Not only is Hudson the total package, but he’s a phenomenal dancer. Before I know it, my body is molded to his and my feet are following his lead.

“I’m not doing anything, Leni. I’m just here.”

“It seems like you’re always exactly where you shouldn’t be.”

“I’m an opportunist.”

“No, you’re obnoxious.”

He pulls back from our embrace and brings his hand to his heart. He’s trying to make it seem I’ve insulted him, but his smirk tells a different tale. “Why are you fighting this so hard? I don’t see your man anywhere around. Either he let you down and dateless for your brother’s wedding for some other selfish reason or he’s not in the picture anymore.”

I try with all my dwindling might not to answer him with a visual reaction. Instead of giving him the satisfaction he’s looking for, I lie. “He had to fly back home for a family emergency. Believe me, he wants nothing more than to be here with me.”

Hudson scans me from head to toe. I’ll never get used to the way he eats me up with his eyes and then digests what he sees like I’m an extravagant, five course meal. “He’s really missing out.”

I’m flattered that Hudson finds someone as ordinary as I am so attractive and that he’s gone to such great lengths to be in the same room as me, but it only makes me long for Lane that much more. I look down at our feet, in time, in sync, in such close proximity and the loss of Lane hits me like a ton of bricks all over again. “It’s me who’s missing out.”

“Fuck! You love the dude, don’t you?” Hudson stops swaying to the music and tips my chin up with his finger.

I take a deep breath and nod. “Yes. I really do. I love him.” It’s the first time the words have left my mouth and touched the air. It feels good to say them, only it sucks they’re not spoken to the right person.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so annoying.” Hudson’s usually cavalier demeanor softens and for the first time since the night we hooked up, I see a boyish charm that makes me hope we can be friends.

I gently rub his arm and then veer him off the dance floor. “Don’t be silly. You have no idea how your fruitless efforts have boosted my ego. People come into our lives for all different reasons. Your purpose has been served, my friend.”

Hudson arches a brow and straightens his already well-placed tie. “Well, before you dismiss me . . . how about a celebratory shot?” He places one hand at my back and motions to the bar with the other.

I follow his lead and ask, “What exactly are we celebrating?”

“This is a wedding, isn’t it?”

“Ah-duh.” I feel kind of stupid, come to think of it. I was so wrapped up in my own love triangle of sorts that I nearly forgot why we’re here in the first place.

Finally, at ease with the whole Hudson thing, I allow myself to relax and go with the flow. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to my family. They’re probably wondering who the debonair stranger dancing with the perpetual single girl is.”

“I’d say let’s give them something to talk about, but since your heart belongs to someone else, I’ll behave.”

I laugh as we approach the bar and a very tipsy Tatum to find that a line of shots has already been poured for a slew of us.

“Looky wha’ the caz dragged in,” Tatum slurs.

“Hello, again,” Hudson smiles and nods at her, and then reaches for his tequila. “Don Julio, correct?” he asks the bartender, with a boss-man attitude.

“Yes, sir.” News must travel fast. I guess the staff has already been informed that Hudson’s the new suit calling the shots around here.

Hudson raises his glass and we all follow his lead. “To happiness!” Before he brings the glass to his lips he shoots me a wink that holds a different meaning than any of the others that have come before it.

“To happiness,” I repeat, raising my glass and then gulping it down in one smooth swallow.

Everyone who’s toasted slams their empties down on the bar and scurries for a lemon slice to chase away the burn of the alcohol. A familiar favorite, mixed with the beat of yet another favorite, swirls from the speakers. “No way! I love this song!” I throw my hands in the air and wince from the fire in my chest, but accept it for what it is. A natural, God given reaction to living life to the fullest. To having fun. To being happy.