Page 49 of How to Ruin a Wedding

“What wasn’t?” Valerie answers again. “The obvious one is scowling right beside you.”

In answer, Anders grabs a free glass and takes another shot.

“Like him, Aunt Bethany had a big problem with us. Thinks the age gap is too large, but it’s not like I’m freshly eighteen years old and he’s been waiting by the clock until I officially became legal. Is seven years really that bad?”

“It’s a big gap,” I admit, “but you are an adult.”

“Thankyou,” she says pointedly, “and I can make my own decisions. Sleep with who I want to sleep with.”

“Christ—” Anders mutters.

“John is the one who didn’t want to pursue it. I’m the instigator. He kept pulling away from me, kept shutting me down because he was worried he’d ruin his friendship with Anders. But love is love, and it can’t be contained.”

“Are you still worried about that?” I ask John. “About how you and Anders can’t even look at each other right now?”

“Lucinda—” Anders starts, and I wonder if I came off too strong. But really what I’m hearing is that, eventually, Johnstoppedcaring about Anders’s feelings, and if so, fine, but what was it that made him stop?

“I guess,” I say, trying to put together some missing pieces, “what I’m trying to ask is, why right now? Why have you decided Valerie is the one. What happened?”

“What is this, an interrogation?” Valerie asks.

“A friendly questionnaire,” I assure her, but the way she doesn’t speak for John leads me to believe that this is a question she, too, would like an answer to. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No,” John answers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of music and vibration of drunken conversations. “I just fell in love with her. I know it’s fast, but we’ve been without each other for this long, we want to hurry up and spend the rest of our lives together.” He looks toward Anders. “I’m sorry if it’s come between us.”

“It hasn’t,” Anders answers smoothly, and I can’t tell if he’s just saying that, or if he thinks they’ll be okay in the future, once John and Valerie don’t marry.

“This is bringing the vibe down,” Valerie says. “We need more drinks.”

“I’ll get this round,” I offer, trying to wiggle out of the booth, but Anders is in the corner seat, and I need him to move, or I’ll have to shove my ass in his face to get out.

When I see his mischievous smirk, I shove him. “Get up,” I say, the words caught in a laugh.

He moves out, takes my hand, and helps me up. “I’ll go with you.”

I place my hands on his shoulder and shove him back down. “I’m a big girl,” I say, and he grabs my arm, pulling me toward him.

“Take my card,” he says, and though half of me thinks the sound and feel of his words on the skin beneath my ear is more pleasurable than humanly possible, it’s a little embarrassing he thinks I can’t cover one round of shots.

I can’t, but still. That’s what credit cards are for—future me problems.

“I can handle it.” I tap his cheek gently and head to the bar.

There’s no real line anywhere, just pockets of people all trying to flag down the bartenders. After scanning the crowd, I set my sights on a man with cropped hair and a shirt nearly bursting at the seams around his biceps. I pull my white top lower, so my breasts—aided by my very best push up—nearly spill out.

This maneuver gets several men to offer me their spots, so it takes mere seconds for me to reach the sticky bar, and even less for my target bartender to ignore his other patrons and come to me.

“What can I get you, beautiful?” he says in a drawl.

“Three double shots of whiskey.” I lean in, pressing my breasts together, fluttering my eyelashes.

“Keep looking at me like that, darling, and I couldn’t possibly charge ya.”

“Yeah.” I reach over and run my nail up his arm. “Prove it.”

He holds a hand over his heart before moving along, making my shots like a good, easy man.

Life is hard, but taking advantage of horny men is always easy.