Page 19 of The Wedding Party

When the tour is over, Oliver and I end up in the hotel bar with a group of friends. We drink, laugh, and have a great time. And yet, just beneath his surface, Oliver is still on edge, not all here, not himself, which is unexpected. He’s assured me that he’s wrapped up his business problems and done so with a big bow on top. But because he’s edgy, I’m edgy. On the bright side, Lana and Josh are getting along marvelously.

I nudge Oliver, who’s in deep conversation with his groomsman Nick, and I lift a finger toward the corner where Lana and Josh sit at a private table, an intimate tilt of their bodies toward one another. I saw Lana and Brody flirting earlier, but I doubt there will be a fight over her. It wouldn’t be the first time those two had swapped the same woman. Oliver tries to protect “his boys,” but I work in an ER. Getting to the truth is half the battle we face in emergency medicine. I’ve learned to see what isn’t obvious to most. Josh is the right choice for Lana. Not that I’d ever explain why, and if Josh keeps doing what he’s doing, my silence won’t matter.

Oliver glances in their direction and grimaces, apparently not as pleased with the pairing as I am. “They’re both amazing people,” I say.

“And our friends,” he points out. “Once they get naked together and end badly, they’ll avoid each other and maybe us.”

“Or maybe,” I offer, “they’ll fall in love and get married.”

He runs a finger over my jawline. “Always the romantic. I love that about you.”

I catch his hand. “Stop being a pessimist. Give them a chance.”

“You say that now, but soon it will be ‘Oliver! Cleanup on aisle eight.’”

“Oh shit,” Trevor says, tapping the table in front of Oliver. “There’s talk of Edelman coming back to football. And guess where?”

“Who cares?” Oliver replies. “Brady retired. They were better together.”

From there, they launch into football talk that includes someone named Mahomes.

And just like that, the topic of friends falling in love with friends is over.

At the other end of the table, Bianca and Sally are in an intense conversation about wallpaper, leaving me trapped between wallpaper and football. I decide this is a good time to hunt down my drink the waitress seems to have forgotten.

I walk to the bar and lean on the counter, my back to our group. The bartender is quick to attend to my needs, and soon I have a martini in front of me. This one is pineapple, a drink I noticed Andi chose earlier. It caught my interest, but then, everything about her intrigues me. I wasn’t joking when I told her I’m a true crime buff. It’s actually an obsession that sometimes drives Oliver a little crazy. “Are you planning my future murder?” he once asked me.

It was a horrible joke and we fought afterward, but the flowers he got me to make up were beautiful. Lilacs. I adore lilacs, while my mother says they remind her of death, which is silly. She’s going to freak out when she sees the lilacs at my wedding. On that note, I reach into my purse, discreetly grab my bottle of pills, and pop my cocktail of drugs, which I down with my martini.

“Does your doctor know you’re taking those with alcohol?”

I glance up to find Cade standing next to me. The truth is that I’ve never really liked Cade much. He’s arrogant, with a bit of a God complex, and therefore I’ve never understood what a humble, kind man like Oliver sees in him.

“My doctor,” I say, “doesn’t care what I take my vitamins with as long as I take them. In fact,” I add, “I believe he’d be quite impressed that I took them while on vacation.”

He smirks and motions to the bartender. “Whisky sour, and give me the top-shelf booze, whatever you recommend.” The bartender gives a nod and walks away.

Cade leans on the bar and eyes me. “Good little bride-to-be, taking her vitamins.”

“Back to this?” I say. “You’re obsessed with my vitamins, aren’t you.”

“More like entertained. Oliver won’t even take an aspirin for a headache, and you’re a cocktail-and-pills kind of gal. But opposites attract, right?”

“We’re hardly opposites,” I say, boldly sipping my drink. I will not be made to feel anything I’m doing is wrong. I grew up doubting myself, and my marriage is a celebration of believing in myself. That’s what Oliver has done for me. Taught me to believe in myself. “Shouldn’t you be with the men, chatting about football and guy stuff?” I challenge.

“My mother is a rather formal, proper woman,” he replies. “She taught me the bride-to-be is always the star of the party.” The bartender sets Cade’s drink down, and he gives him his room number before eyeing me. “Congratulations, Carrie. You are Oliver’s perfect bride.”

He picks up his glass and walks away.

His words feel like a compliment. And yet somehow, they’re flavored with a bit of that sour in his whisky sour, and I don’t know what to make of it. I wonder if he’s the one who sent that box.

Suddenly Oliver and Josh are on either side of me. “Hey, baby,” Oliver says, kissing me and then sipping from my glass.

“Thanks for the intro to Lana,” Josh adds. “I like her.”

“You better like her enough to be good to her,” I chide. “If you mess with her—”

“I’m not that guy,” he says quickly. “You know I’m not that guy.”