Mrs. Pierce frowns at her son. “We had fun in the kitchen, didn’t we, Andi?”
“We did!” I scoop asparagus onto my plate then pass it to Ryan. “It was a lot of fun. I’ve never made lefse before.”
“Did she pay you to say that?” Brody, the youngest, asks. He’s got an impish expression, and I can imagine that as the smallest of five boys, he had to learn cleverness at an early age. “One time, Mom paid me to tell Dad that—”
“Hey, now,” Mrs. Pierce interrupts. “Civil conversation at the dinner table, please.”
Mr. Pierce, a tall, stately gentleman, looks like he’s coached his fair share of hockey teams. He has a small scar above his eyebrow, salt and pepper hair, and a twinkle that lightens his otherwise intimidating stature.
He leans in toward his wife. “What didn’t you tell me, dear?”
Mrs. Pierce reddens. “Try the asparagus, Daniel.”
Ryan passes the plate to Brody who passes it to his father, and luckily, the topic is dropped. Ryan takes the moment of peace to rest a hand on my leg and squeeze. Next to us are Lawrence and Lilia, the Pierce parents are at either end of the table, and the rest of the brothers are scattered in between.
“So, Andi, tell us about yourself.” Mr. Pierce folds his hands, ignoring the steaming food on his plate. “We’re happy you could join us for the wedding. I hope you don’t mind the informality of the rehearsal dinner.”
“Yeah, we prefer simple,” Lilia takes the question over, her eyes shining. “My parents are arriving just before the ceremony. They were supposed to be here tonight, but their flight was delayed and they’ll have to fly out in the morning.”
“The wedding is really small,” Lawrence says. “We wanted to keep things simple.”
“Mostly, we just want to get married.” Lilia kisses him on the cheek. “Friends and family only.”
“Friends.” Lawrence leans heavily on the word, slurring it a little bit, having overindulged again. “You never did say, Ryan, how long the two of you have been dating.”
Ryan’s hand clenches in my lap. “Long enough.”
“Tell us how you met!” Mrs. Pierce chirps.
“Well,” I hesitate. “Ryan called Peretti’s—”
“Her dad owns the best pizza shop in Los Angeles,” Ryan interjects. “The best.”
“I introduced it to him,” Lawrence says with a smirk. “And to her.”
Lilia frowns at her fiancé. Apparently too much alcohol brings out the dickhead version of Lawrence. He hasn’t said anything awful yet, but it feels dangerous, as if we’re dancing around dynamite, hoping it won’t explode.
“I delivered a pizza and accidentally bumped my car into the back of his,” I say. “Ryan was an absolute gentlemen about the whole thing, even though I felt horrible.”
“We exchanged information, even though there was hardly any damage,” Ryan says, gliding over the fact that I’d left my bumper behind like a big, fat breadcrumb. “We ran into each other a few more times through Peretti’s, and—”
“And he surprised me at my comedy show on the night of Lawrence and Lilia’s party,” I add. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
“And she did amazing!” Lilia claps her hands. “The best I’ve seen.”
I blush. I know she’s exaggerating, but it’s still a little surreal that an entire party changed its course to show up at my show in the first place. “It was nice of them to come.”
Lawrence snorts, and Lilia elbows him.
“What?” Lawrence faces the table. “And then Andi slept over and the rest is history.”
“You’re in comedy?” Mr. Pierce ignores Lawrence. “Would I have seen you in anything? Television programs or Netflix?”
I shake my head. “Probably not. I’ve been playing at local clubs mostly, although I do have an audition for a pretty big pilot next week.”
“Next week?” Ryan turns to look at me. “Is this new?”
“I got the phone call from Nick as we were boarding the plane on the way here,” I say with an apologetic wince. “I’m sorry, I forgot to mention it in the whirlwind of today.”
“Congratulations!” Ryan says, a flicker of surprise passing through his gaze. “That’s incredible! Although, I did tell you this would happen, so you shouldn’t be surprised.”
Now he’s smiling again, clearly happy for me, and I lean in as he gives me a congratulatory hug.
“Andi, that’s wonderful,” Mrs. Pierce says. “You’ll have to let us know when you have a show. If Ryan ends up signed with the Lightning, we’ll have two reasons to come out there and visit.”
She winks, Mr. Pierce nods in agreement, and the rest of dinner thankfully dissolves into mindless chatter that’s interspersed with Lilia stealing Lawrence’s wine glass and replacing it with water.
It’s well past ten o’clock by the time we finally wrap dinner up. Most of the brothers are staying over at the house, save for Anderson, who doesn’t live far away. Lawrence lives in LA, so he’s stuck here, too.
Lilia helps her fiancé toward the bedroom, and I offer to help clear the table.
“Sure, dear, that’d be wonderful,” Mrs. Pierce says. “Only if Ryan doesn’t mind.”
“I’ll help too,” he says. “What can I do?”
“Bring these outside.” Mrs. Pierce gestures to the fold-up chairs they pulled in to accommodate the extra guests at the dinner table. “Andi and I can take care of the kitchen.”
The two of us sink into an easy silence as the rest of the boys settle near a bonfire out back. The scent of burning marshmallows wafts toward us, and it’s an entirely pleasant evening.
“Go on out to the fire,” Mrs. Pierce says once we’ve hauled all the dishes to the sink. “Ryan’s probably glued to his skewer. He does have a weakness for s’mores.”
I thank her for the lovely meal, wash my hands, and make my way toward the back door. We’ve made it past the potentially awkward dinner scene, and now we’re practically home free. All Ryan and I have to do the rest of the weekend is enjoy the Midwestern summer weather and celebrate a wedding.
Simple.
Resting a hand on the screen door, I stop. Lazy conversation filters through the open windows from the backyard, but it’s the second set of voices coming from upstairs that gives me pause. They’re in Ryan’s bedroom, if I had to guess, and the voices are animated, upset with one another, yet I can’t tell who’s there.
I consider going outside, but a thought holds me back. What if it’s Lawrence arguing with Ryan, or worse, Lilia?
“Hello?” I call upstairs, but nobody hears me—or at least, nobody responds.
I take another few steps.
I’m about to call again when finally, I start to recognize the voices. It’s Lawrence all right, and Ryan, and they’re arguing about something, someone—me, I realize with a start. They’re arguing about me.
“—you have to be a jerk at dinner, Law?” Ryan says. “You’ve known I was bringing her for a month. She hasn’t done anything to you.”
“Nothing to me,” Lawrence drawls. “Why’d you bring your bunny to my wedding?”
“She’s my girlfriend, asshole.”