“Does it bother you?”

“It’d be a bit hypocritical of me. It’s not like I don’t see the appeal.” I wink at Sam, and he laughs.

“Was that the same Homecoming Jace was nominated in a towel?” I ask, recalling our previous conversation at the football game.

Sam grins. “Ah, no that was—”

“It seems like we’ve returned just in time.”

I turn away from Sam to see Jace and Gretchen have returned, each clutching two drinks. Jace hands me a glass of whiskey, and I take a sip of the smoky alcohol.

“If you don’t let him tell me what happened, I’m just going to imagine it’s worse than it really is,” I inform Jace.

“Oh, that’s not possible,” Sam interjects.

We both laugh, and Jace shakes his head.

“Gretchen’s got the inside scoop on everything, and apparently dinner’s about to be served. We’d better get to our seats,” he tells me.

“Are you trying to tempt me with food to stop me from finding out embarrassing stories about you?” I inquire.

“Is it working?” Jace counters, smirking.

“Yes.” I sigh. “Let’s go. Sam, find me later!”

I grin at him and give Gretchen a small smile, unsure of how to act around her now that I know the truth about her feelings toward Jace. She smiles back, but it’s clearly forced.

I follow Jace over to the table where the rest of his family is already seated. Each round table is surrounded with eight chairs, so there are two seats open for us.

We take our spots just as the servers move through the room, setting plates of mushroom ravioli and green salad in front of everyone.

While everyone is eating, various family members and close friends get up to offer well wishes to the newlywed couple.

After the speeches end, the violinist from the ceremony climbs up onto the raised stage with two men, one who is clutching a guitar, and the other a cello. They all begin playing in perfect synchrony as the bride and groom wander out onto the dance floor. They waltz in circles under the shimmering lights in time with the sweeping, slow music. As the final notes of the first song fade away, everyone applauds.

“Let us know if you have any requests!” the violinist offers, the microphone echoing her voice around the large building. “If we know it, we’ll play it!”

She steps back, and the band starts playing again, an upbeat number that causes a couple dozen guests to stand and head to the dance floor.

“Vivienne, what do you say?” Mr. Dawson asks from across the table. His eyes twinkle as he nods toward the dance floor.

“Sure, I’d love to,” I reply, standing. We head toward the dance floor. Mr. Dawson takes my hands, showing me the proper steps as he twirls me around. I’m quickly breathless from laughter as I try and fail to follow the intricate moves.

“Jace is going to have a field day with this,” I tell Mr. Dawson as I fudge another spin.