The Worst Wedding Date

Piña coladas are waaaaaay more fun when they’re not mai tais and when your friend bribes the bartender to put extra rum on top of the extra pineapple on top of the extra rum and when they’re delicious and when they make you make a fool of yourself.

Ha-ha! Delaney Kingston is making a fool of herself! Take that, expectations!

But walking up stairs is not fun.

“Why are they so big?” I moan while I lift my thigh with my hands to make it lift high high high in the air to put my foot on the first step of the porch.

Sabrina laughs next to me. “You want ’em big, sweetie.”

“But not too big,” Emma adds.

“How would you know?” Sabrina shoots back. “You’re marrying Chandler, and he’s practically the only guy you’ve ever slept with.”

“I’ve tried bigger dildos when he’s been away on work trips,” Emma replies.

I crack up.

Like, crack up so hard that I can’t see straight.

Am I standing?

I don’t know if I’m standing.

Or sitting.

“I can’t feel my butt!” I shriek.

Something touches it. “Still there,” Sabrina declares.

“Is it still flat and ugly?”

Emma gasps. “Laney. Your butt is not flat and ugly. It’s trim and adorable.”

“Do you have any idea how many times I’ve wanted your butt?” Sabrina adds.

“It’s like this perfect little dream butt that the rest of us have envied for years,” Emma continues.

Sabrina grips me tighter while we make one more step up. “You never have problems with jeans gaping in back.”

“Or falling off of you.”

“And men stare at it all the time.”

“It’s truly the perfect butt.”

“Best booty in the business.”

“Is this when I chime in or when I leave?” Theo asks.

Theo.

Freaking Theo.

“Be quiet,” Sabrina orders.

Emma makes one of her cute Emma noises that means she agrees. “You’re on standby in case we need you to carry Laney inside.”

“Or to my bungalow,” Sabrina adds, “which is where I think we should be going.”

“No, I’m thoing to Geo’s gunbalow,” I remind them. “Because of the secret. Ha! I have a secret tooooooooooo.”

I’m not telling them the secret.

My lips are sealed.

It’s important.

I don’t remember why, but when I keep a secret, I keep a secret.

There aren’t enough piña coladas in the world to ruin this secret. Not when I get to keep a secret.

Am I singing that?

I stop with my hand under my thigh for the last gigantuan step—and yes, that’s a word, because the piña colada says so—and I test my mouth.

I think I was singing that out loud.

Time to stop.

Instead, I look up at Theo. And his chest with all of those tattoos. And his arms. And his face.

He has a nice face.

I like his face. It’s so facey. And bad boy-ey. And it has secrets too.

I wink at him, and the world goes dark. But he’s still there when it lights up again. Did I wink? Or did I do a double-blink?

Not important.

“I didn’t tell,” I assure him.

“Good job,” he replies dryly, his lips wobbling like he’s trying not to laugh at me.

“Not a good job,” I reply. “It’s a bad secret. It could get you in trouble. And I kept it. I am part of the problem. I’m a bad, bad girl.”

Sabrina snickers.

Emma chokes.

And Theo—freaking Theo—gives up and smiles at me.

Wow.

Wow.

He has a pretty smile.

No, not pretty.

Heavenly.

It’s a tropical heaven smile.

I scrunch my nose at him while Sabrina and Emma support me on the porch. “Put that away. I don’t like it.”

He looks down at his shorts.

Then back up at me. “It’s not out.”

“Your schmile, you foogus. Put your schmile away.”

“I feel like we shouldn’t leave her alone with you,” Emma says.

“I’m going in with them,” Sabrina informs her. “You go find your groom. Be all—no, I can’t say that to you. He’s still my cousin. Just go—go do bride stuff.”

“You’re drunk too.”

“I’m happy. I can hold my mai tais.”

“I had twenty-eight piña coladas because I like coconuts,” I tell Theo. “You can’t touch me in bed. It’s against the rules.”

Emma chokes again.

“As I said,” Sabrina says, “I’m going in with them.”

“Shhhhh,” I say. “You can’t. You’ll know the secret.”

“Laney, sweetie, have we met? I know all the secrets.”

“I knew it first.”

“In we go.” Theo pushes the door open so both Sabrinas can help me inside.

Uh-oh.

Two Sabrinas is a bad sign.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen two Sabrinas, and I once did three shots of Jägermeister in an hour.

But only once, because it was irresponsible of me.

“I’m so boring,” I blurt.

“You are not boring,” the front Sabrina replies. “Here. Come sit on—well. Not the couch.”

The couch looks like a giant mouth trying to eat the rest of the living room, and it makes me snortle.

Snortles are so unsophisticated.

They’re full-up snort-giggles that come out my nose and make me burp piña colada.

Ew.

That tasted way better going down than burping back up.

Who invented burps?

They should be put in time-out.

“Night, Em,” I hear Theo say. “Love you. Go have fun. We’ve got her.”

“I know. You’re the best.”

I squint at all of the Sabrinas.

“Did you always know Theo’s a nice guy?” I whisper.

“No,” she replies. “Why didn’t maintenance come fix your couch today?”

“Really wanna ask that?” Theo says.

Sabrina sighs.

I don’t like the sigh.

It’s frustration. I don’t like frustration. I like other f-words.

Dirty f-words.

And also fun f-words.

Like felish—felitten—feline.

Feline.

I like felines.

“Go away,” I tell Sabrina. “I love you. You’re my favorite. But you have to go away. I’m gonna have fun in secret.”

“I am not taking her clothes off or doing anything if she takes them off herself,” Theo says.

There’s only one of him.

I wonder if that’s because he’s so unique. Like all of the extra Theos that are special are on the inside instead of the outside.

We’re the same, but opposite.

My brain is still wrapping around that.

It’s a lot. Especially on this much coconut rum.

“What’s behind the closed door?” Sabrina asks.

“All of his extra pussy. Go away,” I reply.

And then I snortle again.

“I am definitely not going away,” my other very best friend in the entire world replies.

“If you love me, you’ll go away,” I tell her.

She laughs at me. “Not a chance, sweetie.”

“I’ll give you a cookie.”

“Tell me a secret, and maybe I’ll go away.”

Ha. I can do that. “A pig attacked Theo’s car. Go away.”

“Told us that one at the bar already,” she replies.

“Whoops.”

I don’t look at Theo.

Even under the influence of a thousand piña margaritas, I know I told that secret.

“Was Emma mad?” I whisper.

“Was the pig named Chandler?”

“Now it is.”

All of the Sabrinas double over laughing.

“Chandler has the staff holding an open bungalow for someone,” Theo says.

The Sabrinas stop laughing.

“Why’s that not funny?” I ask.

Not that I care.

I want to go live in a pile of kittens.

Shh.

That’s the secret. That Theo has kittens. And I want to love on all of them.

I want to steal one. Take it home so I can have a kitten too.

All I ever wanted when I was little was kittens.

“Say you heard it from me, and you know what I’ll do,” he adds.

I try to creep to the second bedroom door while all of the Sabrinas are whispering something to Theo, but a chair leaps out of nowhere and trips me.

“Not that she should be alone tonight,” I hear Theo add.

I flip him off.

I think.

Do my fingers work?

Which one is my flipping-off finger?

“That’s your pinky, Laney,” he says.

His voice in my name makes me fuzzy and warm inside.

Wait.

Is that my name in his voice?

Did I think that right?

I didn’t.

Doh.

I lift my hand and make fourteen of my five fingers sit down right, until only one is left up.

“Pointer, Laney,” Theo says.

Someone starts singing.

It sounds scary.

Scary enough to make Sabrina say things that would make my mother wash her soap out with mouth.

Who’s singing?

I’m not singing.

And if I am singing, I’m not singing that song. It sounds like a real party in here.

Why are they—ooooooh.

That’s Sabrina’s ringer phone.

Ringer phone?

Phone ringer?

I blink hard at the chair that tripped me while Sabrina answers her phone. “Did I think that right too?” I ask it after I’ve flopped around arguing with it with my body for a bit.

It doesn’t answer.

Stupid chair.

One of the Sabrinas hauls me to my feet and then holds my face to hers like it’s important that I pay attention to whatever she’s saying.

I can do that.

She’s talking.

Unlike the chair.

“Laney, sweetie, that was Aunt Lisa calling me. Aunt Brenda’s a little tipsy too, but unlike you, who is absolutely perfect when you’re tipsy, she’s throwing bar stools at the limited staff left here. The triplets have disappeared, so I need to go run interference. But I’ll be back, okay?”

“Fart at her,” I say.

Theo laughs.

He laughs.

Like a full-on, surprised but happy laugh.

“I will be back,” Sabrina repeats.

“I’ll be back,” I echo back in my best Arnold Schwarzenegger impression.

“Emma won’t threaten you, but you damn well know I will,” Sabrina says.

Oh, god.

Oh god oh god oh god.

I’m a problem.

I’m a problem because I’m not in control of myself and that means that I might make Theo take advantage of me and get in trouble with Emma.

I thought I was just having fun and stress relief, and instead, I’m a problem.

I burst into tears. “I didn’t drunk to get mean,” I sob. “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I won’t be the problem.”

“Oh, Laney, honey, we know you didn’t mean to get drunk.” Sabrina gives me a quick hug. “And you are one hundred percent allowed to get as drunk as you want in safe places with your friends around you after having a bad day. You are not the problem. You are amazing and perfect and I love you. We all do. I was threatening to cut Theo’s balls off if he doesn’t take the utmost care of you while I’m gone.”

“He’s a nice guy,” I sob. “He does nice guy things.”

“He’s about to have to prove it. Go to bed soon, sweetie. Love you. You’re okay. You are not a problem. Having fun is not a problem. I have to go. I’m so sorry.”

I blink, and she’s gone, and the chair has moved and is between me and the door to the kittens again, and I just want to hug a kitten.

Theo angles into view.

He’s blurry, but I’m pretty sure he’s a deer in the headlights. And god knows I’ve seen deer in headlights.

And now pigs in headlights.

“I cry when I’m too drunk,” I sob. “I’m okay. I’m fine. I’ll be okay when I sober up. Tomorrrrroooooooowwww.”

“You wanna hold a kitten?”

“Yeessssssss.”

“Do you need me to carry you there?”

I am not drunk enough to give him the incorrect answer, but I hear it come out of my mouth on another sob anyway. “Yeeesssss.”

Okay.

Maybe I’m that drunk.

This has happened maybe four times in my life. Because I’m boring.

I can’t see Blurry Theo well enough to know if he’s still watching me like I’m a wounded mountain lion or if he’s looking forward to touching me again.

“I want to be fun like you,” I wail. “I want to drink without crying. I want to live. I don’t want to feel dirty and wrong and in trouble because I had a reaction to your body in the car.”

He doesn’t say anything while he lifts my arm and puts it behind his neck.

I can’t see him at all. He’s just a big blob of light brown hair and sun-kissed white skin. And solid warmth lifting me like I’m a china doll.

“Am I over your shoulder?” I ask.

“No.”

“I feel like I’m upside down.”

“That’s because your underwear is always too tight. Push the door handle if you want to see the kittens.”

He’s carrying me.

Theo Monroe, the bane of my existence in my school years, is carrying me into a room of kittens because I’m crying because I’m drunk.

“Why are you nice?”

“Because I like to like myself.”

He kicks the door shut behind us while a chorus of teeny-tiny meows goes up.

“They’re so cute,” I cry.

My eyes won’t open wide enough to let me see them. No matter how hard I try, I can’t pry my eyelids open far enough to see all the cuteness. Plus, Theo keeps making noises like I’m not supposed to squirm.

I can feel them against my chest. It’s like a nipple-tickling rumble.

But only one nipple.

Just the nipple closest to him.

“Why are you attractive?” I ask.

“Because I’m secretly a god sent down from Mount Olympus to test all of the women to see who’ll look past this awesome exterior to the super cool dude inside.”

I pry my eyelids wider apart and almost poke myself in the eye as I start to laugh while I’m still crying. “I can’t see.”

He heaves a sigh, sets me down, and then suddenly lightning flashes in all corners of the room.

“Stop,” I cry. “No thunderstorms! Make it—oh. Oh.”

He turned on the lights.

That’s why I couldn’t see. The lights were off.

It wasn’t my eyeballs.

“I’m so dumb,” I wail.

Theo takes my hand, turns it palm-up, and deposits a soft, fluffy, furry body into it before walking away.

I hiccup.

I am never drinking again. This is mortifying.

And if it’s mortifying while I’m drunk, I cannot even imagine how I’ll feel in the morning.

“Hi, kitty,” I whisper unevenly through the sobs that I’m desperately trying to stop.

“That’s Snaggleclaw,” he says from somewhere else in the room.

“You named him after Snaggletooth?”

“She named herself.”

This one.

I am stealing this kitty. She’s purring in my hand and her name is Snaggleclaw and I just dropped a tear into her fur, so she’s mine.

Theo returns and squats in front of me.

“More kitties?” I whisper.

He doesn’t answer.

Instead, he wipes my face with a soft, damp cloth.

My whole face puckers. “Don’t be nice to me.”

“Been here a few times myself, Laney. You’ll pull through.”

“I said, don’t be nice to me.”

“If you want Asshole Theo, I wrestled him mostly into submission a few years back. Nice Theo is all that’s left. Personality flaw. Apologies, princess.”

He wipes the cloth over my cheeks again. It’s warm but not too warm. I can smell him too. Clean soap with a touch of salt and mystery.

“I liked you too but I wasn’t allowed to,” I whisper from behind closed eyelids.

“You’re a grown-ass woman. You can do anything you want.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can.”

“I want to but I don’t know hoooooow.”

Snaggleclaw squirms in my hand, digging her little claws into my palm like pinpricks that startle me back to exactly where I am and exactly what I’m doing.

“Oh, god,” I whisper. “I made trouble for Emma.”

“Emma enjoyed the hell out of watching you have fun.”

My head hurts, and my dress is falling off.

My dress is falling off.

“That’s not how you do it, Jellybean.” Theo stops wiping my face. There’s another tug on my skirt, and then I have two kittens in my hands and my dress is no longer falling off. “Pet the kitties, Laney. They need you.”

“They need me.”

“Yep. They need you.”

He brushes the washcloth over my face one last time, and I close my eyes and lean into the cool sensation. My sobs are finally subsiding.

Yep.

Gonna be mortified tomorrow.

But not right now.

Right now, I just feel heavy. Rooted to this chair, but also light on top.

Clear.

Free.

Clean.

Happy.

It’s the alcohol. I shouldn’t drink. I shouldn’t drink ever.

But maybe it’s not all the alcohol.

Maybe it’s Theo too.

The kittens. His smile. His gentle touch.

Why can’t I be happy?

Why can’t I just choose to be happy?

“Can’t sleep in here,” he says quietly. “They’ll keep you up all night, and you’ll have to explain a bunch of scratches to Emma.”

“I’m not sleeping.”

“Laney.”

“Shh. This is just a dream. A very, very bad dream.”

“What makes it a bad dream?”

“Emma’s marrying Chandler and they think you’re the bad guy.”

“What’s wrong with Emma marrying Chandler?”

“She deserves somebody who asked her five years ago.”

“Who asked her five years ago?”

“Nobody. But he should’ve. And he didn’t. He doesn’t have balls.”

“You have photographic evidence of that?”

I smile behind my eyelids.

Theo is funny.

“Why did he make her wait so long?” I ask Theo.

“No idea.”

“Does he make her happy?”

“Fucking better.”

“Fucking better,” I agree.

Theo chuckles.

It’s warm and rumbly and it makes my belly tingle. And that’s not just the kitty cats on my lap.

They’re warm and rumbly and making my thighs tingle.

Not my belly.

Only Theo’s chuckle makes my belly tingle.

“Kitty time’s over, Laney,” Theo says quietly. “C’mon. I’ll put you to bed.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Why?”

“Because drunk Laney likes you.”

“Sober Theo will keep his distance.”

“Drunk Laney doesn’t want you to.”

“Drunk Laney will thank me in the morning.”