The Problem with Emerson

07 | The Problem with Weddings

THE PROBLEM WITH WEDDINGS was that, for someone who had been to an abundance of her mother's friends' ceremonies, they were painfully predictable.

"How much do you want to bet that the maid of honour and the best man are going to hook up after the reception?"

The best man was a guy named Daniel that the groom had known since public school, and the maid of honour was a chick named Clare that the bride met in university.  And Brie couldn't help but notice that they hadn't been able to keep their eyes off of one another.

"Brie!" Emerson hissed as the buffet line moved forward.  "You don't have to make everything about that."

"What?" Brie defended as she picked up a plate.  "It's only natural.  Besides, they've been making eyes at each other all night long.  It's only a matter of time before they end up in a broom closet."

The guy directly in front of Emerson turned around, and Brie thought that she recognized him, but she wasn't sure.  He was about thirty, and he had messy blonde hair.  And he was grinning at her mischievously.  "Are you still taking bets?  'Cause I say twenty bucks, they won't last until speeches."

Brie turned to Emerson.  "See?  I'm not the only one that's noticed."  Then she returned her attention to the man.  "You're on, but I think you give them too much credit.  I say they won't make it through dinner."

They laughed, and then the man returned to gathering his food.  Brie pretended that she didn't feel Emerson's eyes on her.

"You're something else, Brianna," he mused as he dumped salad onto his plate.

Brie grinned. "You know I try to be, Em."

The pair finished making up theirs plates, and then they returned to their assigned seats.

The venue wasn't huge, but it was big enough to host a hundred people comfortably. Brie surveyed the room as she began to eat her meal.

She noticed Zara and Indie across the room at their table, Emerson's sister Sage beside Indie. Zara was talking animatedly to the bride's father, and Indie was helping Sage cut into something on her plate. The whole time, Zara kept her hand on Indie's knee.

The sight of their affection made her feel something she couldn't describe. Whatever it was, it was distracting. When Emerson's knee nudged hers beneath the table, she jumped.

"You zoned out," he explained.

She shook her head. "Sorry, I'm back."

But her brain still felt foggy. What the hell was going on with her?

...

For Brie, another problem with weddings was that they made her cry every damn time.  Even when she was a kid, nuptials always made her feel emotional.

During the ceremony, she had cried when Sage led a sleepy flower girl down the aisle, a basket of flower petals in tow.  She had cried when Emerson carried the other twin to the altar to deposit the rings (though she wouldn't deny how good his ass looked in that tux).  And she was crying now as the newlyweds' friends and family said their liquor-slurred speeches, wishing the couple well.

Emerson shifted beside her.  He leant in until he was a hairsbreadth from her ear, and then he asked, "Are you okay, Brie?"

She hastily wiped at her cheeks, knowing beyond a doubt that her makeup was fucked.  "Shut up.  I'm fine."

His quiet laugh sent a chill down her spine, but in the best way possible.  "I didn't know you were such a sappy romantic," he teased.

"Shut the fudge up."