Year 28 - J.L. Mac Page 0,22

and Doug,” I announce as I turn back to the room. They’re all looking at me a little nervously.

“Uh… do I have food in my teeth or something?” I laugh, my eyes dart between all of them.

“Go on,” our mom says quietly, motioning her chin my direction. Ellie nods and swallows roughly, her neck working with effort. It instantly reminds me of being a kid in trouble.

“Rae, um… I was meaning… to tell you… I mean… I should have already but… I mean you’re you and I’m me and… it’s hard and you’re scary sometimes,” she pouts like she did when we were kids. “It’s hot in here,” she fans her face and cracks the lid on a bottle of water, guzzling half of it down. I fold my arms and narrow my eyes.

“Spill it.” She groans loudly and turns away from me. “Ellie,” I warn.

“Sy is Doug’s best man,” she blurts out. Sy. The Sy. My Sy. How did I miss this little detail?

You didn’t think to ask, you selfish bitch, Self-Loathing explains coolly, and she’s not wrong. The witch.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t come if you knew. I’m rotten, I know but… Doug told me he would have wanted Teddy to be his best man but since he can’t obviously, he said Sy was his second choice. Sy has done a lot for Doug the last few years and all. You know how close Chick and Sy and Doug and Kyle all were growing up,” she rattles on and I want very badly to shake the shit out of her but the professional shit show handler in me calls that part of myself to heel like a petulant puppy.

I can handle this one of two ways. I could come unglued on my sister and ruin this moment by acting like a bitter, immature girl-woman which would immediately give away how hung up on the past I actually am or I can be the buttoned up professional badass that I am particularly when I am stuck with someone whom I consider the enemy. Sylas Broussard is definitely the enemy.

“Yes,” I say evenly, nodding my head measuredly. “You should have told me weeks ago because I would have put you out of your obvious misery by letting you know that Sylas Broussard is just a guy from ages ago. No bad blood. No ill will. We’re all adults here and this is your wedding. Nothing could ruin how happy I am for you,” I smile my best smile—the one I use for press kit headshots and look at the women in front of me one by one, selling my lie with a cool demeanor. My heart is thrashing around in my chest like a trophy tuna on a boat deck but they don’t need to know that.

I have to be on Sylas’ arm two days in a row. Fuck.

I mentally attempt to confer with my inner circle for input but apparently they’re all collecting their thoughts. “Anything else I need to know?” I take a pointed look at Momma. She puts up a finger and steps forward to say something but she’s cut off by the reverend.

“Ladies, we’re ready,” the reverend’s muffled voice calls from outside the door. Momma snaps her lips shut.

“We’ll be right out,” I shout back. “We’ll talk in a bit,” I nod to Momma who gives me a return nod. “You heard the man.” I say syrupy sweet with a megawatt smile dialed up to a ten. I turn to the door and open it absently wondering where the hell I left my antacids. A gust of cool air wafts my way, carrying with it the scent of one very sharply dressed Sylas. He’s standing in front of the arched entrance to the large room where the ceremony and reception will take place, looking directly at me. Dad, Doug, Chick, Will, and Kyle are lined up in their appropriate order behind Sy. I breeze over to him hating that I’ll have to touch him, smell him, feel him so close to me. He crooks his elbow my direction and I slip my arm in place doing my best to ignore the whirl of butterfly wings in my belly. Reverend James begins coaching us all through the rehearsal and we are prompted to walk painfully slow down the long cream carpet leading to where the altar will be tomorrow.

“Sylas, good to see you again,” I say politely with a genial smile on my face which feels awkward