The Worst Wedding Date

There’s a special kind of living that comes with watching someone else step out of their shell and embrace everything they’ve been missing.

Watching Laney blossom? Watching her put on a bikini and launch herself into the world’s worst—but also best—cannonball? Watching her laugh as she parasails above the ocean? The confidence it took to go down on me outside, where anyone could’ve walked by the little garden? The joy and arousal on her face over the bacon at breakfast?

This is a whole new side of Laney and it makes me like her more than I thought I ever could.

I shouldn’t have let her think I was a model.

But I’m not ready for this to end. I still have today. I still have tomorrow.

I can find a way to tell her what I do on the side without scaring her off.

I have to. Every minute I spend with her, I want two more. I’m falling hard. And I don’t want to stop.

It’s hell to watch her dash off toward Emma’s room to deal with a dress emergency that I’m unequipped to help with.

If she wanted it knitted back together, I’d be her guy.

But I know it’s lacy and frilly and satiny, and I am not the guy for that. Lot more experience ripping those fabrics than putting them back together.

Doesn’t mean I’m useless, though.

I promise Laney I’ll stay away from the golf course—for your sake, Theo, because nothing’s gone wrong today and you don’t deserve to get shit for doing nothing wrong and it’s likely Chandler will give you shit just for breathing, which isn’t fair—but I don’t promise her I won’t provoke trouble in other ways.

And other ways is me checking on the kittens, and then leaving the bungalow to stride behind the unmanned front desk of the resort and into the office.

A woman with brown skin and thick black hair pulled up into a bun with a red hibiscus in it looks up at me from digging in one of the drawers. She’s in the resort’s Hawaiian print pattern, and her nametag says Kalani.

“Sir, this area is off-limits for guests. I’ll be with you at the desk shortly.”

I smile at her and pull up a floral folding chair across from her. “My sister’s getting married here tomorrow, and I was hoping you could tell me everything’s squared away for it.”

“No one’s getting married here tomorrow, sir.”

“Theo, please. My sister booked a resort wedding. For tomorrow. Here. Got the receipt and everything.”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “It’s not on the calendar, sir.”

Of course it’s not. Dammit. “So how do we get it on the calendar?”

She stares at me with undisguised suspicion.

I give her a friendly, nonthreatening smile in return.

“Are you a federal agent?” she whispers.

Don’t know why I didn’t see that coming, but it catches me so off guard I almost fall off the seat laughing. “Sorry,” I sputter. “Sorry. That’s—that’s never happened before.”

She heaves a sigh. “A girl can hope.”

“Things aren’t so great around here, huh?”

There’s more wariness in the look she gives me than I’ve felt about nearly anything in my life.

I hold up my hands. “Don’t need to know. Look, my sister’s had posters of this place hanging on her walls since she was about ten years old. If she wants the wedding of her dreams, I’m giving her the wedding of her dreams. Point me to your storage closets and anywhere I can book a minister last minute, and I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You say you already paid for a wedding.”

I shrug. “I’ll talk to management later.”

“You’re being suspiciously nice about this.”

“All I want is for my sister to be happy.”

And for Laney to be happy. But that’s not something I’ll find in this office today.

That’s something I’ll have to fix when I tell her my whole truth.

Eventually.

“Her fiancé is a terrible tipper,” Kalani finally says.

Fitting. “Are you a fed?” I joke. “Tricking me into saying things I’ll regret later?”

That earns me a smile in return. “I wouldn’t want my sister marrying a terrible tipper.”

“And I won’t be the reason her wedding doesn’t happen when I have time to fix it. So can you help a guy out?”

“Why not? The new management’s wrecked this place so badly, it won’t even exist in another week. Here. Take my keys. I have a new job lined up starting tomorrow. Don’t even care if I don’t get my last paycheck. I’m just—”

The bell dings at the front desk four times, and then a nut-shriveling voice calls, “Hello? Hello, we’d like to check in, please.”

The Kingstons.

Laney’s parents.

They’re here.

Kalani sighs again. “—apparently checking in one last set of guests before I leave this place too.” She hands me a set of keys. “There’s a storage closet on the back side of the bistro. It should have what you’re looking for. And, for your sake, be aware that there are cameras basically on the corner of every building. If you want to…you know…have fun entertaining your girlfriend outside of your bungalow again.”

My shoulders hitch.

But Kalani’s smiling as she heads out to the front desk. “Lucky girl,” she adds.

I pocket the keys and follow her, head down, hoping I won’t be noticed, but there it is.

The sniff of disdain.

I glance up, verifying Laney’s parents are here, and yep.

I’ve been spotted.

And I am not a welcome sight.

My entire body flinches.

Can’t help it.

Old habit.

You have this, I tell myself. You know your worth.

Not talking about my bank account either.

Talking about my basic worth as a human being.

I force myself to make direct eye contact with Gail Kingston. Charles is right behind her. Both of them are in business casual travel clothes that would go well with the getup Laney had on when she arrived the other day.

Charles is slower on the uptake, but when he spots me, his lip curls too.

Like I’m the riffraff.

I nod to both of them and turn to continue on my way.

“Dear god, he even has to get a part-time job on vacation,” she mutters to him.

He grunts.

Fuck this. I have a wedding to save.

First place I’m heading? Back to the restaurant I just left.

I have a strong suspicion I know why I’m familiar to the server. And I know I can charm the hell out of anyone, and I need someone who can cook a rehearsal dinner.

That’s all that matters.

“Oh, lookie, the Kingstons are here,” Uncle Owen says as he enters the lobby too. He chuckles. “Came looking for towels, and instead I get Snaggletooth Creek royalty. Good to see you. Em’s gonna be so glad you’re here. Won’t she, Theo?”

“Sure.” I step out from behind the desk, jangling the keys in my pocket and telling myself the Kingstons’ opinion of me doesn’t matter.

Except it does.

Because—

“Theo’s been hanging out with Delaney every day,” Uncle Owen continues. “Nice to see all the young ’uns getting along, isn’t it?”

I turn at that.

Can’t help it.

Want to know if it’s my imagination or if they’re still horrified.

Still horrified.

That’s definitely horrified in the way Gail’s face has twisted while she actually clutches her necklace and Charles’s spine snaps straight and his eyes turn into laser beams that threaten to flay me alive if I’ve so much as thought about his daughter’s no-no box.

Walk away, Theo. They don’t matter.

Except they do.

They’re Laney’s parents.

I like Laney.

I like Laney a lot.

I want to wake up with her in my bed, in my own damn house, and help her make pancakes. I want to experiment with recreating that bacon. I want to take her sledding down Death Hill—over-named, by the way—and listen to her shriek and scream and laugh when we get to the bottom. I want to kiss her while it’s snowing. I want to take her on a hot-air balloon ride.

“I’m sure there’s a good reason for a bridesmaid to associate with the bride’s family,” Gail says crisply.

Charles looks like he’s debating if anyone would miss me if he skewered me like a shrimp and dumped my ass at sea.

“Vacation Laney’s fun,” I say. “I like her.”

Yep.

Can’t help myself.

And you’d think there’d be some satisfaction in their shocked horror, but there’s not.

All I have is a creeping feeling of utter worthlessness that I’ve spent more than a decade trying to get over.

I have worth. I have worth. I have worth.

Laney knows it. Laney knows it. Laney knows it.

Not helping.

Not as much as I want it to.

Especially considering that little bit of hope growing in my chest is futile.

Dreaming about Laney back home requires telling Laney that my penis earns a nice big paycheck every month.

It doesn’t matter how much she’s changed.

That’ll be a dealbreaker for her.

No doubt.

No question.

So I’ll be the guy showing her a fun time, showing her she can be courageous and bold and live the life she wants to live, until I have to tell her.

Which is not before Emma’s wedding.

No trouble. No upset bridesmaids. No more hiccups for Emma getting what Emma wants.

My phone buzzes in my hand, and my heart leaps in joy when I see it’s from Laney.

Dress is going to take a while. Can you double-check that everything’s okay for the rehearsal dinner tonight?

Yep.

Even when it’s about a disaster, I love seeing her name on my phone.

It’s not, but I’m on it. Don’t tell Emma, I text back.

And then I get busy fixing what I can.

With the creeping sensation that all too soon, I’ll have to face what I can’t.