Page 32 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“Nothing,” he says. “Just following the rules.”

“I’m pretty sure I said we can kiss at weddings,” I say, reaching for my glass of wine and wondering if my cheeks are the same color as the merlot.

“Another detail that must have slipped my mind,” he says and I can’t figure out if he’s just fucking with me or trying to keep me on my toes. Either way, unfortunately, it seems to be working.

Asshole.

Chapter 12

Quinn

“This place is unreal,”I say as Reid and I walk into the dining room of Kingsley Hall post ceremony, hand in hand, mind you.

“My thoughts exactly,” Reid mutters.

“I mean, look at pillars. And the marble flooring. And the ceiling! It looks like we are in the Sistine Chapel!” I gush; my neck craned upward in awe. It’s a good thing I am holding Reid’s hand, or I’d probably fall off my heels.

“Hardly,” he huffs. “I’ve been to the Sistine Chapel, and this is not it. Not even close,” he says, looking at his smartwatch and then shoving his free hand in the pocket of his black slacks.

“How can you be in a room like this at a wedding like this and be so disgruntle?” I ask, still staring up.

“Your answer is in your question,” he says, and I look back over at him. “It’s a wedding.”

“New rule,” I say without a smile because he has succeeded in sucking all the joy out of me. “You have to play the part while we are at the weddings.”

“What part is that?” he asks.

“The part of a supportive friend to the groom. The part of a decent human being who doesn’t see marriage as a death sentence.”

“I’ve never been good at acting,” he says flatly.

“Bullshit,” I whisper-yell because it’s not like we are alone in this room. “You’re a lawyer. All you do is act.”

“Correction,” he says. “Iperform,”

“Well, you better up your performance, Hamilton, because the bride and groom are headed our way and you’re center stage,” I mutter before smiling.

“Reid! You made it!” Andrea gushes, and her voice rattles through the room.

“He’s been my friend for ten years, Andie. I told you he’d be here,” AJ says as they stop in front of us.

“Yeah, well, considering who he is, I needed to see it for myself,” she says. “And here he is. With a date, nonetheless.”

“Nonetheless,” I smile back. “I’m Quinn,” I say, extending a hand. And it’s no secret they are studying me. But it’s less summing me up and more curiosity, probably because the infamous Reid the Love Killer doesn’t usually have a girl on his arm.

“It’s so good to meet you, Quinn,” Andie gushes, and AJ smiles too, though I do notice the eye he gives Reid. But I choose to ignore it and all other things negative because we are at a wedding in NYC’s version of Michelangelo’s best work and aboutto eat amazing food and drink fancy drinks and then dance so I blow a raspberry on their sad boy parade.

“This is just amazing,” I tell her. “The ceremony was amazing. Like, waterproof mascara amazing. I love the decor. And your dress is lovely! And the location? Chef’s kiss, seriously!”

“Awe thank you!” Andie says, pressing a freshly manicured nail to her chest with a pouty lip. “I like her. Reid, don’t fuck this up,” she says, and he grimaces. I love it.

“I don’t know what I like better,” I say, nibbling on baby quiches at our designated table. “The ceremony or the reception.”

“I know which one I like better,” Reid says, stabbing a quiche with a fork, and I look up at him. “Neither.”

I roll my eyes. “Now, Reid, what did we say about being a Debbie Downer?” I ask the question like I’m talking to a first grader who wants a snack but didn’t finish cleaning up the blocks on the floor.

“I’m not being negative,” he argues around chewing. “I’m stating facts.”