Page 49 of Kiss Slay Replay

“Tonight’s not for us, babe.”

“It could be,” he says, grinning.

“Later.”

“Later,” he repeats. He bites his lip, and if I haven’t already, I might go insane.

“I’m going to head over. Be a polite guest.”

“I should, too.” He rolls his shoulders back, adjusts his collar. “How do I look?”

“Good. Very good.” I smooth my dress. “And me?”

He gives me the once-over.

“Whoa,” he says, noticing my foot. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing.” I’m completely mortified.

He takes a step closer to me, brings his face to my face. “Who did this to you?”

I laugh, but he doesn’t. He’s a serious actor. I play along. “My…my…suitcase!”

That gets him. He cracks a smile. “Ah. I was going to avenge you, but I don’t fight luggage.”

“As a rule?”

“I have my morals, Willa.”

“You sure do,” I say, tapping a nail against his flask.

He slips it into his suit pocket and holds a finger up to his lips. Shh.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“I trust you,” he says.

Seconds pass. Minutes. We continue to just stand around, looking at each other, smiling. Wordlessly flirting.

“I’m waiting for you to go first,” he says. “I’m following your lead.”

“My lead? All right. They’ll probably start to—” I’m interrupted by the pianist. She plays that jaunty tune to quiet the crowd. It’s a real mood-killer. I turn to Danny. “Believe it or not, I think that’s our cue.”

He claps a hand over his mouth to stifle a laugh.

“I’m going to go find my friends,” I tell him.

“Okay. Hey. Later?”

“Yeah. I’ll find you.” I wish I could manage a sexy walk-away, but my mangled foot makes it impossible.

The pianist stands and announces, “On behalf of Stephanie and Jason, we welcome you to this celebration of their love. If you would please make your way to the lake and find a seat, the ceremony will begin shortly. Thank you.”

It’s hard to have déjà vu at a wedding because it’s all so fucking generic. It’s ninety-nine percent platitudes. Celebration of love. Of course I’ve heard this before. Everything is beautiful, but none of it is unique or surprising. I’m struggling to parse out the specifics, to gauge how concerned I should or shouldn’t be about my affliction.

But then there’s the Tanya of it all, and the Danny of it all, and if denial is a river, maybe I should surrender to its current just to get me through this day.

I catch another glimpse of Ravi. He abandons two empty glasses on a cocktail table. He keeps his chin to his chest, gaze down, maybe because he’s deliberately avoiding seeing me, or maybe for no reason at all. He turns his back and heads toward Tanya, who waits for him nearby, hand outstretched, ready to be taken. I down the rest of my drink.