Zach
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
About effing time. My oldest brother kisses his true love, and the crowd in the church goes wild.
I’m the best man, at Ryan’s side to make sure he can stand up, say his vows, and put the ring on the bride’s finger. Then he’s Calandra’s problem, her job to get him back down the aisle and stand still for pictures. I dust off my hands to show Calandra I’m done with him.
By the way, I’m Zach, brother number two. Behind me in the first row are Ben and Austin, both half-sauced and doing victory dances. At least Austin’s dancing, punching the air and whooping. Ben’s a little quieter, but damn, he’s still gyrating around like a big goof.
Why are we partying so hard already? Because we never in our lives thought Ryan McLaughlin and Calandra Stevenson would get to the altar. It took some doing …
But hold on a sec. This story isn’t about them.
It’s about me. And that gorgeous, long-legged sweetheart behind the bride, who can make anything, even a bright yellow butt-ugly maid-of-honor dress, look amazing.
She’s got black hair, brown eyes, and curves that can stop traffic. She isn’t aware of it—doesn’t have her face in the mirror all the time, like women who can’t get enough of themselves.
Abby was my first kiss.
Yep. When we were thirteen, she and I mashed lips. I thought I’d die right there. My body was like a river of fire, her lips the softest thing I’d ever felt.
After the seriously wet face smash, we did some staring, our faces red, and started yelling at each other. Ended that relationship real quick.
Hard to believe that was almost twenty years ago. I stayed friends with Abby, more or less, but we never mashed lips again. I didn’t care at first because, you know, attention span. Then football ate all my time. It was really, really important, right? More important than watching Abby Warren transform from cute girl to sensuously beautiful woman.
I realized that when she showed up to stay with Calandra, her best friend, to get her to the church on time. She’s maid of honor to my best man, and we’ve been thrown together all week.
Yeah, I notice now. Not that it’s going to do me any good. I think Abby’s with someone or sort of with someone or wants to be with someone, over in Chandler, where she’d moved during high school with her mom when her folks split up. Chandler’s like the other side of the planet when you live in north Phoenix.
The music begins to send us back down the aisle. I step away and grin at Ryan, who is so happy it’s glowing off him. I swear some of his happiness touches me, like a warm splash in the face. He walks Calandra toward the church’s exit, a married man.
Now it’s my turn. I hold out my arm and Abby takes it, just like in rehearsal.
Damn, she smells good. The bright yellow dress rustles into my tux as our hips bump.
Her fingers are strong on my arm, warm through the tux jacket. She smiles at me, her lips an orange-red color from whatever lipstick she’s wearing.
“They did it,” she says to me over the organ music as we skim after my brother and his new wife. “I don’t know what I’m going to do now that I don’t have to talk Calandra into marrying your brother. A big hole just opened up in my calendar.”
“You’ll fill it with something. Every time they have a fight …”
Abby throws me an exasperated glance. “Don’t say that. Besides, it’s your turn. I had the bachelorette party breakdown. You get their first fight.”
I’d heard that Calandra was freaking out a little last night. I got the same from Ryan’s end. Ben, Austin, and me had been ready to tie him up and drag him here today.
“I think they’ll be fine,” I say with confidence. “They just needed to get over the hump.”
We study Ryan and Calandra walking out of the church into the sunlight on this April afternoon, leaning into each other. Yep, those two are in love. Humping definitely on their minds.
It starts to be on my mind too. With Abby against my hip, her dark hair dusted with glitter, the faint perfume designed to drive me crazy, how can I help it? She’s beautiful. Always has been.
Somehow we get out of the church into the late afternoon sunshine, then it’s the endless round of photos, the McLaughlin brothers doing prank poses until Calandra threatens to bean us with her bouquet.
Abby remains poised through it all, far above the rest of us. I get to stand next to her in some pics, and the two of us flank Calandra and Ryan in others. Then the group, with my parents, two people still very much in love.
Calandra and Ryan chose a hiking trip in in northern Arizona for their honeymoon. Whatever floats their boat. I’m betting it isn’t so much hiking they have in mind as being alone, far from brothers, parents, and friends.
After photos we zoom off to the resort hotel in north Phoenix we’ll all spend the night in. The reception dinner is held in a huge tent outside with a band, food, and plenty of booze. The only flaw is that I have to make a speech.
Abby sits next to me at a long table across the back of the tent, the bride, groom, and wedding party on display. Abby’s arms and shoulders are bare, her dress showing a bit of cleavage. Not that I’m looking.
Okay, I’m looking, but I’m keeping my eyes polite. No gaping, gawping, or drooling. I’m a gentleman.
Abby notices my nervousness and puts it down to speech jitters. “Here.” She pours her untouched drink into my empty glass. “Courage.”
I take a gulp, and cough, my eyes watering. “What is this?”
“Single malt Scotch, no mixer.”
“Nice.” I venture another sip, savoring this time. “You into whisky?”
Abby shrugs. She has light brown eyes that go well with her dark hair, her irises ringed with gray. I’ve never seen that in eyes before, and I study them with interest.
“I’m not into tastings and writing stuff in a notebook,” she says. “I just like it.”
I make a mental note to casually mention Dad’s collection of Glenfiddich at some point.
“It’s not bad,” I say, hefting the glass.
“It’s what the bar is serving. Drink it,” Abby advises. “Get you over the jitters.”
“Or make me so drunk I forget the speech.”
She’s laughing at me now. “Not if you wrote it down.”
“Why would I do that?” I nod at the waiter who’s circulating and order Abby another Scotch. “I’m going to wing it.”
The corners of Abby’s eyes go all crinkly. “Oh, great idea.”
“I know. I’m screwed. I don’t know what the hell I’m going to say.”
The waiter brings the Scotch, which Abby sips. “Don’t worry about it. Just say what’s in your heart.”
“You mean—I wish I was doing anything but standing up in front of you all making a speech?”
“You could go with that.” Abby nods gravely. “Why don’t you? I’d love to see that.”
“Heart of gold, that’s you.”
She laughs. “Well, you suck at kissing, so I want to see if you suck at speeches.”
My whole body gets hot, and my face must be red as a brick. “I didn’t suck. I was thirteen. What did I know?”
Abby leans closer, and I start getting lightheaded. I shouldn’t drink single malt so fast. “Are you saying I was your first kiss?” she asks.
“Yep.” I clear my throat. “One I hoped you’d forgotten.”
“How could I? It was my first kiss too.”
I hadn’t known that. I’d gone through puberty thinking I’d made a huge fool of myself with a sophisticated woman. Now I find out, twenty years later, that I worried for nothing.
I raise my glass in salute, and Abby clicks hers against mine. “In that case,” I say, “I think we both sucked.”
“There might have been sucking. I’m not really sure.”
I lapse into laughter. It had been a stupid moment of my life, and I’m glad she can make fun of it without malice. We’ll joke—we’ll move on.
Except I suddenly don’t want to move on. What has Abby been doing all this time, and what kind of woman has she turned out to be?
A beautiful one with a smattering of freckles on her lightly tanned skin, fascinating eyes, and full-lipped mouth. Plus a hot body, which I am definitely not checking out.
My father, Alan McLaughlin, starts tinking his spoon against his glass. The waiters hurriedly finish pouring champagne into flutes and set them down on the tables.
Ryan leans around Calandra to eye me. “You’re on, dude.”
Shit. I take a gulp of the Scotch and stand up.
“Here’s goes nothing,” I whisper to Abby, and raise my waiting glass of champagne.