Page 19 of A Love Most Fatal

“Shall we?” I ask.

“Definitely.”

We walkto the wedding because the venue is just a few blocks away, and even though I live in a just-okay part of town, the place isnice. It’s an old mechanic’s shop turned into a hip, industrial party space that rich people pay way too much to rent.

I did offer up and down to drive since Vanessa’s wearing such high heels, but she said no to each one of my offers because she likes walking and that I would be amazed at the things she can do in her heels. (This made my neck hot because I just kept thinking about things she potentially does in those high heels and my mind isn’t better than that of my fourteen-year-old students, it’s just better trained.)

I lied about not wearing my best because the suit I am wearing is, pitifully, my best. I feel entirely underdressed next to her, but if she feels the same, she doesn’t let on.

When we get to the venue, I am impressed with how nice it really is. But then again, my uncle Dave is never one to hold back costs on a party, and a wedding is about the biggest party you can have. My cousin Sasha’s wedding still shows up in bridal magazines, and that was three years ago; she posts about it every time, so I am very up to date on how often she’s been written about.

“Greeting line first?” Vanessa asks, eyeing the line of people waiting to hug and congratulate my cousin and his blushing bride.

“They already had the ceremony,” I explain. “Don’t take a shot every time you hear the words ‘intimate’ and ‘special’ because you might get alcohol poisoning.”

“Duly noted.”

It would have made my mom’s whole year if Rex asked me to be a groomsman in his wedding, but I didn’t make the cut. He didn’t even invite me to theceremony, though he and I are close, in my estimation. The ceremony was just for a handful of their closest family to make it reallyspecial, a little note in the invitation told in fancy script.

Come celebrate with us afterward. Food, sweets, dancing, an open bar, and love in the air.

Gag.

“So, fill me in. What do I need to know? Who are the main players?” Vanessa says as we join the greeting line.

I point to the bride. “Phoebe. Very nice, makes delicious fruit salads, can’t remember what she does for work, though she told me it has something to do with content creation.”

“Pretty dress,” Vanessa notes.

“The groom is my cousin, Rex, full name Reginald. He works in stocks and more recently, crypto. He’s the oldest, and favorite, grandson. Every few months we get together for basketball or he invites me for drinks with thebros.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do, actually,” I admit. “He was the closest thing I had to a brother growing up, so he bugs the shit out of me sometimes, but he’s good. He’s. . .”

“Family?” she finishes.

“Family.” We are about three couples away from the front, and I now can see my uncle and aunt are receiving as well. Phoebe’s parents too, I presume, though I have never met them. “Next is Aunt Barb next to Uncle Dave. He’s my mom’s brother, and they are competitive in a very weird, adult way. Their otherdaughter Sasha is the one in the pink dress over there. Beware, she will be recording many videos on her phone, and if you’re too friendly, she’ll try to teach you a dance.”

“Speaking from experience?”

I give a grim nod and it lights up her face. Before she can ask more though, we’re up and Rex is pulling me into a hug, exclaiming how glad he is I could make it. My uncle tunes in, resulting in another round of hugging, my aunt even brings Vanessa in for one.

“You look familiar, have we met?” Rex asks Vanessa before we can say all our congratulations. Phoebe’s eyes go wide.

“Oh my god!” Phoebe’s hand darts to Vanessa’s forearm. “You’re Vanessa Morelli.”

Vanessa takes all these strangers touching her in stride, looking as pleasant as ever.

“I am,” Vanessa agrees. “Though, I’m sorry I’m not sure I know where we’ve met.”

“No,” Phoebe says. “I was the one in charge of getting quotes for last year’s 30 under 30 atThe Post. We talked on the phone.”

I recall now that she isn’t a content creator, but a content curator. She has a journalism degree. Honest mistake.

“Right. Phoebe?” Vanessa says.

“Yes!” I hope Phoebe never realizes that Vanessa maybe only knows her name because it was displayed on four different signs at the entrance. “Babe, she was like the biggest picture on the spread.”