“I love her so much,” Mercer said again.
Razor put his hand on his shoulder. “Hey, buddy, time to come out of the prenuptial trance. You’re actually gonna have to say something other than that soon.”
Gunner made sure everyone exited the cottage in the right order. Razor didn’t really understand all this wedding shit, but evidently, other than the best man, the bride determined the order of the groomsmen. Didn’t seem like a big deal to him until she’d called him aside a couple of days ago.
“I’ve put you with Ava,” she’d whispered. “You know, in the wedding.”
“Uh…okay,” he’d answered.
“Aine is my maid of honor, so I wanted Ava to be next to her, since they’re twins.”
Razor had nodded, still not quite understanding what she meant. He’d been to weddings, but never realized the order people walked in was planned.
“Does that mean I get to dance with her?”
She’d laughed like she thought he was kidding, but he hadn’t been. She had no idea how much he lusted after Avarie McNamara.
—:—
Aine was fussing with the bride’s veil while one of the other bridesmaids was handling the sapphire blue earrings Quinn’s father had given to her last night.
“These are both old and blue,” Quinn said he’d told her. “They belonged to his grandmother. Her name was Analise, which is my middle name,” she added with tears in her eyes.
The five of them—her, Aine, Tara, Penelope, and Quinn—had been best friends, calling themselves the “tribe of five,” since they met at boarding school when they were seven years old.
None of them came from ideal families, but Quinn had always had it harder than the rest of them. Until recently, her father hadn’t been a part of her life. In fact, she didn’t even know him, although now that they were back in contact, she’d said she remembered him from her early childhood.
Quinn’s mother hadn’t really been a part of her life either, although more than her dad had been. She’d recently passed away under circumstances Quinn wasn’t able to talk about.
“Who chose these dresses?” Ava asked, trying to position the second set of nipple covers.
Aine motioned over at Tara, who looked fabulous in the sage-green halter dress that was cut in such a way that only a backless, strapless, stick-on bra could be worn with it. As well-endowed as Ava and Aine were, they might as well have gone without.
“You’re the maid of honor, shouldn’t you have had a say?”
Aine ignored her like she usually did when Ava was spouting off about something they couldn’t change.
“Do you see where Mom and Dad are sitting?” Ava asked when they were outside, waiting for the processional music to begin.
“Dad is in the second row from the back, with Kelly, and Mom is…um…oh, Lord…in the second row from the front.”
Ava didn’t want to ask what her mom was wearing. Whatever it was would be outlandish.
“She’s got the spaceship hat plastered to the side of her head.”
Ava gasped. “The bright purple one?”
Aine shook her head. “This one is pink.”
Both she and her sister had inherited their bigger-than-average bosoms from their mother, and while neither twin tried to hide them, they certainly didn’t flaunt them the way the woman who insisted her daughters call her “Peggy” did.
What had Quinn been thinking when she invited their parents? And why couldn’t they have simply sent a gift like Tara’s and Pen’s parents did, instead of both actually showing up with their spouses?
Peggy would probably have too much to drink at the reception and suggest she and their dad let “bygones be bygones” and have a dance, to which their father would adamantly refuse while his third—or was this his fourth—wife crossed her arms and pouted.
“Again, you’re the maid of honor. You couldn’t have talked Quinn out of inviting them?”
Penelope glared at them. “Shush.”