The Worst Wedding Date
: Chapter 35

She’s doing it.

She’s fucking doing it.

Emma’s getting married.

My suit’s too tight. And damn this tie. I hate ties. They choke me.

And it’s hot.

Why are we in formal wear for a wedding at the beach?

Why did I go out of my way to make this happen for her?

Quit being a selfish ass, Theo. This is what she wants.

Not what I want though.

What I want is for Laney to be holding my hand and assuring me all is fine. Instead, I can’t even tell if she’s read my messages because we’re on different kinds of phones and hers doesn’t send me read receipts.

The ocean’s right there. Right there. I could walk out from behind this row of chairs on the beach, head straight to the water, and not stop walking until I’m swimming, and not come back to shore until it’s done.

But I’m here because Laney’s walking down the aisle in a fucking gorgeous pink-purple gown with her hair up fancy and her makeup all done, and I can’t take my eyes off of her.

She slides me a half-hearted smile as she glances down my row when she passes, and yep.

I would sit in Hell itself watching and waiting for just a glimpse of that smile that’s just for me.

Even the half-hearted kind.

Does that mean she read my messages?

Does it mean something happened today?

Does it mean she’s just sending me a subliminal I know this is hard, and I wish I could make it easier for you like everything’s the same as it was after breakfast?

Like no one told her my secret today and I can talk to her as soon as Emma leaves the reception and come clean and hope she takes it better than the Laney of a week ago would’ve?

Her mother makes a noise behind me.

I ignore it and focus on the fact that my front-row family-of-the-bride seat means that Laney’s mere feet from me when she takes her spot to wait for Sabrina to come down the aisle as Emma’s maid of honor.

She mouths something to me.

Looks like I’m horny.

But that can’t be it.

Claire’s already standing next to her, totally blank-faced.

I’m actively ignoring Chandler and his three groomsmen, who are standing on the other side of the arched trellis hung with tropical flowers that Dad and Uncle Owen finished after I left to get the cake.

Sabrina’s next down the aisle.

I should look at her, but I can’t stop looking at Laney, who’s watching Sabrina and stifling a wince.

Why’s she stifling a wince?

Why is Laney stifling a wince?

“I told her all bridesmaids should take a gas suppressant before the wedding,” Gail says behind me. “Do you think she forgot?”

Charles grunts an answer.

Sabrina reaches the front and stops next to Laney.

The music changes, and then Emma’s walking herself down the aisle in a fitted satin-and-lace number with a long train that’ll have sand in it for the rest of its natural life, but it’s what Emma wanted.

It makes her happy.

So that’s what she got.

My dad sniffs with pride next to me.

The crying kind of sniffing with pride.

None of this Oh, I’m so fancy that I sniff my approval stuff. Not for my pops.

“She’s such a lovely bride,” Gail murmurs behind me. “She deserves every happiness.”

On that, we agree.

All three of the Sullivan triplets keep looking behind me, to where Charles is sitting as well.

Uncle Owen twists like he wants to look behind us and see if Charles and the triplets have the same nose too.

This was supposed to be Emma’s fantasy come to life, and instead it’s a small-town shit show of secrets.

I train my eyes on Laney.

I want to have her over to my place at home. I want her to play with the kittens. Watch them grow into cats. Have snowball fights with her in the yard. Set a fire to warm her up.

Take her to bed and warm her up even more.

Taste the pancakes she teased me about over breakfast again today.

And I don’t want to tell her what I need to tell her.

I don’t want to know if she’ll judge me.

If it’ll change how she feels about me.

I can’t just quit and sweep it under the rug like it never happened. She’ll hear eventually.

She’s not looking at me any differently right now, which I’m assuming means she hasn’t heard.

Emma reaches us in the front row, which I only realize because Dad moves next to me. I tear my eyes away from Laney to watch my sister pause at the end of our row.

She pulls my dad into a hug, and as she does, she looks over his shoulder at me.

Fuuuuuck.

I know that look.

She’s stressed.

She’s stressed, and she wants me to crack a joke to relieve all of her tension and fix it.

“Love you, Daddy,” she whispers to our old man, and then she steps up in front of the minister under the trellis, where Chandler’s beaming at her and wiping his eyes.

Fucker hasn’t bolted.

Is that a good sign?

I don’t know.

“Holy shit, you’re hot,” he says to my sister while he looks her up and down. Not loudly. Just loudly enough for the front row to hear it.

His parents chuckle like they’re so proud to have a son who recognizes he has a good thing.

We all sit.

All of us.

Me too, even though I’d rather go punch the guy who just told his bride she looks hot.

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…” the minister starts.

The minister that I fucking found.

I did this.

This, too, is my fault.

Laney slides a glance at me, and I realize my knee’s bouncing.

I stop it.

Her lips wobble like she’s trying to send me a good boy, but she’s sad.

Dammit.

She’s sad because I told her I don’t want Emma to marry a fuckaroni and cheese. Shouldn’t have told her.

Shouldn’t have made her deal with carrying that.

“Such a beautiful day to join two souls who have been in love since their youth, who have overcome trials and challenges and hardships to reach this day, today, when they proclaim their love before you, their closest family and friends…” the minister drones.

I got a talker.

Of course I did.

Couldn’t have gotten a minister who’d just rip off the bandage and get it over with fast.

Had to pick the talker. One who doesn’t even know them, but who’s droning like he does.

Laney shifts another look at me.

I make my leg stop bouncing again.

But that’s when it happens.

I feel the tickle.

Not the tickle of my hand waking up.

The tickle of I need to sneeze.

Nope. Nope nope nope. Not sneezing. Not doing it.

Emma hates it when I sneeze.

I sneeze loud.

Can’t help it. I’ve tried. Even went to see a doctor about it once.

Breathe, dumbass. Just breathe.

“Before we proceed, is there anyone who knows of any reason why this man and this woman should not be wed?”

I twist my nose this way and that to try to stop the tickle. Also sit on my fucking hands.

The minister peers at me.

Laney looks at me too.

I duck my head and keep twitching my nose.

Will not sneeze. Will not sneeze. Will not sneeze.

The minister starts talking again.

It’s getting stronger.

The tickle’s getting stronger.

I don’t sneeze a lot. But when I do, I fucking sneeze the shit out of sneezing. And this is not the time or the place to sneeze.

Why the fuck did I get a talker for a minister?

Shit.

Shit.

Gonna sneeze. Can’t hold it back. I’m trying. I’m trying.

Need to stifle it.

Need to—

“AAAAAAHHHHHH-CHHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

—sneeze.

Uncle Owen startles so hard his chair wobbles and he almost goes down.

Someone behind me shrieks.

“Right now, son?” my dad whispers.

“Sick,” one of the triplets says. The admiration kind of sick.

I look up.

The minister’s watching me again. Chandler’s staring at me with you’re such a dumbass radiating out of him.

Really hope Emma lets me punch him one day.

My sister turns and looks at me, her face a conflicted mess of emotions.

Laney’s eyes are bugging out of her head.

But more—her lips are wobbling.

“Allergies,” I force out. I make a go on gesture.

Emma keeps staring at me.

Laney’s pinching her lips together now, her eyes dancing. Not just with amusement, but with kindness. Only you, Theo. Way to break the tension.

The minister sucks in a deep breath. “Continuing on then. Emma. Chandler. In front of your family and friends and the beauty of this majestic world, I invite you to exchange your vows.”

“Wait,” Emma says.

I suck in a breath and almost levitate out of my chair.

Dad puts a hand on my shoulder and shoves me back down. This one comes with a frown bigger than the really, son? sneeze-frown.

Uncle Owen snickers. “Oooh, this is gonna get good,” he whispers to me.

“Babe, he’s fine,” Chandler says. “Let’s do this.”

She looks over her shoulder at me one more time, and my heart sinks.

It sinks to the floor and keeps going through the sand underneath while she turns back to Chandler.

“This isn’t about Theo sneezing, Chandler,” she says. “It’s about you letting my brother go to jail for you.”

Every cell in my body freezes.

I freeze so hard that I’m actually cold, and I don’t get cold. I can feel my blood leaving my body.

Laney makes a choked noise.

I would, but I can’t move.

This is bad. This is bad.

“Babe, what?” Chandler says. “That’s bullshit. Who told you that?”

“Did you?” my sister repeats.

No.

No.

This isn’t happening. If she doesn’t want to marry him, fantastic.

But don’t let it be because of me.

“What did she say?” Charles murmurs behind me.

“Em, I love you, and I’ve tried really hard not to let that fuckup ruin things for us—” Chandler starts, only to be cut off.

Not by Emma, but by Laney clearing her throat.

Loudly.

“Who you callin’ a fuckup, boy?” Uncle Owen says right on the heels of Laney’s interruption.

I manage to make myself move to shove him back into his seat.

“Did. You. Let. My. Brother. Go. To. Jail. For. You?” Emma repeats.

This time, there’s not a single person in the crowd who didn’t hear her.

Probably not a single person in the crowd whose nuts aren’t shriveling at the you are in so much fucking trouble you will never climb back out of the pit of trouble in your entire life tone that Emma uses about a fraction as often as I sneeze.

Which isn’t often.

Chandler looks past her.

Straight at me.

If looks could incinerate a man on the spot, I’d be Ghost Theo hovering over this lanai for a brief minute before peace-ing out to see if souls can fly.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing, telling my bride shit about—”

“I told her,” Laney interrupts.

Gail gasps.

I choke on my own tongue. Why the fuck?

“What did she say?” Charles says. “What did she say?”

Chandler gapes at Laney for a split second before a scowl takes over. “A guy gives you a good time for the first time in your life, and you believe any bullshit he spews?”

Uncle Owen and my dad both grab one of my arms and yank me back into my seat.

Those fuckers are strong for old guys.

“You never told her,” Sabrina says to Chandler. “You never told her?”

“You knew?” Emma whispers. She looks back at Chandler. “What else? What else haven’t you told me?”

“Nothing,” Chandler says. “They’re making shit up to wreck our day.”

“Dude,” Jack says quietly.

“What. Else?” Emma says. For the first time, her voice wobbles.

And it makes me want to leap out of my chair, toss her over my shoulder, and take her somewhere safe.

Decker coughs over something that sounds like who paid for the wedding.

I freeze again.

Chandler looks over his shoulder at his groomsmen. “So that’s where we’re going? You’re going to take sides with a fucking porn star over your own cousin?”

He looks back at Emma, and the noise registers before my brain comprehends what I’m seeing.

My sister, the world’s happiest person and largest pacifist, voted least likely to ever take part in a fight in high school and most likely to peacefully talk her way out of a hostage situation, just slapped her fiancé.

That’s not a collective gasp of horror from the crowd.

It’s more.

Bigger.

I finally succeed in jumping to my feet, my father and my uncle right beside me, ready to do what we need to do if he lifts so much as a fingernail in her direction, but the minister scrambles between us while the bridesmaids hover closer to Emma and the triplets angle closer to Chandler.

“Do. Not. Mock. My. Brother,” Emma growls while Chandler rubs his jaw and gapes at her.

“Especially when he’s paying for your fucking wedding,” Sabrina adds.

Laney looks at me.

Back at Emma, who’s now also gaping at me. Then at Sabrina, then back to me.

I squirm.

The minister pushes me back a half step.

“Who’s a porn star?” Charles says behind me. And he’s not the only one. I can hear Addison giggling somewhere behind me.

Fucking gossip.

Shit.

How many people are recording this?

Laney’s not the only one looking at me.

Everyone is.

Everyone.

I can’t look at Laney. I don’t want to watch her realize she’s been fucking around with a guy who lets his junk hang out for the whole world to see.

I don’t want to see the horror. The embarrassment.

This isn’t how I was supposed to tell her.

“Theo,” Emma says. “You’re paying for my wedding?”

I clear my throat and look down.

“Theo.”

“Theo?” Dad says. “You should’ve told me. I had money saved for this.”

“I got it, Dad,” I force out.

“How are you paying for this wedding?” Laney whispers.

“Oh my god, the press,” Gail says behind me. “They’ll eat her alive.”

Heat flashes over the cold numbing my body.

She’s not wrong.

Future CEO dating a porn star is a fucking awful headline.

Laney loves her job. She was born for this. It’s her heritage, and she wears it well.

“You paid for my wedding,” Emma repeats.

I finally replace my voice along with my nuts, and I look up, aware that my face is flaming.

“He’s not—” Chandler starts.

I cut him off. “I’m paying for your wedding, because I love you, and I want you to have your dreams.”

Emma’s breath is coming quick and fast as she turns on Chandler again. “Why is my brother paying for the wedding that you insisted you could afford?”

“Because Bean & Nugget is behind on taxes and he has no money,” Sabrina answers for him.

Emma gasps. “Is that why you wouldn’t let me do Bean & Nugget’s returns? So I wouldn’t know you weren’t paying taxes?”

“They’re not behind anymore,” Addison says from the crowd while Chandler stutters that Sabrina’s making stuff up. “He sold it to cover the debt and there’s nothing left. My company handled the closing in Denver this morning.”

Chandler goes ghost white.

The caught kind of ghost white.

I choke.

Several gasps go up in the crowd.

And Sabrina—oh, fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Sabrina looks like she’s been slapped. “No,” she wrenches out on a sob.

“What the fuck?” Jack snarls.

“What the fuck?” Lucky echoes.

“You can’t sell Bean & Nugget,” Decker says. “What if my kids wanted to work there someday?”

“You did not,” someone on his side of the crowd says. “Chandler. Explain this.”

Aunt Brenda’s voice rises above all the others. “That better not be true, you little asswipe.”

“You sold it?” Sabrina whispers. Laney grabs her elbow when she teeters on her heels. “I had a solution. I had a solution.”

“I’m not taking more porn star money from that dick,” Chandler snaps.

“Stop it,” Emma cries.

“You sold it?” Sabrina repeats once more. “That’s my life. I should’ve had a chance to buy it. How—no.”

We were supposed to have two months.

I told her no.

I could’ve fixed this.

And I didn’t.

Chandler reaches for Emma. “Babe. Babe. You know we’ll work this out. Let’s just get married—”

“Seven years,” Emma shrieks. “Seven years, you didn’t want to get married, and now, when you’ve lied, cheated, and probably stolen from everyone here, pretending everything’s fine, when you let my brother go to jail for you and never thought to tell me, when you lied to me about what was wrong at work, now that you’ve gotten caught, now that you’re hoping Theo will support us, now you want to get married?”

“Think of our babies,” he says.

She gasps.

Audibly, painfully gasps.

I’m clenching my fists and bouncing on the balls of my feet.

That’s all she’s ever wanted.

To get married, have babies, have a family. A normal family with a mom and a dad and a distinct lack of taxidermy animals lurking in every corner of her house.

“How. Dare. You?” Emma says.

“Babe. Babe. You know I don’t want his money.”

“I’ve known you for fifteen fucking years, Chandler,” Emma shrieks. “You can’t stand it that Theo’s making money—”

“With his penis,” Chandler says.

He angles back while Emma advances on him. “—and you’re not,” she finishes.

“Why are they calling you a porn star?” Laney asks me.

One more person I’ve let down today.

Emma’s wedding is ruined. Sabrina’s café is gone.

And Laney.

Laney’s replaceing out in the worst possible way that I have a side hustle that’s not the least bit respectable.

I square my shoulders and look her straight in the eye. “Because I am.”

“Oh my god in heaven,” Gail says.

“Shut up, Mom,” Laney snaps.

“And I’m fucking good at it,” I add.

“Theo, stop,” Emma says.

I don’t look at her. Instead, I stare straight at Laney. I want to see it.

I need to see it.

I need to see if she can live with me, all of me, even if this isn’t how I wanted to tell her, or if she’s one more person that I’ve let down today.

“I strip,” I say. “I bare the goods. All of them. I put them on the internet. And I get paid a fuck ton of money. That’s the kind of modeling I do.”

Laney gasps so hard it’s like she’s in physical pain.

And I want to hug her.

I want to hug her and tell her I’ll never do it again if she’ll just give me a chance. A real chance. A chance at home, where everything’s normal.

But I’m not giving up a good thing—a good thing where I make a fucking difference—to fit someone else’s mold of normal.

That’s not who I am.

“That’s not what you do,” Sabrina says.

“Isn’t it?”

“Theo—”

“My penis pays my bills.”

Laney’s gaping.

She’s gaping like I just broke her world, looking between me and her parents behind her.

And Emma—Emma makes a noise that’s even worse.

“You done here?” I ask my sister gently. Have to be gentle.

It’s Em.

Her dreams are falling apart right now. I don’t matter.

She matters.

Her eyes fill with tears.

My heart takes a punch to the nads.

“When you say porn star—” Laney starts.

“He’s the top fucking dog on GrippaPeen.com, and that’s not enough for him, the asshole,” Chandler says. “Should’ve known I couldn’t even ask him for a favor for his sister. He has to ruin everyone else’s—hey. Hey. Let me go, you dickwad.”

“Only doing this so Emma doesn’t hit you again and get arrested,” Lucky says as he hauls Chandler back from the trellis. “And the only reason I’m not hitting you for selling the fucking shop is because then I’d have to patch you up and that would piss me off.”

The minister’s standing there as a wall between the rest of the wedding party and Dad, Uncle Owen, and me, watching all of us like we’re the best reality TV show he’s ever seen.

Addison is cackling behind me, the fucking gossip.

I slowly become aware of the fact that there are phones pointed at me from all directions. Wedding guests. Family. Onlookers from the beach who stopped to see a wedding and got so much more.

And that’s it.

Game over.

My face will be on the news within the next hour. If it’s not Addison, it’ll be someone else.

You don’t get to be the highest-paid faceless artist on a site like GrippaPeen without the world wanting to know who you really are.

And they’re all about to replace out.

“You told me you were a model,” Laney whispers. “I didn’t think you meant—that’s a lot different from—oh my god.”

It’s not just my shame I’m feeling.

It’s hers. Hers by association.

Date the bad boy in town? The fun guy who has his act together after struggles in school? Sure.

Date a porn star, even if he’s a solo act?

There are some things Kingstons don’t do.

And the absolute wrecked horror on her face while Sabrina stands next to her, tears streaming down her face over her own ruined dreams, is too much.

So I say the only thing I can think of. “Once a disappointment, always a disappointment. Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Oh my god, you dick,” Sabrina says.

This time to me.

Probably well-deserved.

“Oh, god,” Emma says, and then something even worse than tears in her eyes happens.

Emma, the sunshiniest sunshine in all of Snaggletooth Creek, starts sobbing.

Sabrina lunges for her.

Laney too.

Claire follows, almost plowing over Dad, who’s also rushing to get to Emma.

And I don’t.

I don’t know how to fix this for her, and I can’t stand the fact that she’s losing her dreams because she stuck up for me.

I love my sister.

She’s one of my favorite people in the world.

But I let her down.

She needs space.

I’ll check on her soon. After everyone else smothers her. When she’s alone.

“How dare you not tell our daughter—”

I spin and look Gail Kingston straight in the eye. “She’s a grown-ass woman who’s smart, kind, generous, and gorgeous, and she deserves way better than all of us.”

The Kingstons gape at me.

“And don’t fucking throw stones when you live in a goddamn glass house,” I growl directly at Charles.

Both of the Kingstons go pale.

Uncle Owen claps.

Takes me a half-second to realize Aunt Brenda’s clapping too.

Doesn’t matter though.

When I look back at Emma, she’s gone.

So are her bridesmaids.

So is Dad.

“This is all your fault, you fucking—”

Chandler doesn’t finish yelling at me either.

Don’t know if one of his disappointed family members got to him, or if I finally managed to train myself to not hear his voice.

All I know is that I’m done here.

Done.

It’s time to pack up my cats and go home.