“You mean, all those smoochy, nauseating ones?” Luci snickered. “I’ll never forget my brother’s guilty look and attempted diversion while you scrambled into your blouse when I dropped by unannounced. Back then, you two were all over each other, constantly.”
Nope, nope. Not having this conversation, especially after last night. Most definitely not with Jake’s little sister. When Jake planted himself beside me moments later, I almost hugged him for saving me from more of Luci’s embarrassing anecdotes.
He narrowed his eyes and pinched the bell beside his plate between two fingers, then tossed it beside the one I’d discarded. After he scanned the card, it met the same fate.
“I had nothing to do with the seating,” I said under my breath.
“Well, you’re stuck with me now.” He swigged the remainder of his drink and glanced around. “Where’s the damn bar?”
“There’s wine.” I leaned forward and reached for the bottle, even though I agreed with Jake. Another two or three of the fruity vodka concoctions might make this bearable and would be far superior to the wine on our table, but the servers had disappeared.
Jake scooped up the bottle and peered at the label. “Merlot? Since when do you drink that?” He focussed on the dregs in the tall glass clutched between my fingers, rose, and stalked across the room and out the double doors.
Luciana widened her eyes as she craned her neck, squinting in the direction her brother had disappeared. “Should I send a search party? He keeps running away.”
I lifted one hand and waved. “That’s my fault. Maybe I should make myself scarce.”
“Don’t be silly.” She leaned across his chair. “Don’t let Mister Grouchy Pants scare you off. He’s even impatient with me sometimes since Alysa died.” In a low voice, she said, “Thank you for comforting him at the ceremony. He’s struggling.”
I blinked hard, noting the shimmer in her eyes. “What happened to her?”
Luci’s eyes grew even shinier. “It was all so awful. I can’t …” She sniffled and turned her head away, dashing the back of her hand across her eyes.
A flash of movement made me look up.
Jake stood only inches away holding two cocktails, a bottle of wine tucked under one arm. He stared at his sister with a grim look, then closed his eyes for a moment before he placed one of the glasses in front of me, setting the other along with the new wine bottle at his spot.
“Thanks, Jake.” I wrapped my fingers around the cocktail, spinning it to occupy myself. What could I say to make this better?
Without a word, he drained his drink and opened the bottle of wine. The silence was only broken by the rich red liquid glugging into his glass, followed by the thump of the bottle against the table.
Before I could even try to talk to him, the other guests joined us, their cheerful chatter a merciful respite.
Between Luci’s chatter and Jake’s moody silence, dinner was almost unendurable. The newly married couple barely took their seats after one round of kissing when the tinkling of tiny bells had them rising to their feet again.
“Enough. Enough. We warned you.” Dean wagged a finger as the main instigators, situated at the table to his right, lifted their bells. He stood, opened the crystal jar, and held it out to his bride.
With a flourish, Dara pulled out a tiny vellum card and extended it to her new husband.
“Brian and Gina.” Dean scanned the room and pointed at a table to his left. “On your feet. Make it a good one.”
A couple rose, the man I supposed to be Brian giving Gina a peck on the lips before they sat.
A guy behind us let out a loud groan. “Dude, you can do better than that!”
I looked around, searching for the source of the unfamiliar voice before turning back to my serving of maple-glazed salmon. “Better them than me,” I said as several guests clapped and whistled, but mercifully, everyone soon returned to their dinner.
Only a few minutes later, the bells rang again.
I refilled my glass, sucking down half of my wine while Dean and Dara repeated the kissing jar process with another couple.
By the time the kissing-couple count reached seven, I was wishing for a hasty end to this torture, but the servers were delivering more bottles of wine. Nobody seemed in a rush to finish dinner. The alcohol-induced energy built, the buzz of conversation rising with the incessant ringing adding to the din.
Dean waved another card. “Christy and Brent.”
A couple at the table across from us stood, the man cupping the woman’s cheek, his tender smile almost making me weep. He kissed her long and hard and performed a small bow amid the applause and whistles.
I waggled my glass at Jake. “Quit hogging that Shiraz.”
He nodded and poured me a generous portion before returning to picking at his Chicken Kiev.
I sighed at yet another round of bells, glancing at the head table as Dara reached into the jar and handed another slip of paper to her new husband.
“Ah, this time our lucky couple is …” Dean chuckled. “Ohhhhh! Jake Cavallaro and the lovely Amara Grant.”
I froze, my glass halfway to my lips.
“Come on, buddy.” Dean pointed at Jake. “I see you there.”
Dara’s eyes widened as she stared in our direction. In fact, every set of eyes in the entire room was on us.
Vivienne, the traitor sitting on Dara’s right, was laughing behind cupped hands.
I slouched, sending a helpless look at Jake, whose knee bounced at a furious rate. “It’s okay, we don’t have to,” I muttered.
“Kiss, kiss, kiss.” Some guy at a table across the room began the chant, thumping his fist in a steady beat. “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
I sank lower, peeking toward the head table, then back at Jake who was now massaging his temple.
Dean, the rat bastard, grinned as he waved the card in our direction. “It’s just one little kiss.”
Another deep voice rose from two tables over. “Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her.” Feet stomped in
