Victor’s gaze narrowed, his lips lifted a tiny bit. “Interesting.”
What does that mean?
Corrie approached their little party and tucked her hand into the crook of Victor’s arm. She looked like his baby sister, not his future bride. Shannon actually felt a little ill.
“Honey, we need to get started.”
Shannon took that as her cue to leave. “Looks like everything is under control here. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Mrs. Harkin asked.
“No. It’s been a long day. I want to be fresh tomorrow, make sure I take pictures that last a lifetime.” Unlike this marriage.
That’s all the mother of the bride needed to hear. “We’ll see you tomorrow, then.”
Corrie pulled Victor away without a second glance.
Justin leaned in and whispered, “Bets are fifty bucks apiece. You in?”
She lifted her hand in a fist. “You’re both assholes. But I’m in.”
Justin bumped his fist with hers and walked to take his place by his brother.
Chapter Five
Maybe the mezcal the hotel provided in the room was a bad idea after all.
The first shot had tasted like motor oil. Not that Shannon had ever drunk motor oil, but she imagined the smoky, oily taste in her mouth was the closest she’d ever come to such a thing. The second shot wasn’t as bad as the first. By the time room service arrived with an order of nachos, the next shots weren’t bad at all. Drinking alone wasn’t something Shannon did on a normal basis, but watching Victor working the room with his fiancée hanging on his arm prompted the mezcal. By the time she fell asleep, Victor and Corrie had left her head . . .
Until the next morning.
She woke up with the sun, even though her head told her to go back to sleep. The time change always made the first night after flying east the hardest. Not to mention the hangover.
What had she been thinking?
Everything about the past twenty-four hours was completely uncharacteristic for her. She was the quiet one, the one who held her opinion to herself until it was absolutely necessary to express it. She didn’t tell strangers off on airplanes or encourage young brides to ditch their fiancés. And for all that’s holy, she sure as heck didn’t talk to the brother of the groom and tell him what a moron his brother was.
Now, to add insult, she was hungover.
Stomach nauseous, headache, dry mouth hungover.
She needed crackers and ice . . . and a full day to sleep this off.
Sun blazed from outside her window.
Sleep would have to wait.
“This is not okay,” she said to her empty room.
Without considering the time, she picked up the phone and dialed.
Avery answered with a groggy voice, “You’d better be dying.”
“I am.”
“What the hell, Shannon. Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s almost seven.”
“No, it’s five.”
Shannon would feel bad about this later, but right now she needed help. “I drank too much last night. I need a hangover cure, fast.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Noise over the phone indicated Avery was talking to her husband and probably getting out of bed.
“You need a hangover cure, so you called me.”
“You’re my youngest friend. I’m not judging . . . help, Avery. I made an ass of myself and can’t be sick today.” Her stomach didn’t like the adrenaline provided by the memories of the previous night.
“Okay, okay. What were you drinking?”
“Tequila . . . wine earlier, and mezcal.”
“Damn, woman. Okay, you need a Bloody Mary or mimosa. Which makes you feel less ill thinking about it?”
“You’re kidding. Hair of the dog?”
“Do I sound like I’m kidding? When does the wedding start?” Avery asked.
“Two.”
“That’s a little time. You could just sleep.”
“I have to start taking pictures of the wedding party at noon.”
“Then put on your dark sunglasses, go down to the restaurant, order a Bloody Mary and toast, and drink plenty of water. If you start feeling sick, drink another one.”
“I can’t do my job drunk.” Shannon could count on one hand how many Bloody Marys she’d consumed in her lifetime.
“Can you do your job tossing your cookies?”
Shannon rested her head in her hand. “What was I thinking?”
“You weren’t, obviously. But it’s kinda nice to know you’re not perfect.”
“Of course I’m not perfect.”
Avery chuckled. “Compared to me, you are.”
“That’s not true.”
“Hey, you’re the one waking my ass up at five in the morning searching for a hangover cure. Babe, you get points for that, I don’t. Bloody Mary. Trust me. Keep a tiny infusion going to ward off all the crap from