Page 3 of Rootbound
Yup, definitely too bubbly for us today.
I look back to Ava, already anticipating what’s about to come out of her mouth.
“Gals? What are we, eighty-five?” She snorts.
“She’s sweet and it’s Sunday brunch. She’s probably just excited for her tips. By the way, where are Jack and Casey today? They were more than welcome to join us.”
“I know, but they were happy in the hotel room and nursing their own kind of hangovers, I think. They were both propped up in bed watching Paw Patrol when I left.”
I smirk at the mental image. Jack is a mini Casey these days. And, despite his jokes and various sarcastic comments about missing sports, I know Casey loves just about every kid show out there. Except, apparently, something calledCaillou—who is akin to the devil’s spawn, according to him.
“Kayla was so grateful for how you came through last night. Thanks again. I’ve never gotten the warmest vibes from her and now she’s already texted me twice today to make sure I passed along her thanks.”
Kayla is Casey’s cousin and the bride of the wedding we’re recovering from. Her photographer’s flight was rescheduled so that she could attend her niece’s birth, and then delayed last minute. She wasn’t going to make the ceremony. There would still have been a videographer, and the photographer was there in time for the reception, but I get that it would have been pretty devastating for those memories of the rest of the day to go un-captured.
“It’s no problem, I’m glad it worked out. And I hope she’s not still pissed. I know I wouldn’t have missed Jack’s debut for anything either,” I say.
“The photographer offered her afullrefund and still came for the reception, plus you’re basically the best photographer upgrade ever, and took her wedding photos for free—which I still don’t agree with, by the way. If she’s still pissed, she’s an idiot.”
I dust my shoulder off sarcastically. “True.” I smile.
The mimosas arrive, and since I know it’ll end up doing us some good, I pour each of us a glass before second thoughts take hold. She likes a 50/50 ratio of juice and champagne in hers, whereas I prefer mine to taste like it drove by an orange grove and picked up an orange essence, so I make them accordingly.
“Ugh. I mean what’s even the point of the juice when you do it like that?!” she says with more venom than I think she intends. I respond with an unladylike gulp.
“Hey, last time I just wafted the orange juice towards the champagne. I did this for your benefit.”
She shrugs me off before changing course.
“No, but really Tait, thank you. I know you haven’t taken wedding photos in a while, so I hope that was okay? You’re okay, right?”
Irritation flares, whipping through me with surprising force, and I have to take another sip before answering. I staple the nonchalant smile onto my face.
“Ave, we were dancing and having a blast all night. I took full advantage of getting to party during the reception. I could have just jetted home after the ceremony. You were with me. Did I look broken or even upset to you?”
She smiles at that. “No, no you didn’t. In fact, I did catch you flirting with that groomsman at the bar—who asked Casey for your number, by the way. You were doing great for a minute there—” She sighs and her tone flattens. “—and then spent the whole night dancing with the three-year-old instead.”
She’s right, I haven’t done wedding photography for quite some time. But it’s less nuanced than what I photograph now, and it was actually refreshing to have some specific parameters to follow: simply capture the happy people on their happy day.
“Hey, that was not on me. I even asked what’s-his-face—”
“Ryan. He was literally the best man and was introduced numerous times throughout the night, Tait.”
“—what’s-his-face,to dance. He wasn’t into thefundancing and did not even participate in the conga line. Youknowhow I feel about that. He just wanted to chat, and I could tell he was working up to ask for a slow dance, which is the lamest.”
“Oh my god. Someone not dancing at a wedding is not an in-depth view into their psyche, Tait. He was smoking hot, is single, has no baggage, and is adoctorfor fuck’s sake. I had high hopes. I know you avoid the rugged ones these days, but we both know that’s your type, and he is very outdoors-y. He seemed extremely nice, too. Did you actuallyaskhim to dance?”
Our tots arrive then, and we both shovel some onto our plates a little too quickly to be dignified. Desperately wanting to change the subject, and not having any great comebacks in my addled arsenal at the moment—I am disturbed that she has caught on to the fact that I avoid a “type”—I reply lamely, “My, my, Ava Jean Pruitt. Such language! From a mother no less.”
She tosses some food back and doesn’t reward my dumb remark with a response. I don’t blame her. Theattempt was as subtle as a gun, and about as sharp as a marble.
Since I can’t help but hate when she’s disappointed, and wish she’d stop letting her worry over me take away from her own happiness, I give in.
“Okay, Imayhave just said that I was going to go hit the dance floor. But the invitation in that is implied. And it is a legit theory. If he can’t fun-dance at a wedding, where everyone of all ages is fun-dancing and there’s zero excuse to be self-conscious, then he’s probably just not that much… fun. ,And you know that slow dancing doesn’t count either—the combo of the wedding atmosphere, booze, music—that’s just a dude trying to make a girl feel twitterpated enough to hop into bed.”
She rolls her eyes, the expression exaggerated as she attempts to chew an overlarge bite. “I’m choosing to ignore theBambireference, but we will need to circle back to the fact that you need to start spending more time with grownups and probably less with Jack. Why is fun always your first andonlypriority, though? What about a genuine connection with another human? We both know that the moment they actually do have anything else going for them, you lose interest. I’m not saying it had to be hot doctor Ryan, but Jesus, Tait, there’s always something. You need to break the dry spell. It’s time.”
I sigh, and decide to give one more shot at lightening the mood. “Remind me to avoid hungover you next time. Booze takes you deep whereas it leaves me floating happily in the shallows.” I continue before she can protest, “BUT, I do get it and I love you. I wanted to just have a good time. I’m glad it happened to be right by home and everything, too. And, most importantly, I don’t need apersonto be happy, or tohave a good time. I’d hoped you would have known that by now.” She rolls her eyes some more at that and I sense more of a lecture coming, so I press on. “Youknowthat I am now the proud owner of an air fryer. I am on a first name basis with all three of my Amazon delivery drivers, Ave. My life is full of joy.”