Max
Dancing at Dark
"How many pictures do we have to take?" I grumble to Howie.
"We need the groomsmen. Line up over here, please, and smile. We’re almost done." Olive’s mother commands us, snapping her fingers toward the group.
The photographer, a fierce-looking woman dressed in all black, smiles at our group half-heartedly as we make our way toward the water—if I had to guess, she’s as annoyed at Anne Bowman as the rest of us. She snaps a few pictures, directing us to make a funny face before the last one.
We’ve been at this for a solid forty-five minutes, and my palms are itching to get to Sadie. She looked out of this world when I saw her, the green dress accentuating the golden flecks in her eyes. They were narrowed at me for most of the ceremony—my surprise apparently didn’t have the desired effect.
"You’re free to go. Sam and I will take a few more before we come to eat dinner," Olive coos, grabbing my brother’s hand and dragging him toward the wedding arch while her mom looks on with something similar to icy approval.
The staff has cleared most of the seating, leaving the lawn clear for the dance floor to be set up. But I’m not sticking around to watch. Howie and Ari lead the way, marching across the grass toward a large white tent with tables underneath it. The walls have been rolled down, probably so the guests didn’t have to watch the production that was us taking a million and one photos.
Stepping inside, music rolls through the space, something classical—maybe Beethoven. I’m sure Olive’s mom picked it since the vibe screams trust fund.
"We’re over here," Ari says, pulling Howie’s hand toward a table near the front.
Approaching, only a few of the seats are occupied, and Sadie’s isn’t one of them. Glancing around, I search the tables for a green dress. Only stopping when my eyes snag on the bright emerald near the bar. Swerving right, I slow my pace when her melodic laugh reaches me across the makeshift room.
It’s soothing, like a warm hug—one I’ve been longing for all day.
"Put her drink on my tab, Walter," I say, slinking up beside her.
The bartender is a family friend who’s been working weddings for at least thirty years that I know of. Always flirting his way into his next fling, like an older George Clooney slinging drinks.
"Max… I’m pretty sure it’s free." Sadie turns her body toward mine, rolling her eyes.
"Nah, Walter’s just been giving you freebies in an attempt to steal my date." I wink at the man in question.
"Wait, really?" Sadie reaches into her purse, pulling out a couple of bills. "I’ve been up here twice, let me—"
A chuckle roars from my chest, and Walter follows suit.
"I’m kidding. Does this look like the type of wedding that has a cash bar?"
Sadie smacks my chest.
"No." She shoves the money into Walter’s tip jar. "But… to be fair, I didn’t even know I was coming to a wedding, so anything’s possible, right?"
Grinning, I wrap my fingers around her arm gently and pull her toward me. "Fair. Your expression was so worth it, though."
Sadie scoffs before grabbing her glass of wine and my lager from the wooden bar. She steps toward our table, taking her seat just as our meals are set down—steak for me, salmon for her.
"You should’ve told me." She grabs her napkin and drapes it across her lap. "I look like I’m going to a backyard barbecue, notthiswedding." Her eyes widen as she scans the reception.
Taking a sip of my beer, I reach below the table, grab the leg of her chair, and pull it closer to mine before settling my hand on her upper thigh.
"You look amazing. So good it took my breath away when I saw you seated in the front row." Leaning in, I press a kiss to her cheek. "Could’ve passed out and dropped the rings if I hadn’t looked away."
"Max…"
"Don’t Max me. I’m serious, even wearing a paper sack, you’d still be the only woman in this room that I see. The only woman in any room, actually."
Sadie turns to me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips. "Okay, Casanova. You win."
She stabs a fingerling potato with her fork, but pauses halfway to her mouth. "How did you know to order me fish?"