Gotta Have Fate (Winslow Brothers)

“Yes, please!” my aunt adds, giggling and clapping her hands in theatrical excitement. “I hope we get to do the lift, too! Surely the videographer can record it for us?”

My uncle cracks up at his wife’s words, but before I can offer a sarcastic retort, Charlotte squeezes my elbow to get my attention. Instantly, I tear my eyes away from the display of our typical family banter to face her.

She’s chewing her lip, and once again, I start to worry a little that something isn’t right.

“What’s going on, Char? You don’t seem like yourself.”

She shakes her head again, rubbing her hand up and down my arm a few times in comfort. “No, I’m okay, I swear. I just…need to talk to you about something after dinner.”

My eyebrows pull together at the seemingly ominous statement.

We need to talk are never good words in a relationship, let alone the night before the wedding.

“Need to talk? About what?” I find myself questioning a little harshly. It’s not my intent, but five stupid words play over and over again in my head uninvited.

You will experience great heartbreak.

You will experience great heartbreak.

You will experience great heartbreak.

That crazy fortune-teller’s bullshit prophecy burns inside my chest like reflux that won’t respond to an antacid.

I don’t want to care—I thought I had convinced myself not to care—but I can’t stop myself from staring deep into Char’s eyes and wondering if she could ever break my heart.

“Remy, it’s no big deal,” she assures. “I’m sorry I even brought it up. It’s…nothing. Good news, maybe. But we don’t need to worry about it right now.”

I laugh a little, its contents lacking in true humor. “Come on, baby. You know I’m not going to be able to let this go now…without knowing what it’s about?” I shake my head, reach down into her lap, and grab her hand. “No. Uh uh. We need to talk about whatever it is now.”

“Remy!” she whisper-yells through an incredulous laugh as I gently tug her out of her seat and lead her away from the table. “What are you doing? We can’t leave! This is our rehearsal dinner!”

“The dinner is pretty much over,” I answer as I pull her along behind me, her little legs moving quickly in her heels to keep up with my long ones. “Everyone is just bullshitting now.” There’s a small titter in the crowd, I can tell, but the Two Stooges confirm pretty quickly that what’s going on and what it looks like is going on are two very different things.

“Where ya going, Rem?” Ty booms through a laugh.

“Ay-ohhhh! Is there about to be a little prewedding hanky-panky?” Jude chimes in, a resolute smack I can only assume is Ty’s hand meeting his in a high five following right behind. “Love is certainly in the air tonight!”

Christ. Leave it to my baby brothers to try to make shit awkward for everyone but themselves.

I glance back to Charlotte to see her cheeks turning beet red, no doubt thinking about her parents, who are still sitting at the table and listening to Jude and Ty’s inappropriate jousting.

She’s a grown woman—I can attest to that—but I don’t think, at twenty-two years old, she’s fully acclimated to her parents hearing direct references to her sex life.

I, on the other hand, am related to Jude and Ty. Enough said.

I glance from my bride-to-be to Flynn as we’re exiting the room, and he gives me a nod of affirmation. He’ll take care of business for me—aka kick Jude’s and Ty’s asses. Which, honestly, could be metaphorical. Could be reality. It’s truly a toss-up.

Charlotte follows me through the door, just as Jude’s oof sounds resoundingly through the room and out into the hall where we are, and it’s funny enough to me that it almost pulls me out of my worried thoughts.

Apparently, that ass-kicking wasn’t a metaphor…

“Always, always, always the asshole.” I can hear Uncle Brad say, his voice trailing off the farther away we get. My mom’s laughter inevitably follows because even the woman who birthed him knows it’s true.

Still focused on having a moment alone with Charlotte, I lead us into a quiet, vacated side hallway of the large restaurant and turn around to face her head on.

She glances over her shoulder, her cute little white rehearsal dinner dress strap threatening to slide off her shoulder.

I right it back into place and then grab her by the tops of her arms and square her to face me, my expression softening the gentle manhandling with a smile.

“Okay, baby. Let’s have it. What do we need to talk about?”

She considers me closely for a minute and then finally takes a deep breath, determination making her eyes narrow slightly.

“Okay…well. I’m just going to say it.”

I nod. “Good idea.”

“I…well, you know I had that presentation with the California group on the night of your bachelor party?”