13

VEEJAY

Two days before the wedding, 6 P.M.

After a few hours in the lobby bar catching up, everyone retired to clean up and dress for the evening. Now, the entire gang was on the second-floor outdoor balcony of one of the hotel’s restaurants, the one that was hosting the welcome dinner. It was an expansive space, but private to them for the evening and elegantly set up with tall cocktail tables and two makeshift bars, one on the north end and one on the south. The sunset had faded to darkness on a downward spiral to the west. The surrounding palm trees swayed in the breeze as if they were the rope in an invisible game of tug-of-war.

There, they all met Trevor’s parents for the first time.

Vee couldn’t believe that this spawn of the Devil came from two such lovely people. Margot Vaughn was a retired schoolteacher herself, which explained the bond Fiona always described them having. She stood around five-foot-seven, and her dark hair was dyed a harsh color that came off as unnatural, especially for a woman of her age, which Vee believed to be upper fifties, maybe even early sixties. She wore what old people would call “spectacles,” with dark frames that appeared to be bifocal from the thin line cutting through the glass in the middle. Her outfit was a version of what someone wore on Dynasty in the eighties (he’d seen repeats in India), with sequins and shoulder pads; yet, on her, it draped elegantly down her thin frame. It looked heavy and he didn’t understand how she wasn’t passing out from the heat.

Harrison Vaughn was also retired—he used to write children’s books. Trevor’s looks were definitely inherited from his handsome father—it was clear that this man was a heartbreaker when he was younger. The dark hair, the cheekbones, and the charisma must’ve been in the Vaughn DNA. He wore a three-piece suit despite the grating heat, with a chain peeking from the lower vest pocket. A pocket watch, thought Vee. How quaint. Both of the Vaughns were accommodating and pleasant and showed no signs of the narcissism or sociopathy that fueled their son.

Vee and his travel buddies all stood at a cocktail table, taking in the moon hovering over the Atlantic, the water trickling onto the beach. The weather had cooled down a smidge, and he was dressed casually in chinos and a short-sleeved button-down shirt, as were Dutch and Ethan. Emma and Allie both wore sundresses. Vee breathed deeply to take in the smell of coconuts and pineapple, something that always fascinated him when he escaped to a tropical place like this, which he didn’t do often. The first time he’d been around a palm tree as a child, he thought that pineapples, with their spiky skin and green top, grew up to be palm trees.

Trevor and Fiona interrupted his seagull-like serenity when they approached the table with a bottle of champagne and seven glasses. Trevor popped the top off the bottle the way they do in the movies (like a douchebag) with the cork darting across the room, and everyone turned their way and cheered at the loud noise. The champagne bubbles overflowed off the top of all the glasses and six of the friends picked them up.

Emma didn’t.

Right. She mentioned something earlier about the bubbles bothering her stomach, Vee thought. That must’ve been why she’d been clutching it on and off all afternoon.

“Wait,” Emma said, her fingers grazing the stem of the only glass still sitting on the table. “I’m glad it’s just us right now. Look, I don’t want to make a big deal, and I don’t want to steal your thunder Fiona, but I won’t be drinking this weekend. Or, for the next seven months.”

It was a screech like a fire engine, the way Allie screamed. Immediately, she threw her arms around Emma. Dutch shook hands with Ethan, congratulating him. Emma glowed, while Vee flung his arms around her. He couldn’t believe it, yet he could. Inside, he was bursting for one of his closest friends. The pride on Ethan’s face was noticeable and Vee pulled him in for a big hug as well.

Vee figured it would be the happiest moment of the entire weekend.

Fiona stood with a closed-lipped smile, and Trevor didn’t move a muscle. Did they think Emma was trying to one-up their wedding?

“Sorry about doing it now. Here,” Emma said, reading Vee’s mind. “We couldn’t put it off until the twelve-week mark. We assumed you’d all wonder why I’m not drinking in Miami of all places. And it’s your wedding. I mean, hello!”

“Why does everyone wait until twelve weeks, anyway?” Trevor asked.

Emma had to educate him. “Because there’s blood tests and genetic tests and all sorts of things that can happen before that. I’m only about two months in. Technically, I’m not really in the clear yet.” She paused and placed her open palm on her flat belly. Her light green eyes glassed over, obviously worried about what could still be. “We haven’t told anyone in our families yet. We’re only telling you guys for now.”

“Well, we feel very special that you shared it this weekend,” Trevor said with a sigh of resignation. He put his arm around Fiona and kissed her temple.

Vee didn’t think he seemed sincere, but then again, he was a sociopath, and they weren’t capable of empathy or true happiness for another. Still, Vee wondered why he looked like someone was about to push him off a ledge when he grabbed a cocktail napkin and wiped the sweat off his forehead.