Page 71 of I Think He Knows
The guy definitely looks like he’s enjoyed more cocktail than shrimp tonight.
“Thanks,” I reply. “I had precisely nothing to do with any of it.”
Luke laughs and points at me with his beer bottle. “Hey, now that we’re family, can you tell me”—hic!—”washhhh it Pine?”
I smirk. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Hemsworth, then? Or Pratt?”
Fueled by my silence, Luke gasps. “Not Captain America?! He’s anational treasure.”
“I’m under NDA, dude,” I say with a laugh, shaking my head. “My lips are sealed.”
“But you told my sister?”
“Yes,” I acquiesce. “I told your sister.”
Luke smiles and looks across the party. Points his beer so aggressively that a spurt of dark liquid sloshes out. “You wan’ know something else?”—hic!—“I haven’t seen Lan this happy inaaaages.”
I follow the bottle to see that Lana has come out of the bathroom and is now standing on the patio, chatting with a best selling author. I smile at the sight. Her face is animated, sparkling. Shedoeslook happy, and I can’t help but wonder how much of that has to do with me. Whether it has anything to do with what almost just happened between us.
“I’m glad to hear that,” I tell Luke. “She makes me pretty damn happy, too.”
“Dunno why you’re talking to”—hic!—“me then, dude. You should go talk to her.”
“True. I like you plenty, but your sister is way prettier than you are.” I clap Luke on the back. “Maybe we should get you some water before I leave.”
It takes me ten minutes to get Luke a bottle of water and a couple of Advil from the medicine cabinet in one of my many bathrooms. Mindy’s already gone home with Allegra, so I order Luke a cab and wait for it to show up. I make sure he’s safely in the car and the cabbie has the right address so he doesn’t end up in, like, Augusta or something. Which may or may not be based on not one but several true stories involving Luke and beer.
I’m feeling like a pretty good fake brother-in-law-to-be by the time I amble back to the party, where the “barefoot and reckless” portion of the evening seems to be well underway.
The press have packed up and gone home, the band has been replaced by a semi-famous DJ, and the dance floor in the marquee is crowded with a throng of sweaty bodies and flashing strobe lights. I spot Elena chugging a Jager Bomb with an NFL player, Anthony cozying up to the drummer from the band, and Annie and Liam dancing in a surprisingly provocative fashion, attached at the mouth without a care in the world.
And then, there’s Lana Mae in the middle of it all, shoes kicked off, hair falling out of its updo. The sequins on her dress catch the light, and her eyes are closed, head thrown back in bliss and celebration.
Pure perfection.
A Hollywood playboy who actually deserves his “hit ‘em and quit ‘em” reputation is eyeing her like she’s a tasty snack, his eyes roaming over her face and body hungrily. A swift shot of jealousy courses through me, unleashing my inner caveman mentality:Mine. My wife.
The guy spots me and winks. I reply with an absolute death glare, cold and unwavering, until he backs away slowly, step by step, like she’s a bomb that’s about to go off.
Yup, that’s it. Back off, bozo. Call me Borat if you must, but this woman is definitely MY wife.
When he’s at a suitable distance (i.e. all the way across the party and out of my eyeshot), I stride across the marquee. I’m a man on a mission with one goal in mind: to slide my ams around my fake bride-to-be, pull her close until she’s pressed against me, and dance the night away with her.
And that’s exactly what we do.
24
LANA MAE
We Donovan siblings aren’t big on traditions, but we do have a couple that we always honor.
The first is Chinese food on Christmas, which has been a constant since our mom passed away almost ten years ago.
The second is… softball. We gather in a local park once a month on a Sunday afternoon for a family softball game. Though it usually involves much more heckling and laughing and talking than any actual softball playing.
The tradition was born a few months ago, when Annie and Liam showed up after a vacation to Mexico and announced that they’d eloped. Which was rude. As penance, Luke, Mindy and I teamed up and insisted thatweorganize the wedding party they were planning to throw for the friends and family who hadn’t gotten to be there for the big day. After a lot of wheedling, Liam and Annie acquiesced. And because the happy couple had pretty much fallen in love at a company softball tournament, we thought it would be hilarious to throw them a softball party for their wedding bash.