“What are you grinning about?” Joyce asked her as she moved to stand beside Mel.
“Just happy for Tate and Angie,” she said. She didn’t want to start talking about her marriage to Joe, because Joyce would start planning.
“They are a lovely couple,” Joyce agreed.
They both turned to look at Angie and Tate. They were standing with Manny Martinez and his girlfriend, Holly Hartzmark, and her daughter, Sidney. It occurred to Mel that Tate and Angie would likely have kids soon. After all, the business was doing amazing and they were in their thirties.
“So, what do you think of the Biltmore?” Joyce asked.
“Huh?” Mel turned back to her mother and met the blue-green hazel gaze so like her own.
“For your wedding to dear Joe?” Joyce asked. “You know, you really need to set a date. You’re not getting any younger.”
Mel smiled. She should have seen this coming. Joyce would never be at peace until Mel was married. Mel decided to make it easy for her mother for a change and accept the suggestion.
“I’ll ask Joe what he thinks,” Mel said.
“You will?”
“Yep.”
“I . . . well . . . that’s . . .”
“You okay, Mom?” Mel asked.
“Yes, it’s just that you never listen to me,” Joyce said. She gave Mel a look as if she was afraid Mel had contracted some rare tropical virus. “Are you feeling all right? You’re not pregnant, are you?”
“Mom!” Mel wailed.
“Pregnant people act weird,” Joyce said. “It’s a fact.”
Mel noticed heads were turning in their direction with wide eyes. Oh, man, if this crazy idea of her mother’s got loose there’d be no corralling it.
“I am not pregnant,” Mel said. She had to say it loud enough so that Angie’s cousins, who were clearly eavesdropping, could hear her.
“If you say so, honey.” Joyce grinned at her as if she were in on a secret.
Mel slapped her forehead with her hand. “I need a drink.”
“You really shouldn’t in your condition,” Joyce said.
“Oh. My. God.” Mel turned on her heel and walked away from her mother to find a punch bowl to dive into or a crack in the wall in which to disappear.
She slammed right into Uncle Stan, who was approaching with two drinks in hand. Mel reached out and took one and downed it in one large swallow.
It was a Manhattan. It burnt like jet fuel. Her eyes watered. She sputtered and coughed.
“Mel!” Uncle Stan frowned. “That was for your mother.”
“Yeah, well, she drove me to it,” she said.
She gave him the empty glass and pushed past him and maneuvered her way over to Oz and Marty. They were chatting it up with a bunch of single cousins and an aunt who had flown in from New York for the festivities.
“What are you two doing?” Mel asked. She threw an arm around each of their shoulders and hugged them hard. “Have I ever told you guys how much I love you?”
Marty swiveled his head in her direction and wrinkled his nose. “You smell like a cheap date; have you been drinking?”
“Not enough,” Mel said.
Oz looked at her and shook his head as if he was seeing a side of her he could have lived without.
“It was one drink; relax, you judgmental jennies,” Mel said. “Hey, do you think they’re going to have karaoke? I could really bust out a ballad about now.”
“What was in that one drink? Gasoline?” Marty looped his arm around Mel’s back and gestured to Oz. “Come on, someone needs to carb up on some appetizers before she embarrasses herself.”
With Oz and Marty trotting her after a waiter with a tray of crab puffs, Mel noted that the room was pretty full and dinner would likely start soon. Thank goodness, she was starving.
When Marty tapped the waiter’s shoulder, he turned and held out the tray to them. Oz took the whole tray and when the waiter took a good look at the hulking man-boy with the lip rings and the bangs that covered his eyes, he clasped his hands together and backed away.
The three of them took the tray to the corner, where Marty handed Mel a napkin and said, “Eat.”
Mel did not need to be told twice. After stuffing three of the delicate pastries into her face hole, Mel felt a bit better. Clearly the drink had been ill advised, but truly only her mother could drive her to drink that fast.
“So, how come you two are without the plus-ones?” she asked. She looked at Marty. “I thought you’d make up with Olivia in time to bring her to the wedding.” He shrugged. She turned to Oz and asked, “And what about Lupe? Is she coming tomorrow?”
“She couldn’t make it,” he said. “She said to say ‘hey.’”
“Oh.” Mel frowned. The quick shot of alcohol was rapidly leaving her system as she sensed Oz’s hurt. “Are you o—”
“Now, Oz and I have been thinking about Tate and Angie’s wedding gift,” Marty said.
Mel looked at him. He was standing just behind Oz and he was jerking his head towards Oz and bugging his eyes out, meaning something was wrong and Mel should tread carefully. She blinked twice to let him know she got it.
“I really think Oz making their wedding cupcakes is gift enough,” Mel said. “Did you finish them?”
“This afternoon,” Oz said. He looked like he’d wilt with relief. “All I have to do is get them set up tomorrow and we’re good.”
“I bet they’re amazing,” Mel said.
Oz’s face blushed a little beneath the bangs, and Mel knew he was pleased. She couldn’t resist, so she raised her hand and moved aside his hair so she could look him in the eye.
“I’m really proud of you, you know that, right?” she asked.
This time Oz turned bright red and he didn’t have his hair to hide behind. To her surprise, instead of pulling away he
