Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103530 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 414(@250wpm)___ 345(@300wpm)
“Mom and Dad okay with the place?” he asked, glancing around the room.
“Yeah, haven’t you seen them?”
“I have, but you know they’re not going to complain about anything to me.” He held up a hand to refuse sausage from another server as we moved down the line. “Do they like the place?”
“Mom thought it would be too loud from the second we arrived. But other than that, I haven’t heard any complaints yet. And do you really want to know about them?” Sometimes, Scott’s desire to please our parents drove me up one wall, over the ceiling, and down the other. “Are you going to put them up in a different hotel? Move the whole resort somewhere else?”
“Fair, fair.” He let the subject drop. “How about you? Not that you’ve had much time to look around.”
“I saw an alligator. Kind of.” Klaxons went off in my brain. What if he’d talked to Matthew today and knew about the alligator? It didn’t have to be Matthew’s alligator that I saw. It could have been another alligator. There was more than one in South Carolina.
“Kind of?”
“It was under a bridge here on the resort. There were guys in a golf cart trying to remove it. I saw it while I was out looking for—” I cut myself off. “Seashells.”
“Right.” Scott sighed in resignation. “I’m sure if you ask any of the guys in my wedding party, they’ll have seashells. I’m sure they’d share.”
Oh, they would. At least, one of them would. I shook my head. “Nah. I found my own seashells.”
“Probably better. My friends are reprobates.” He looked over his shoulder and raised his free hand to wave to someone. My eyes followed the motion. I couldn’t help it. I hadn’t seen Matthew this morning and I almost jumped out of my skin every time I’d thought I’d caught a glimpse of him. But the man Scott waved to was a skinny Black man with a graying goatee and glasses with thick black rims. Exactly the type of nerd I’d expect Scott to hang with. Nothing that screamed “reprobate.”
Which made me wonder how the hell a guy like Matthew had ended up in the same social circle.
“That’s Leo,” Scott informed me as the guy turned to reveal his cellphone was clipped to his belt.
How. How did Matthew Ashe end up friends with these dorks?
“Leo was in our chess club,” Scott went on. “He’s a very predictable player. He learned Ruy Lopez and never deviates.”
“Fascinating.” I rolled my eyes.
“I’m the groom,” he reminded me. “It’s my day. I can be as boring as I want.”
“Saturday is your day,” I corrected him. “And even then, it’s probably still Lauren’s day.”
“True,” he agreed. We slid down the line and he pointed out which fresh fruits he wanted to the gentleman behind the glass. “Fine, we’ll talk about your favorite subject instead. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing great. Never better,” I lied. “Unemployed. Mooching off our parents. You’re such a sucker for going out and getting a degree and a good life and big paychecks.”
“My paychecks aren’t that big,” Scott corrected me. “There’s no way I would have been able to afford this wedding on my own. All you need to do in life, little sister, is make friends with someone who’s super rich.”
“I’ll get right on that.” Poor choice of words. Because I had definitely made friends and gotten right on Matthew the night before.
“Come on,” Scott said as I collected my silverware. “I want you to meet Lauren’s parents.”
I recoiled inwardly. The Bear People. That’s what Mom called them. She and Dad had flown out to Montana for Easter, a holiday the Bear People celebrated but our family did not, shortly after Scott and Lauren got engaged. Our mother was a snob, so maybe her word shouldn’t have been the one solely trusted on the subject, but Lauren’s family sounded like the type of weird forest folk TLC would give a reality show to.
I followed Scott through the maze of tables in the dining room, alternately nodding to relatives and family friends I liked and pretending not to see those I did not like. Scott slapped guys on the back and thanked nearly every table for being there, something I knew he should do as the groom but also something that was making my hotel buffet eggs cold.
Even the swankiest resorts couldn’t make cold scrambled eggs appealing.
“There he is!” A woman called out from a nearby table, and Scott made a beeline in that direction. Every seat was already taken, thank god, so I wouldn’t have to sit with strangers.
Scott made his way over to the woman, who appeared to be in her sixties. She had a deep, leathery tan, long, hot-pink fake fingernails, and white-blonde hair in a short cut with a stacked back. She half-rose to hug Scott and kiss him on the cheek when he leaned down. “This is him. This is my new son.”