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Was she thinking about our moment from earlier? When I almost did something crazy, like grip that slender, enticing neck of hers and pull her in for a kiss? I knew from personal experience that she tasted like heaven and sin, wrapped all in one.
“-Congratulations to the most annoyingly perfect and cute couple I know!”
Polite applause followed Scarlet’s maid of honor toast and I took a swig of my drink, rolling my eyes. Speaking of do overs, I wish I had a time machine so I could go back and do a hard pass on hooking up with her. Hell, I’d turn the dial back a little further and go back to that elevator on New Year’s Eve-
Rob nudged me and before I could call him on it, he directed his cloudy eyes at my glass. I was the only one at the table not holding mine up. I remedied the gaffe smoothly, then downed my champagne in a single gulp, garnering a parental sigh from Denise and an uncomfortable, ‘I’m gonna pay for that later’ chuckle from Scott.
Silence filled the room, but I barely noticed because I was trying to remember why I hadn’t invited Natalee to my room. There’d been no one else that night.
“Ahem.”
This nudge came from Scott and was sharp enough that I was pulled from the past, dumped unceremoniously into the present.
I massaged my bicep, frowning at him. “Did I burp?” I hissed under my breath. “Fart inappropriately?”
Denise popped her head over, like she was the teacher and we were a wayward bunch of rambunctious students. Her face was a plastic, seemingly happy thing, but she was killing me with her eyes. I never understood what Scott saw in the woman. The whole blonde, blue eyed, Stepford wife thing, complete with pearls, seemed like it would get old after about five minutes. And it didn’t help that she was the kind of woman that got off on making her man feel two feet tall.
“It’s your turn to give a toast, Jason,” she said acidly. “If you even have one.”
Scott clapped me on the shoulder, mirroring her tight grin.
Totally whipped. It was a damn shame.
“Of course he has a toast.” Scott’s smile wavered. “Don’t you?”
If it wasn’t so quiet, Denise would have likely followed the statement with some incredulous sound that reverberated from the back of her throat but instead, she sat up tall in her seat like a queen on her throne. “It appears our best man-”
“Is ready to give his speech,” I finished for her.
I took great enjoyment from her indignant reaction to my interjection. She even shot her beady eyes to Scott, her eyebrows lurching like she was sending him a not-so-silent message to handle his friend.
When I’d accepted this best man gig, I’d googled ‘Best Man Toasts’ and the running theme seemed to be to speak from the heart.
I looked out into the sea of expectant faces. “Anybody who knows me knows that Scott and I are cut from the same cloth. Bright, hell on wheels when it comes to coding, and lethal when it comes to women.”
Chuckles drifted around the room after my last bit and I took the opportunity to wing it, emboldened by the booze and the fact that this would be my last chance to really say how I felt about this whole thing. “Scott is like the brother I never had. We’ve been through it all.” A wary smile was glued to my best friend’s lips. “Remember after Hawaii junior year and I was worried about that rash?”
A bonafide gasp erupted from the bride’s side of the table. Probably from Denise’s equally uptight mother.
“I kid, I kid. But not about what matters. I’d do anything for you, man. Including standing by while you marry Satan’s spawn because she decided it was time to start a family.”
Now the gasps were echoing from everyone in the room, along with some uncomfortable laughter.
“Congratulations on the beginning of the end!” I finished. I held up my glass, but no one else lifted theirs...including Natalee.
She looked horrified.
My stomach dropped as I realized that I’d seen that look before.
It was the same look she had in the elevator, the moment I showed her just how big of a jerk I could be.
CHAPTER FIVE: NATALEE
"He can't be that bad. He runs a non profit that teaches underprivileged kids how to code."
I almost snapped my pencil in half, but I settled for pausing on my sketch pad. The lead was laser focused on the second tier of an upcoming Game of Thrones themed cake I was working on. I'd literally squealed at the opportunity to channel all the drama and intrigue of Westeros in buttercream and chocolate. I had no idea that the Mitchell wedding would devolve into a clusterfuck that even the Lannisters would balk at.
Even though Tamara had been right there with me when Jason Cox had unceremoniously announced that the Mitchell's were expecting, which was swiftly followed by Denise hurling her drink in his smug face, she was still trying to sell me on giving the jerk a second chance. I had a feeling it was less about my best interests and more about living vicariously through me since she'd been finding shirtless pictures of him lounging in exotic locales like Greece and Japan ever since.
