Jeremiah (Stud Ranch 5)

She looked up at me, her lovely features crumpled. “Promise?”

“Promise.”

We both laughed a little and then she said, “Jesus, look at us!” She reached in her purse and produced a compact and packet of tissues. “They’re about to cut the cake and we’ll look like goth chicks with these black tear tracks in the pictures if we don’t clean up!”

We hurriedly swiped at our eyes and then Olivia dabbed fresh concealer under her eyes and then offered it to me. We were nearly presentable if a little puffy eyed by the time we made our way back to the party group all gathered near the cake.

Charlie was glowing as she stood by Reece, who looked like he’d just won the lottery as he stared down at his bride. It hurt, seeing that face with that look of love on it. Not that Jeremiah would ever look that way at anybody. He’d never allow himself that kind of vulnerability. Everything in me wanted to look around and clock where the evil twin brother was, but no, I forced my eyes to stay on the happy couple.

Charlie glanced out at the crowd, briefly making eye contact with Olivia and me before grinning and spinning around so that her back was to us again.

She tossed the colorful bouquet backward over her head and, as if in slow motion, I could see it heading right toward me. It would have been easy to reach out and pluck it from the air. It would hit me straight in the center of the chest if I didn’t.

So I stepped backward several steps and Olivia had to dive sideways in a daring last-minute catch before the flowers hit the ground.

Around us, the crowd cheered her, but as Charlie turned around to look at us, I could see her eyes were quizzical when she saw how far away I was standing from where I’d previously been.

I just couldn’t, though, not even for my friend. Even such a silly tradition hurt too bad in light of Jeremiah’s retracted proposal.

“Now for the cutting of the cake!” I announced, forcing a wide, happy grin over my face as I beamed at the couple as if my heart wasn’t being forced through a shredder.

Reece took Charlie’s arm as he led her the few feet toward the huge, tiered wedding cake set up on a card table near the tent’s northernmost corner. The crowd followed, happy murmurs and the clink of glassware as champagne flutes as people drank deeply.

In fact, the day could not have turned out more perfect. For once, the day was cooler than usual. It was only in the mid-nineties instead of sweltering over the hundred-degree mark. Under the tent it was positively cozy, especially with the mid-afternoon breeze.

Yes, everyone was using the printed wedding bulletins as makeshift fans, but that was just a habit from church.

The caterer had already cut two perfect pieces of cake for Reece and Charlie, so they only had to pick up their individual plates. Reece forked a delicate bite and slid it into Charlie’s mouth. She swallowed it quickly, then reached out with her hand to grab Reece’s piece, snatched half of it up, and shoved it in his face.

Before she could stop him, he snatched her up and kissed her, smashing the already smushed cake between them.

It would have been a sweet, funny moment.

It really would have.

If only the bride hadn’t pulled away in alarm seconds later with a warning hand up and a slightly green looking face. Then she slapped a hand over her mouth, turned, and fled for the edge of the tent. Lucky for her, it wasn’t far.

And then everyone who was gathered so closely around had the undue pleasure of hearing Charlie throw up all that she’d managed to get down this morning and afternoon.

Reece immediately rushed to her side, rubbing her back, and handing her a napkin. But overall, he didn’t look too surprised or worried. Something I apparently wasn’t the only one to notice.

“Charlotte?” a voice rang out. And then suddenly Charlie’s mom was pushing through the crowd. “Honey what’s— Did you have something bad? Did you eat the beef or the chicken, because I had the chicken and I can’t afford—” And then her mother stopped, gasping. “Oh my God, are you pregnant?”

And the anvil dropped.

Charlie could have lied. It would have been easy to shake her head and save her dignity in the moment, in front of the whole town no less.

God, I could have killed Mrs. Winston in that moment. Why did she have to air family laundry in front of this group of relative strangers? She didn’t know these people from Adam, but Charlie and Reece lived here. And gossip like this traveled faster than a tick on a spooked deer. Everyone would know by sundown.