Page 72 of Elf-ish

I don’t even know why I’m so worked up, but I cross my arms and glare at him.

Which is the position I’m in when Beau re-enters the living room.

“Angie,” he says a little too loudly. “My beautiful sister, Angelica. Queen of organization and family functions.”

Oh boy.

“Have you found us a wedding venue yet?”

“Venue?” I choke. “You said you were looking for a restaurant. One that holds twenty people.”

Beau slides up to me, wraps his arm around my shoulders, and tugs me tightly into his side. “And now I need space for fifty. Belle’s family is slowly getting on board with the wedding, and we need to expand our horizons.” He waves his hand outward like a snowy landscape is in front of us.

He tips up his chin at Jude, finally noticing him. “What’s up?”

As the youngest child in our four pack, this is typical Beau. He needs to be the center of attention, and he needs everything done for him. It’s a wonder he’s as successful as he is.

He extends his hand to Jude. “Beau. Her favorite brother.”

Not exactly the truth.

“Jude Ashford,” Jude counters, his jaw tight. His smile is a pinched one, not even the practiced pleasant one. “Her boyfriend.”

Beau squeals like a teenage girl, lifting his hands in front of his lips and doing a little two-step jig.

“Sister’s got a boyfriend,” he sings while pinching my cheeks.

I close my eyes with embarrassment before quickly pulling away from his fingers and punching his stomach, to which he exaggerates the effect and calls out to Gran.

“Gran, Angie hit me.” He pouts.

“Beau, quit picking on your sister,” Gran hollers back, knowing the truth.

“Rude.” He winks at Jude. “But I still love you, Gran.”

Beau claps his hands once, and with both hands joined, he points at me. “Venue. Wedding. Ten days.”

“Beau,” I sigh, exasperated by him. “We aren’t going to find a—”

“You could use the Oak Room.”

Beau swivels his head toward Jude while I blink at the suggestion.

“The Oak Room?” Beau echoes. “As in the Oak Room in Ashford’s.” Beau narrows his eyes as things begin to click in his youthful brain.

“Ashford. Like the Ashford’s,” Beau adds.

“Yes,” I snap. “We’ve established the Oak Room and Ashford’s.” I point at Jude. “But the answer is no.”

No. Absolutely not to Beau getting married or throwing a reception in that beautiful oak-paneled room with high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Why not?” Beau asks innocently.

“What’s wrong with the Oak Room?” Jude questions, his voice growing tighter.

“Nothing is wrong with the Oak Room. It’s perfect.” I address Jude first, then turn to Beau. “But you still aren’t getting it for your wedding.”

Beau pouts. “But why?”