“Eh, it’s okay. Last-minute location change threw everyone off. We spent an hour in the hotel gardens before Mom decided it didn’t look good enough.”

“Hey,” I whisper closely to him, making sure that Wyatt can’t hear. He’s distracted by how ostentatious the backyard is anyway, with the infinity pool and fountain and statues. You’d think we lived in a museum. “You remember what you agreed to last night, right? With Wyatt?”

“Yeah, of course,” Michael says. It’s a bit of a relief. I’d expected him not to remember, to go back on his promise. “Wyatt’s still down, right?”

I nod. “We’ve already brainstormed some ideas.”

“The kid’s got pipes.” Michael looks over at him. Wyatt’s now talking to Lindsay about who knows what, the two of them laughing. “Does he have an agent? He need representation?”

Not exactly where I thought this conversation might go. I’d rather not be having this talk for Wyatt. He should be involved too. But I don’t know how he feels about talking to Michael about this stuff directly either.

“He wants to be a singer,” I say. “And he’s amazing. He can play guitar too.”

“I saw him carrying it around in the lobby when you both got here. If he’s an indie kind of kid, I’m always on the lookout for those. They’re popular online right now.”

“He’s got what you need.”

Michael smiles. “Good. We’ll see how he does at the wedding. Something tells me he’s got a bit of stage fright.”

“A bit.” I look over at him again, still amazed by everything surrounding him.

Eventually, Ashley and her bridesmaids are done with their pictures, and it’s our turn. The five of us line up all in various orders. I’m always on the end, though, the plight of every person five foot five inches and under.

We stand there, striking poses, hands behind the back, hands out front, arms around shoulders, feet spread apart. I can’t imagine that these photos will come out well or interesting—but, hey, I’m not the one paying for them. Lindsay and Wyatt both watch me from the side, covering their mouths, staring. It’s obvious they’re laughing at me, but I can’t even be angry at either of them. I’m sure I look like a huge dork.

Finally, we get to take a break, and it’s time for Ashley and her parents to take some photos, so I walk over toward Lindsay and Wyatt.

“We’re having a game night,” Lindsay says right off the bat.

“Game night?”

“It was her idea,” Wyatt adds.

“Besides, all the adults are getting drunk in the lounge tonight for the bridal party.”

“I thought the bridal party had already happened?” Wyatt asks.

“No,” I correct. “That was the bridal shower.”