Casey started to tear up again. He grabbed her shoulders and looked her straight in the eye, cutting her off. “And what I’m telling you is—marry Nathan.”
Hope flooded her weary, makeup-streaked face. “You really think?”
“That’s part of the fun of a relationship, right?” If relationships should be classified as such. Then he shook his head briefly to clear the temptation to dive into the past. This wasn’t about Kelsey, this was about Casey. And she and Nathan were different—anyone could see that. “Taking time to discover someone is a good thing. You guys are just going to be doing that while you’re married, is all.”
“Maybe.” She gnawed on her lower lip, relief dotting her expression. “So, it’s just cake, right? One more discovery?”
“Exactly.” He released her, giving her an awkward, obligatory pat on the arm. “Don’t worry. You guys put the stats to shame.”
Before he could stop her, she flung herself against him in a tight hug. “Thank you,” she said, her voice muffled. “I think I just needed someone to tell me it was going to be okay. It’s been so overwhelming.” Her tears soaked his sleeve. “I can’t wait to tell Nathan.”
“Yeah, looks like it.”
Gerard looked up at the agitated male voice sounding to his right.
Turned out he wasn’t as good at dodging fists as he was beanbags.
CHAPTER
TWENTY-ONE
Bri sank into one of the few empty folding chairs, the arches of her feet throbbing in her high-heel pumps she’d worn for the better part of the evening. Her lower back ached, too, along with a tension headache forming behind her eyes. But it’d been worth it. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch. Pastor John had led a moving ceremony that had everyone dabbing their eyes. The announcement kiss had been a wolf-whistler, and the toddler girls had behaved themselves perfectly—short of one mini-tantrum during the unity candle lighting.
Now, Casey glowed as she danced in Nathan’s arms, the fabric of her dress swishing like a bell over the top of her shoes. At the side of the dance floor, which had been formed to the left of the gazebo where they’d said their vows, her daughters painted each other’s faces with cake icing, giggling as they clutched their mini-bouquets in their free hands. Guests milled about in their Sunday dresses, sipping golden punch from the table set up under the decorated arch. The entire fire department had shown up in uniform to support their brother, some with radios strapped to their belts to keep an ear out for calls. The fire truck was parked in front of the bakery on the street, ready to go just in case—which had been a big hit with the kids.
So far, the night, decorated with sheer fabric and twinkling stars and tiki torches, couldn’t have gone any better. But Bri still couldn’t shake the constant edge of nausea gnawing at her stomach. Every time she started to enjoy the evening, the mental image of that yellowed photo in her mother’s trunk took center stage, and she was right back to reminding herself to breathe evenly. This wasn’t the time to process her discovery. This was Casey’s night, and she deserved for everything to go perfectly.
Speaking of which . . . Bri snuck a harried peek over her shoulder at the dessert table. The petit fours were being consumed at a steady pace, but it didn’t look like she needed to grab any refills from the kitchen yet.
“Stop it.”
Bri looked up in surprise as Gerard dropped into the chair next to her. He filled the space with authority, the broad width of his shoulders filling out a gray dress shirt that lightened his eyes.
She swallowed, hating his proximity and the way it affected her, yet overwhelmed with the urge to lean into his strength. She crossed her arms instead. “Stop what?”
“Stressing. It’s over. You did it—she’s hitched.” He angled toward her in his chair, hooking his arm over the back. “Now, breathe, Cupcake.” He shot her a wink, and her stomach tripped.
She looked away, back at the happy couple twirling on the dance floor. Nathan leaned in close to hear something Casey said, then tilted his head back and laughed. The joy in his expression made her want to cry happy tears for her friend.
Or maybe they were more like tears in general.
She forced a smile. “I’m keeping an eye on the petit fours.”
“I know. Like I said, stop it.” He was watching her, she could feel it, his eyes boring into her profile.
A random bout of self-consciousness hit her, and she tugged slightly at the hem of her dress—a pale pink sheath that hit right above her knees and went perfectly with the cream pumps currently threatening to murder her toes one by one. She hadn’t stopped long enough earlier to decide if she felt pretty, but with Gerard staring at her like that, she suddenly really wanted to know.
These waters were way too dangerous to tread in her condition. Maybe she’d go grab those petit fours after all and squeeze them into the half-full trays.
Which reminded her. She twisted in her seat and squinted at Gerard. “How many petit fours did you eat tonight?”
Now he stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. “Two.”
She quirked an eyebrow at him.
“Okay, four.”
“Gerard.” She lowered her tone in warning.
“Fine, I lost count after six. Don’t judge.”
A reluctant grin escaped, along with a bit of tension from her shoulders. Here she was, in the most romantic setting possible, depressed over love, and Gerard of all people was the one cheering her up. She’d definitely fallen into some kind of rabbit hole. Alice would probably appear in a moment, flanked by two playing cards and a giant teacup.
The DJ hired for the night turned on a new song, a slow country ballad. She swung her foot to the beat, determined to
