Chapter 1
Blame the Tequila
Ari
Awful dress that made me look like an overripened eggplant—check!
Shoes that made my feet want to mutiny—check!
The overwhelming feeling that I was going to puke at any moment—check!
Shaking knees—check!
Sweating palms and pits—check!
Standing in front of my entire family, all of my sister’s friends, and way too many people I didn’t know, I locked eyes with my little sister where she sat at a lavish sweetheart table with her new hubby. She was glowing in her sparkly, blush pink Disney princess-style wedding gown. The twinkle in her eye as she gazed at her better half melted my heart.
With a deep breath and a tap on the mic, I dove head first into my maid of honor speech. “Good evening everyone. For those of you who don’t know who I am, I’m Ari, Josie’s older sister. When Josie asked me to be her maid of honor, I knew it was completely out of obligation since I am her only sister.”
As I took another deep breath, people laughed at my half-assed attempt at being funny. Thank goodness it was working.
“Three years ago when she called me in the middle of the night, I thought she was calling to tell me there was some kind of catastrophe I was going to have to help her with. Actually, it was to inform me that she had drunkenly kissed a football player at a bar and wasn’t sure if he was attractive or not. Thankfully, I can say we were pleasantly surprised when he texted her a few hours later with a decent selfie of a shirtless guy with a scruffy beard and a crooked smile. Good job on shaving for the big day, by the way.”
I pointed to my new brother-in-law as he turned a few shades of red and raised his champagne flute, which was dwarfed in his gigantic hand.
“I was going to tell a few embarrassing stories about the baby of the family, but Josie has way more dirt on me than I do on her, and we just don’t have enough time to get through that minefield tonight, trust me. With us having three older brothers and a father who have an affinity for firearms and hunting, Roger absolutely had his work cut out for him, to say the least, but he won all of us over in no time. To be fair, I think it was harder for that big brute to convince my mother that a ripped football star would treat her little princess the way we all know she deserves to be treated, and I do have to say, Roger, well done on not only sending flowers to Josie on Valentine’s Day year after year, but to Mom and me, too. That has definitely earned you more brownie points than either of us care to admit.”
I got a few more chuckles and smiled at the crowd before continuing.
“If you devote half the amount of time to Josie that you do to dropping passes on the field, I think my sister will be one hell of a lucky woman. Thank you for teaching me by example what a fumble is on countless Sundays and for reaffirming my disdain for a sport I will never completely understand. But, seriously, seeing the way Roger looks at Josie and how happy they have made each other, I think I can speak for everyone here when I say, thank God for Alabama Slammers and drunken make-out sessions. Everyone, please join me in congratulating the new Mr. and Mrs. Wilson, and if anyone needs me, I will be shamelessly quarantined over at the singles table as the last Owens standing.”
Fuck yes, so glad that’s over.
Throwing back the shot I had grasped in my hand, I quickly winked at Josie before handing the mic back over to the DJ. My sister jumped up, rushing over to me in the middle of the dance floor.
“Thank you, Ari.” Her arms flew around my neck. “That was perfect.”
“Anything for you,” I retorted in her ear as the DJ called for everyone to start dancing off the four-course meal we had just devoured.
Within minutes, we were surrounded by gyrating guests as Roger grabbed his wife’s hand to make the rounds and visit guests they hadn’t had a chance to greet yet.
Retreating to the bar, I was cornered by my oldest brother, Jayden.
“Last Owens standing, huh?” His receding hairline and speckles of gray didn’t do him any favors as he riled me up for the hundredth time.
“Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it?” I took my glass of champagne from the bartender, turning back to my brother.
“If you don’t put in effort, that title is going to be etched on your tombstone.” The laugh that followed his retort made me want to deck him on the spot, but my prim-and-proper mother would have been too disappointed in my unladylike behavior, so I restrained myself.
Chugging from my glass, I racked my brain for a witty comeback, but nothing good came to mind. “Dating blows. Not all of us meet the love of our life in high school.”
“Hang in there, kid. There’s a guy crazy enough to put up with you and your bullshit out there somewhere.”
“Am I supposed to say thank you to that?” I bit back.
“It’s said out of love, Arianna.” Using my full name was his way of digging the knife farther in. Everyone knew how much I loathed it. The singsong frilly moniker didn’t suit me in the slightest.
Within the span of thirty minutes, countless extended relatives exhaustively droned on about my lack of prospects. I hated the prying questions about my social life, and the ones asking when I would finally settle down were the worst. Was it so hard to believe that a single woman in her mid-twenties wasn’t dreaming of walking down the aisle and hunting for Mr. Right every waking second of her life?