Page 100 of Gin and Bear It

We goof off for a while longer before we all have to get dressed for the wedding. There’s yet another small reception for everyone while we wait for the ceremony, but Jada’s not there—she’s helping Bianca and getting dressed herself. But that means my family is around, and I can’t easily avoid them. At least it’s just our close family.

“Ashley, your shirt buttons…” Mom gestures vaguely at my button-down shirt, which was designed to be worn partially open. The dress code was “beach chic,” and this vaguely fits the bill.

“It’s intentional. There aren’t buttons all the way up, and it’s hot.”

“Ridiculous. Who makes a shirt without buttons?” Dad grumbles. “Who wears it to their brother’s wedding? No wonder Waylon didn’t choose you as a groomsman.”

I stare at him as he sips his drink, a quiet realization taking over me. It’s such an offhand comment, one of many, but it hits me at the right time.

The jab is completely unnecessary and stings, but not as much as it has in the past. Dad is an asshole and will always be. There’s nothing I can say or do or change about myself to fix it. He might not like my clothes or my choices, but there are people who do. Many of them are here, including Jada.

Does it suck that my dad seemingly dislikes me? Completely. But I’m starting to see that it’s entirely his problem, not mine. It’s not my brothers’ fault that he favored them, even a tiny bit, though I’m seeing that all of us have a weird relationship with our father. I let comparison mess with what could have been a support system my whole life.

“He didn’t choose any groomsmen at all because he didn’t want us to do anything,” I finally say with a shrug. “Bianca doesn’t have official bridesmaids, either.”

Dad narrows his eyes at me. I guess my calm tone gets to him more than my usual snappy responses. I’m too tired from my lack of sleep and my worries about my future to give him an ounce more energy.

“It’s true,” Mom adds. “And the shirt is nice, but everything is…out. You’re very handsome and this is a beach wedding, but still.”

Mom fusses over me in her way—worried but loving—until it’s time to go sit down for the ceremony. Jada rushes in last minute and sits next to me.

“Hey. Sorry, there was a minor hair emergency,” she says, breathless.

“It’s okay.” I rest my hand on her leg. Her dress is a rich orange, hugging her body in a simple sheath. It’s the same shade as the setting sun. “You look beautiful.”

She looks conflicted for a moment, but smiles. “Thanks. I like your shirt.”

The music starts moments later, and the officiant and Waylon come out first. Jada sniffles when Bianca starts down the aisle on her father’s arm.

Waylon tears up but doesn’t full-on cry. He smiles a lot, but I’ve never seen one almost split his face in half like this one, as he’s looking at his bride.

I steal a glance at Jada, who’s dabbing at her eye makeup. JD said that I look at Jada like I love her. And as Waylon reads his vows, everything he says about how he feels for Bianca is how I feel for Jada.

Just being with her, even if we’re bullshitting or dealing with a stressful day, grounds me. I don’t have to pretend to be anyone I’m not, and neither does she. Her energy is always bright and contagious, and she surprises me in a good way more times than I can count.

I swallow. The fear of her losing her feelings for me is fading. Hell, she barely liked me when we first got married. Who said that growing meant growing apart?

Waylon and Bianca kiss, and we cheer as the DJ plays them out. We’re herded to the reception space a short walk away while the photographer takes photos. Fairy lights are strung up everywhere, and long tables are dotted with beautiful flower arrangements. The dance floor is close to the water.

“How jacked up is my makeup?” Jada asks, still sniffling.

“It didn’t survive the tears,” I say.

“I figured. I’ll be right back.”

She walks toward the bathroom, leaving me alone. A big board has our seating assignments, so I look for our names.

“Lovely ceremony, wasn’t it?” Ruby says, appearing by my side.

“Yeah, it was,” I reply. The DJ starts playing music over near us, and Ruby grins. “Is this one of yours?”

“A good friend’s song. It was one of those things that came together once that first domino fell.” She steps aside so people can see the board, so I move along with her. “Have you thought about the incubator? I know it’s been less than twenty-four hours, but I can shoot an email to my business partner as soon as I get back to my room if you want.”

I blow out a breath and glance past her head. I see Jada making her way over, stopping to chat with a waiter who has a tray of little snacks.

“I’m interested, but my wife’s life is back in our hometown,” I say. “We haven’t been married long, and I’m not sure how that kind of distance would work. Especially if it’s for a long time. We would never be together. And I like the idea of being able to write songs without immediate pressure, but surely there’s a commercial aspect of it somewhere, right?”

Ruby takes a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. “I wouldn’t call it a catch. But there’s a revenue split – the incubator gets a cut of the earnings from songs produced there. It’s a fair split.”