L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (15 page)

bowtie as I walked into the room.
“In true bride form: nervous, stressed, and ready to be done with

He nodded and turned back to the mirror, scowling as his bowtie refused to cooperate. “Can’t say I blame her.” Looking at me in the mirror, he asked, “How does she look?”
“Rick, if I have to tell you what your own woman looks like—” “Oh fuck you. Come on. Tell me.”
I cringed. “Dude, you don’t want to know.”
“What?” He turned around, eyes wide.
“Seriously.” I raised my palms, shaking my head and grimacing.

“Just… I can’t….”
He blanched. “Dustin….”
As much as I tried to keep a straight face, his horrified expression

made me crack a smile. “She looks great.”
“Asshole.” He laughed and looked in the mirror again, fixing his
boutonnière. “Tell me someone’s keeping Mom busy?”

“Damn it,” he said. “She’s just the person I want to deal with today.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “At least you’re off the ‘when are you going to get married’ hook.” I put my foot up on a chair to dust my shoe off. If the military had instilled anything in me, it was an obsessive need to make sure my dress shoes were perfectly shined and polished.
“Jesus, she didn’t waste any time pushing you back out on the prowl, did she?”
I glanced up at him, scowling, then looked down again as I retied my shoe. “No, definitely not.”
“Yeah, but it’s only been what, six months since—”
I held up my hand and shook my head. “Rick, this is your wedding. We don’t need to talk about this.”
He shrugged, adjusting his tux coat and laughing as he did. “I don’t know, might give me something to keep my mind
off
the fact that this is my wedding.” Then his smile fell. “Sorry, I didn’t—”
“It’s okay. I just, it doesn’t seem appropriate to be talking about a divorce at a wedding.”
“Fair enough.” He glanced in the mirror. “Though between you and me….” He hesitated.
I raised an eyebrow. “What?”
He turned around and clapped my shoulder. “Look, I know the rest of the family gives you hell for it, but I’m proud of you for doing it.”
“For—” I cocked my head. “For what?”
He winked. “For kicking that psychotic bitch to the curb.”
My jaw dropped. Then I laughed. “God, at least someone gets it. I’m pretty sure Mom’s disinherited me for it.”
Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “She’ll get over it.”
“Yeah,” I said bitterly. “As soon as I find someone to take Stephanie’s place.”
He turned to get his shoes off of the table. “You’ll find someone eventually, though—” He paused again, then shook his head.
“What?”
As he sat, pulling one of his shoes out of the box, he said, “Honestly, between Mom and your ex, I’m surprised you haven’t sworn off women altogether.”
My blood ran cold, and I tried to swallow. Couldn’t.
He looked up, chuckling. “I’m kidding, man, relax.”
Shifting nervously, I cleared my throat. “I know,” I laughed, hoping it didn’t sound as forced as it was. “I was just imagining how Mom would react if she found out that I was the gay son, not you.”
“Hey!”
I ducked as his tennis shoe flew at my head. “Hey! No violence. This is a wedding, not a cage match.”
He froze, cocking his head. “I wonder if we could convince the bridesmaids to have a cage match….”
“Ah, but if we do, you won’t get to be there to enjoy it.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“Because by then, you’ll be a respectable married man, whereas I—the bachelor brother—would be sure to—” The other shoe flew at my head. “Dude, do you want to have to explain to Lisa or Mom why you have a black eye in all of your pictures?”
“Of course not,” he said, wincing as he pulled his dress shoe on. “That’s why I threw the shoe at
you
.”
I picked it up and gestured menacingly with it. “Yeah, but now I can throw it
back
.”
“Don’t even think—”
The door opened, and we both turned. Paul, the bride’s father, leaned in. “The photographer needs the two of you in five minutes.”
“Almost ready,” Rick said, nervousness creeping into his voice.
“We’ll be there in a minute,” I said.
Paul smiled and disappeared.
Rick stood, straightening his tux and moving his feet gingerly. “Okay, I guess it’s time to go be respectable gentlemen.”
Still holding his thrown tennis shoe in one hand, I nodded and picked up my tux coat. “Yeah, time to look like mature adults.” I started towards the door. “Oh, by the way, Rick?”
His eyebrows lifted. “Hmm?”
“Think fast.”
The shoe narrowly missed his shoulder. He watched it land, then looked at me. “You are so fucking dead.”
“Murder?” I reached for the door. “That would be two life sentences in one day, wouldn’t it?”
He chuckled, shook his head, and we went out to meet the rest of the wedding party—aside from Lisa—for photos. After the ceremony, we’d stand for even more photos, this time with the entire wedding party together.
Christ, this day is never going to end.
As the photographer gave orders and posed us in varying combinations, I couldn’t shake the uncomfortable knot in my gut. Over and over, my brother’s comment echoed in my brain:
Honestly, between Mom and your ex, I’m surprised you haven’t sworn women off altogether.
That wasn’t what I was doing, was it?
Of course I’d wondered about that from the beginning, but hearing Rick say it unsettled me. I was used to domineering, controlling women, but I knew not all women were like that. Most of the women I’d dated since Stephanie certainly weren’t. Kate was nothing like that. My sister had somehow turned out to be just the opposite of our mother. If anything, my mother and ex-wife were in the minority.
Still, they had been two of the biggest female influences in my life. Was that really why I’d suddenly been drawn to a man?
“Dusty?”
I turned in the direction of the voice.
Kari, my sister, cocked her head. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I said. “Just thinking.”
Her concerned expression changed to a sympathetic one, her brow knitting together as she pursed her lips. “Are you going to be okay today? I mean with—” She paused, glancing around at the wedding decorations and guests.
I smiled. “I’ll be fine.”
I’m too busy wondering if I’m gay to let the wedding rub salt in my wounds.
“You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
The ceremony was starting, so she went to sit with our mother as I went to the back of the church with the other groomsmen.
The processional started. The other bridesmaids and groomsmen left in pairs, and finally I offered my elbow to the maid of honor. She and I walked down the aisle, and I stood behind my brother.
When the music changed and everyone stood to watch Lisa and her father come down the aisle, déjà vu kicked me square in the gut. My mind went back to the moment when the doors had opened and I had seen Stephanie coming down the aisle. I swallowed hard, choking back emotion. No matter how much hell I had gone through with her in our ten years of marriage, I had loved her when I married her and realized that on some level, whether it made sense or not, I still loved her.
I caught myself thumbing my ring finger as I watched Lisa come down the aisle. She was stunning in her wedding dress, and even halfway across the church and obscured by the veil, her feelings for Rick were written on her face. My brother sniffed, quickly wiping his eye, and I envied him.
Rick took Lisa by the hand, and they faced each other in front of the pastor, wringing each other’s hands nervously, exchanging tearful smiles. I couldn’t see Rick’s face, but I could see the way his thumbs moved back and forth across the backs of her hands, like he just needed to remind himself, over and over, that she was really there.
If ever I had witnessed a couple so completely in love, each so certain that the other was
the one
, that everything about this moment was right, I was witnessing it now. Standing up there over a decade ago, a scared kid with no idea what I was getting myself into, I hadn’t felt that certainty. I think I always knew, consciously or not, that my marriage wouldn’t last. What I wouldn’t have given to feel the way Lisa and Rick obviously felt.
My knees almost buckled as a memory flickered through my mind, and I realized that I
had
felt that certainty before.
For all of my doubts and second thoughts and reservations, nothing had ever felt more perfect than the first time I had woken up with Brandon in my arms.

T
HE
ceremony finally ended. I managed to will my legs to get me back up the aisle and made it through the receiving line. Mercifully, the receiving line also ended eventually, and the photographer ushered the bride and groom out for some of their portraits, giving me time to disappear for a few minutes before I had to put on a happy face for the camera once again.

With a more or less believable excuse about leaving something in the room where Rick and I had changed earlier, I slipped away.
In the tiny, stuffy room, I took my coat off, laid it on the table, and dropped into one of the chairs, resting my elbows on my knees and rubbing my eyes. Letting out a breath, I replayed the ceremony in my mind. I don’t know which revelation unsettled me more: that I wasn’t nearly as over Stephanie as I thought, or that I felt so strongly about Brandon.
Even if my initial attraction to him had been a way to get over her, there had been plenty of other “not Stephanie” candidates along the way, and none of them had had this effect on me. If this were a rebound, then it made about as much sense as breaking an addiction to one drug by getting hooked on a stronger one.
“Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing my eyes again.
Someone knocked. “Dusty?” It was Kari.
“It’s open.”
She came in and shut the door behind her. “The photographer is almost done with Rick and Lisa. Mom wants us all front and center.”
I rolled my eyes and stood, reaching for my coat.
“Are you sure you’re okay, Dusty?”
Thumbing my ring finger, I couldn’t even muster the energy to put on a smile and pretend everything was fine. “I’ll live.”
“That doesn’t sound like ‘okay’ to me.”
Avoiding her eyes, I brushed phantom dust off of my shoes. “What do you want me to say?” I wasn’t angry with her. If anything, I was just exasperated. Exhausted.
“I just want to know if you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”
I gave a half-hearted shrug and pulled my coat around my shoulders. “It’s only been a few months. It’s just going to take some time.”
“I know, I can’t even imagine.” She folded her arms across her chest and cocked her head. “Why did you agree to be the best man? You had to know this would be hard on you.”
Buttoning my jacket, I said, “Rick was my best man, and I always promised him I’d be his. And it’s not like I would have missed his wedding.”
“True. But still—”
“Come on, the photographer’s probably waiting.”
“You mean
Mom’s
probably waiting,” she said as we started down the hall.
“Exactly,” I muttered, clenching my fist and willing myself to stop searching for the band I’d taken off a long time ago.
She glanced over her shoulder at me but didn’t push the issue. Instead, she said, “Fair warning: I think Mom has her eye on several of the ladies for you.”
I groaned. “Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
“Good God, she just doesn’t quit,” I said. “Do you think she’d back off if I said I was seeing someone?”
Kari stopped in her tracks and spun around so fast I almost collided with her. “You’re seeing someone?”
I turned her around by the shoulders and gave her a gentle push to keep walking. “No, but I could tell her that.”
“And then you could listen to her demand to know why you didn’t bring the mystery lady to the wedding.”
“Great. I can’t win, can I?”
“No, you definitely can’t,” she said. “I’ll try to distract her with the baby at the reception, but no promises.”
“Ah, the grandbaby diversion,” I said with a laugh. “Foolproof. Please do.”
“You’d better be grateful.” She shot me a playful glare as we walked out of the church to the courtyard where everyone posed for portraits. “I’m letting her traumatize my kid to help you.”
As the photo session wore on, my mother dictated her list of required portraits to the photographer. Bride and groom with bridesmaids. Bride and groom with groomsmen. Bride and groom with the bride’s family. I wondered if Lisa’s parents were annoyed with the way my mother domineered this part of the wedding that they had paid for, but being the gracious, civil people that they were, they said nothing.
“Now I want one of just my kids,” our mother said.
“You’re kicking Lisa out of the picture?” Rick said.
“Oh it’s just for one,” Mom said.
“Couldn’t we have done this earlier?” Rick asked through his teeth. “When Lisa wasn’t in any of the shots?”
Gesturing casually, our mother said, “The light is so much prettier now than it was earlier.”
“It’s fine.” Lisa picked up her skirt and stepped to the side. “Gives me a minute or so away from the camera.” She laughed, but it sounded like she was clenching her jaw. Only my mother would so brazenly boot the bride out of a wedding portrait.
The photographer arranged the four of us in a line, with Tristan and me flanking Rick and Kari, since they were shorter. Just before the camera snapped, Kari elbowed me in the chest. On the next shot, I shoved her into Rick. Then Tristan cuffed Rick over the back of the head. Everyone around us howled with laughter as we behaved like the siblings we were, smacking and elbowing each other, fucking up shot after shot as the photographer tried to keep a straight face.
“Would you four knock it off and stand properly?” our mother finally barked.
“She lasted a good minute and a half this time,” I said, just loud enough for my siblings to hear as we all tried to compose ourselves.
“I think that’s a new record,” Kari whispered. Tristan snorted. Rick chuckled. I bit my tongue trying to keep from laughing.
“Okay, got it,” the photographer said.
“In spite of
their
best efforts,” our mother said. “Spouses in.”
My good humor faded. I had been the first of us to get married, and now it was my turn to be the single sibling in the “siblings with spouses” portrait.
“Dustin, why don’t you step out of this one?” my mother said, killing any humor I had left. She gestured for me to move aside, and my stomach did a flip.
Well, that’s a new low.
“Mom!” Kari said as her husband stepped into the picture.
“Oh honestly, it’s just for one picture,” Mom said.
“But—”
I gestured for Kari to let it go. Walking past Lisa, I smiled and said, “Tag, you’re in.”
She gave me a sympathetic smile. “That was cold of your mom.”
I shrugged. “Could be worse.” From behind the camera, I tried to keep a pleasant expression on my face as my siblings and their spouses were arranged for their portrait. From the looks on their faces, they were as stunned and annoyed by my mother’s request as I was.
In the past, the single siblings had still been invited into this shot. I forced myself to keep my irritation to myself; it was one of my mother’s passive-aggressive stabs to remind me of how she felt about my divorce. It was just a portrait, a petty thing, but the message was clear: I wasn’t a single sibling. I was the
divorced
sibling. It honestly surprised me that she hadn’t invited Stephanie to the wedding. I wouldn’t have put it past her to do it, just like I wouldn’t have put it past my ex-wife to show up.
The photo session finally ended, and we all headed to the reception. No one mentioned the portrait snub, probably following my lead and letting it go. They knew as well as I did that it wasn’t worth arguing about. A clash over something petty between my mother and Tristan had gotten more than a little ugly at Kari’s wedding, so it was best to just let it go.
At the reception, Kari handed off her son to our mother, hoping that would be enough to pacify her attempts to hook me up with every single woman in the room. When Mom wasn’t looking, I carefully slipped into the throng of guests and mingled with old friends.
It wasn’t long, though, before a tug at my sleeve caught my attention. I turned around to see my mother with my nephew on her hip and a pretty redhead next to her.
“Dustin, I want you to meet someone.”