Slightly Irregular (23 page)

On the other hand, Lisa looked as if she was struggling to walk in a straight line. Perhaps she should have spent more time practicing the fine art of walking in killer heels instead of running triathlons. Anyone can bike, run, and swim, but it takes talent to get the pitch and balance of a new pair of stilettos.

The tux-clad video guys and the photographer moved discreetly along the walls of the church, while Jeffrey stood in the back grinning broadly. He should be pleased with himself. The chapel was stunning. The lighting was subdued everywhere except in the small area occupied by David, Lisa, and the pastor. After I’d adjusted Lisa’s gown and taken her bouquet, I sorta zoned out. I was standing on a diagonal, so I could see Liam in my peripheral vision. If the brunette got any closer, she’d be in his lap. If he noticed, it didn’t show on his face.

I was so distracted that I almost missed my cue to hand Lisa’s bouquet back for her joyous walk through the on-their-feet-applauding crowd. I looped arms with the best man and tried to smile as naturally as possible. After all, my mother wanted perfect pictures, and I didn’t want the headache of being caught with my smile down.

My mother alternated between dabbing her eyes and clutching her hanky to her heart. You’d think it was the first wedding she’d attended. Hardly. She’d made the same walk five times and was actively looking for number six.

After shaking ninety-nine hands, I saw Liam bring up the rear of the receiving line. He smelled as good as he looked. No wonder the brunette had been campaigning so hard. I wouldn’t have minded nuzzling his neck.

I decided that was because he was in a tux. Most men look better in formal wear. Very James Bondy, and totally sexy—Liam even more so because of that lock of hair that always fell to his forehead. I really wanted to rake my fingers through his hair. Who was I kidding? I wanted him, period.

The next thirty minutes was spent on photographs. The poor photographer was getting it from both sides. My mother was giving him direction, as was Tenley Huntington-St. John. Since the guy’s portfolio included stars and professional athletes, I’m sure he was accustomed to all the instruction. I could just tell he was tired of it.

David and Lisa kept sharing little kisses between group shots. It would have been kind of sweet except that David kissed like an angelfish. I didn’t know a guy could pucker so long or so hard. Lisa could probably stand a foot away from him and those nasty lips still would have reached her.

It was time to return to the Ritz. Liam was nowhere to be seen, possibly in the company of the brunette, so I was relegated to sharing a limo with best man Mitchell something, as well as two other groomsmen and two of the other bridesmaids. Everyone seemed giddy and chatty on the way to the reception. It wasn’t that I was trying to be standoffish. I wasn’t. I just didn’t have much to add to conversations about medical procedures. One of the women, Brandi, Candi—something like that—was also an oncologist. The other woman was a surgical nurse. The best man and both groomsmen had been close to David since elementary school, and both had gone on to medical school. The one who wasn’t the best man had also earned a J.D. Guess that came in handy if he wanted to sue himself for malpractice.

“Your mother mentioned you worked for a law firm in Palm Beach?” Mitchell inquired politely.

Knowing my mother would kill me if I outed myself, I simply said, “West Palm Beach, actually. I specialize in trusts and estates and some litigation work.” True enough, but I felt kinda sleazy lying about my perfectly good job.

We made appropriate chitchat until we reached the hotel and I was freed from medical personnel hell. Yet again Jeffrey gathered us together and coordinated the way in which we would enter the ballroom. And yet again, I was next to last, looped arm in arm with Mitchell Who-Gives-a-Shit.

The bandleader announced us as if we were game-show contestants. “And here we have maid of honor and sister of the bride, Finley Tanner. She’s being escorted by Mitchell Helner, David’s close friend and best man.”

I almost expected parting gifts when Mitchell and I reached the dining area. Liam was already seated at a large circular table and had risen along with the rest of the attendees to greet Lisa and David. I joined in the applause as my sister beamed when she walked through the door. I don’t even think she noticed that the bandleader called her Mrs. David Huntington-St. John IV. No recognition that she was a doctor. I glanced across the table and read the pinched expression on my mother’s face. As much as she didn’t want me to tell a soul what I actually did for a living, it was nothing compared to how strongly she needed people to know that her other daughter was a successful physician.

I saw the brunette one table over and would easily have laid odds on her switching out her place card to be closer to Liam. If he noticed, it didn’t show as he pulled out my chair for me.

I liked that Lisa and David had forgone the traditional head table and opted instead to seat the wedding party up front, but at tables where they had friends or family. Lisa and David had a small table to themselves right near the edge of the dance floor.

If I thought the ballroom was incredible in the morning, it was nothing compared to how magical it looked all pulled together. The color scheme really did remind you of the beach. All we needed was an Ocean Breeze Yankee Candle to make it complete.

Wait staff in crisp, black uniforms poured champagne and passed trays of appetizers. There were shrimp, dates wrapped in bacon, caviar on tiny blinis with crème fraîche, prosciutto wrapped around melon, and sumptuous pâté de fois gras on toast points. The choices seemed endless, and I decided to pace myself since I knew a dinner of surf and turf was soon to follow. The champagne, on the other hand … I was all for having my
glass topped off a few times before Liam leaned over and asked, “Don’t you have to give a toast?”

“In a couple of hours,” I answered more curtly than I’d intended. It was just that the brunette was leaning back in her chair listening to our exchange.

“Finley?” My mother spoke from her place on the opposite side of the table. “Remember your responsibilities.”

I shielded my mouth with my hand. “She reads lips when she isn’t flying around on her broomstick.”

Liam smiled. “Mrs. Rossi, would you care to dance?”

My mother looked as if he’d just asked her for a kidney. “I believe I will wait until after the traditional first dance by the bride and groom.”

If her condescension bothered Liam, he certainly didn’t show it. Instead, he called the waiter over and asked for a beer rather than the champagne. I thought my mother would get the vapors, whatever the hell vapors are. The only thing that would make it worse was if he drank it straight from the bottle. And given his choice, I’m sure Liam would have preferred that over the fancy glass the waiter placed in front of him.

“Is she always like this?”

“Only when she’s awake.”

I spent the next forty minutes sipping my drink and accepting the kind words of strangers. Most of them pointed out that Lisa and I looked nothing alike. I was sorely tempted to say, “That’s because my mother got knocked up by one of two men she was boffing at the time.” But I didn’t. The risk was far greater than the reward.

Liam couldn’t take a breath to please her. My mother began
sharing her complaints with Great-aunt Susan—for whom my mother was named before she legally had her name changed from Susan to Cassidy. Because Great-aunt Susan is close to ninety, my mother had to yell to be heard. That gave her a nice excuse to point out that Liam’s handkerchief was not properly folded, that Liam was slouching in his chair like he was attending some sort of sporting event, that Liam had embarrassed her last night by flirting with other women at the rehearsal gala—which wasn’t true, they had been flirting with him. She finished by promising Great-aunt Susan that Liam and I weren’t seriously involved. In fact, she continued, in the world according to Cassidy, Liam and I barely knew each other. Her constant sniping made dinner seem to last an eternity. Then the bandleader called Mitchell up to the microphone to give his speech. I swear, it was longer than the State of the Union address. He started with his first meeting with David and ended with a more current recollection. When it was my turn, I went up, took the microphone, and said, “It can be hard to share your sister with someone else, but I am thrilled to share Lisa with David. The love you show for and to each other is inspiring and beautiful, and I look forward to seeing it continue to grow. I am honored to be able to raise a toast to my wonderful sister and her new husband. To Lisa and David!”

Took me all of ten seconds, which judging by the applause, was appreciated after Mitchell’s seven-minute blathering.

I had just about reached my seat when the bandleader announced it was time for Lisa and David’s first dance. I knew from speaking to Lisa that Tenley Huntington-St. John had arranged for private lessons with a choreographer so the waltz would be perfect. It paid off. Other than a few missteps because
of her shoes, Lisa got through the first part of the song without falling face-first into the six-tier cake.

Then came the whole will-the-rest-of-the-wedding-party-please-join-our-couple invitation. I waited by my chair for Mitchell to join me. As soon as he held out his hand, I awkwardly took to the dance floor. If the weasel stepped on my Jimmy Choos, I’d probably knee him in the testicles.

We’d been dancing for maybe ten seconds when I realized Liam was tapping Mitchell on the shoulder. Suddenly, I was passed off. Liam pulled me close. Not just bodies touching but pressed together. Hard.

A slight murmur went through the guests as Liam spun me around and pulled my hand against his body. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Pissing your mother off. A little payback for the way she treats you.”

I glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s working.”

His hand dropped lower until it rested just below the small of my back. “I’m liking it myself. Great toast, by the way. I wouldn’t have pegged you as the sentimental type.”

“I’m not. I got it off IDoWeddingToasts.com.”

Liam’s hand dipped lower still, pressing our bodies even closer. “Well played.”

“You, too. You’re managing to frost my mother and break the heart of your brunette girlfriend all with one dance.”

“Jealous?”

No, I was hot. Really hot. “The song is ending.”

“So it is,” Liam agreed as he waited for total silence before releasing me.

My knees felt weak, and I wasn’t sure I still had a fully functional spine. I got an express ride back to reality when I turned and saw my mother’s red face. She was hot too, only in a different way.

“What were you thinking, Finley?” she asked as soon as we returned to the table. “That was inappropriate and disgusting.”

“Thought you said it wasn’t serious,” Great-aunt Susan remarked. “Looked mighty serious from here.”

“Really, Finley. And you,” she paused to glare at Liam. She let her narrowed gaze complete the thought.

The next few hours were a bit painful. My mother and Liam had both drawn their lines in the sand. The brunette had asked Liam to dance twice. Both times he accepted, though he didn’t grind her the way he had me. Just to irritate her, he asked my mother to dance. She declined, but Great-aunt Susan was all over her invitation. She probably hadn’t danced since the Reagan administration, so she and her artificial hip went for it.

Then we had cake—chocolate with champagne buttercream—and then … it happened. The most humbling experience at any wedding is the dreaded tossing of the bouquet. Normally, I make sure to time a trip to the ladies’ room to avoid participating, but that wouldn’t work in this situation. The leader of the full orchestra had already introduced me to the wedding guests, so my absence would be conspicuous. Not to mention my mother would have a fit if I wasn’t one hundred percent into the festivities.

But a bouquet toss? Standing huddled in a lump of desperate, single women holding on to the myth that the lone catcher will be the next one down the aisle held zero appeal for me. It
was a spectacle. Not to mention that it often turned physical. Some women were so eager to get their hands on the silk-flower prize that they actually hip-checked you out of the way. Worse still, the whole thing was set to music. In this case, it was an instrumental version of “It’s Raining Men.”

“Get up there,” my mother said with a clenched smile.

Dutifully, I rose and began weaving my way through the tables. “Good luck!” Liam called after me.

Good luck? Hardly
. Getting into position was not an easy task, given that my dress had some volume and my heels were too high for bouquet hockey. What if I broke a heel? The mere thought of harm coming to my Jimmy Choos gave me chills.

Joining the throng of about thirty-five bachelorettes, I stayed toward the back of the pack, in what I like to think of as the safe zone. Seven of my sister bridesmaids were clumped in the crowd of hopefuls.

As Lisa took her place on a chair in the front of the banquet room, I fiddled with the double-strand pearl necklace that she’d given all her attendants. We also received a matching bracelet and drop pearl earrings, so I was accessorized to the gills.

When the wedding guests began a countdown, Lisa swung her arm in unison to the cheers.

“Two … one!”

The next thing I knew I was holding a silk replica of Lisa’s bouquet. I received a rousing round of applause that made my cheeks warm as embarrassment crept up from my neck. Maneuvering back to the table, I tried to ignore the condescending smile on Liam’s face.

I actually added that to my list of things to ignore about
Liam. Seeing him in a tux was still a distraction. Then there was the whole didn’t-actually-kiss-me-at-the-rehearsal-dinner thing. Having him around was proving to be a test, one I wasn’t so sure I was passing. But my situation was about to change. David and Lisa were getting ready to leave, which meant I could go up to my room and relax. Well, as much as possible, knowing Liam was right next door.

Thirty minutes later I was back in the relative peace and quiet of my suite, wearing lounge pants and sipping coffee. As much as I enjoyed clothing, I was tired of being trussed into a ball gown. I’d never make it as Cinderella. Even though it was just shy of eleven, it had been a very long and exhausting day.