My cheeks heat, and I’m about to apologize when Josie slams into my side.
“I’m so glad you came,” she squeals in my ear. Clearly, she’s a few drinks in, but it’s nice to knowsomeoneis happy to see me.
“Even though I interrupted your vows?”
She pulls away. “No, that was perfect timing. Gotta keep Sheppy on his toes somehow, huh?” Her blue eyes slide to Émile. “You must be Christian’s date?”
He stands smoothly, in a kinda elegant way I’d never be able to pull off. “Émile Cromwell.”
Oh, fuck.
In all my word vomit, I forgot to tell him not to give his last name. I can guarantee anyone within earshot will be looking him up, and yeah, business management is an awesome job, but it’s not the kind of awesome that’s going to impress anyone here.
Ah, well. Beggars can’t be choosers, and maybe Jordan would have been the better option on paper, but I can’t imagine Jordan having my back as wholly as Émile has.
“Nice to meet you,” Josie says, shaking his hand. “I’m glad my cousin’s had someone to look out for him.”
“You mean besides the five other people he houses?”
“He what?”
“Oh, I guess you wouldn’t know about his philanthropic endeavors, what with the entire family turning their backs on him.”
My eyes shoot wide. Sure, we’re all thinking that, but like hell would anyone say it out loud. Those are the types of conversations you’re supposed to skirt around and pretend don’t exist for the sake of keeping the peace. I’m stuck on what the hell to say now, but Émile tucks his hands casually into his pockets and offers Josie a polite smile. Like he didn’t just call everyone here an asshole.
I almost want to laugh, but the lack of oxygen in my lungs is making it impossible.
“I wasn’t even fourteen when Christian was kicked out, and before we ran into each other, I’d been trying to get into contact with him,” Josie says.
“Youwere?” I ask.
She shrugs. “I told you how fucked-up I thought the whole thing was. But you don’t have social media, so …”
“It’s under my stage name,” I explain. Keeping everything asChris Patrickis easier. Plus, it’s helped me get some distance between who I am as a dumpster fire of a human, and who I am when I walk on stage.
“My mistake.” Émile’s polite smile turns warm. “Apparently not everyone in the room is a homophobic dickwad.”
Josie snorts. “No, we’re not.” Then she pointedly looks at my parents who hurry to act like they weren’t watching us. “Butsomepeople have zero critical thinking skills and believe everything the media force-feeds them.”
“True.”
Aunt Barbara approaches to whisper something to Josie, then leans over and squeezes my forearm. “Lovely to see you, dear.”
“Ah, thanks …”
“Gotta go,” Josie says. “Bride stuff.”
She walks away, and I’m expecting to go back to being ignored again, when a group of second cousins approach. Then my uncle. Then the groom’s parents. They’re all … unexpectedly warm.
“Émile Cromwell,” Sheppy’s mother says. “So lovely for you both to come. How did you meet?”
I jump as Émile’s warm arm wraps around my waist. “It’s a funny story, but we don’t have all night. Let’s just say one four letter word started this whirlwind romance, and I haven’t looked back once.” He turns to me and the look in his eyes makes my gut flip. “I’ve never met someone so incredibly self-deprecating and kindhearted.”
“Aww, that’s lovely.” She rests a hand on her chest. “And has, uh …Christianmet your family?”
“Of course. They adore him as much as I do.”
She starts fluttering about something as more people crowd around us, and a prickle ofwrongnesscreeps over me. Are people seriously this interested in me all because Josie came over to say hello? Are they forgetting the last ten years of cutting me out? Suddenly interested in and supportive of my relationship with a man? What the hell is happening here?