Two hours later I sat in the reception tent with a huge slice of wedding cake in front of me. The dance floor was empty, as were most of the tables. Tamara sat beside me, what looked to be an entire half a tier of wedding cake crammed onto her plate. Since the wedding had never resumed, there really weren’t any guests to eat the cake, so Tamara had stated that she’d be damned if we didn’t eat and enjoy it. It wasn’t like she could return it. Despite her words, she was only poking at her ginormous slice with her fork. Holly just watched.
Several cops still milled around—some guests but others on duty finishing up their reports on the “interruption.” Crime scene techs combed the area around the gazebo, searching for the dart the hobgoblin had shot from his blowgun. It had yet to be found. One FIB officer had responded to the scene. Aside from the children, I was the only person who’d seen the true faces of the two bogeymen, but everyone had seen them vanish without a trace and there were more than a few sensitives who hadn’t felt an invisibility charm trigger. Despite all that, since no one had been hurt and there was no proof fae had been involved, the FIB agent who’d responded seemed less than interested in what he labeled “a disturbance of the peace.” When I’d ask about Falin, the agent had only scowled at me and refrained from answering.
So, cake.
But I wasn’t eating much more of it than Tamara was. I shoved it around my plate, staring at the fluffy white frosting. It was good cake. I knew that. I’d been part of the sample group who’d tasted all the options and helped Tamara decide which to order for tonight. But the sugary concoction no longer tasted good.
It tasted a lot like guilt.
“This is not what I imagined,” Tamara said, stabbing her cake. She’d said that exact phrase a dozen times over the last hour, and I still didn’t know how to respond. I wasn’t even sure she was aware she’d spoken. At least she wasn’t crying anymore.
Holly put her arm around Tamara’s shoulder, but she seemed just as lost for an appropriate response. I mean, this was not a “sometimes these things happen” kind of situation. People did not prepare for the possibility of bogeymen crashing their big day. There were no Hallmark condolence cards with sympathetic phrases for when your wedding turned into a crime scene.
“It could have been worse,” Tamara’s sister, Donella, replied. She’d floated between Tamara and their mother, so it was quite possible she hadn’t heard the earlier reiteration of the statement.
Tamara set down her fork. “Oh yeah? How, exactly, could it have gone any worse?”
Donella paused, her bite of cake hovering in front her mouth, and then she smiled. “Ethan could have been turned into a toad.”
Tamara’s lips parted, and for one lingering moment, I thought she’d laugh at that. Then her bottom lip stretched as the edges of her mouth turned down and she gave out a loud, stuttering sob. Her arms curved around her stomach, and she collapsed into herself.
Donella looked mortified, and far too stunned to move. I slid my seat closer to Tamara’s. I’m not what one would call a hugger, but I put my hand on her shoulder and squeezed lightly, offering what silent support I could. She shook, her entire body trembling with her tears.
“Maybe it’s a sign,” Tamara said, between gasps for air. “Maybe we should wait until the tests next month.” This she directed toward her still-flat stomach, her palm rubbing the space under her belly button.
I was about to tell her my theory on the two bogeymen. To apologize for my part in them coming here, to her wedding, and take any amount of debt that apology might require, when a deep masculine voice spoke from directly behind me, making everyone at the table jump.
“Are you saying there is anything those tests could tell us that would make you not want to marry me?”
Tamara twisted to stare at Ethan with rounded, red-rimmed eyes. “What if they tell us . . .” She trailed off, her hand once again pressing protectively against her stomach.
“We will deal with whatever happens, together.” He knelt in front of her, cupping both her hands in his. “Tamara Amelia Greene, I love you. Marry me. Right here. Right now.”
Tamara looked around at the disheveled group, at the disarray of the trampled scene, at the half-eaten cake, and then down at her white gloves that were stained with the makeup her tears had washed away. “This is not how I imagined it.”
“Oh, but think of the stories we’ll have,” Ethan said, and gave her a beaming smile before climbing to his feet and pulling her up after him. “The most important people are still here. Marry me, Tam.”