Page 96 of Steady Stroke
“Better than I deserve,” Emmett replied. “It’s nice to meet you, too. Congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thanks.” She waved her husband over, then introduced everyone.
Terry shook their hands with a genuine smile and firm grip. “I’ve seen clips of XYZ on YouTube,” he said. “You guys are awesome. Sucks what happened last year.”
“Thank you,” Lincoln said.
“Mercy says you all are doing a reunion performance next week.”
“Yes, we are. I’m looking forward to it.”
“And I want to hear all about it afterward,” Mercedes said. “I also want to chat more, but this is the part where Terry and I have to talk to every single person here before we get to eat.”
Lincoln laughed. “Good luck with that.”
“Thanks.” She kissed his cheek before wandering to the next cluster of people waiting to wish the new couple all the best.
He and Emmett sat.
“She’s very sweet,” Emmett said. “I think she liked me.”
“She loved you.” Lincoln tweaked his nose. “How could she not?”
Emmett simply smiled, and they kept eating.
Witnessing the interaction between Lincoln and his sister had been one of the most lovely and most painful experiences of Emmett’s life so far. Lovely because the siblings obviously had deep affection for each other and it showed in their words and actions and smiles. Painful because of the grief-stricken ache that squeezed his heart, reminding him of the little sister he no longer had.
It also intensified the guilt that was a now-living thing inside of Emmett, ripping apart his insides, shredding his soul from the inside out. He could have taken Mercedes’s brother away from her, the same way Chandler Gunn took his sister from him. The guilt made finishing his plate of food impossible, and he didn’t even eyeball the dessert table set up near the wedding cake.
Time took forever to pass. Several of Terry’s relatives stopped by to chat with David, who took great delight in introducing them around. Every new person he met only served to make Emmett feel less accepted, instead of more at ease. He’d been uncomfortable sitting in a Christian church, listening to religious vows being traded, and he was even less comfortable the more he mingled in the most stereotypically WASPish room of his life. He felt as though he had a giant sign over his chair that said “Brown Kid, Guard Your Valuables.”
But Lincoln seemed to be enjoying himself, so Emmett kept quiet and kept his trembling hands in his lap as often as possible.
The bridal party eventually settled with plates of food, andpeople started giving speeches. Emmett tried to concentrate on the words, but they were about people he didn’t know and events that hadn’t touched his life at all. Then the married couple danced alone together on a dance floor he hadn’t seen appear. Various combinations of dancers followed. Lincoln stiffened slightly when his father danced with Mercedes. The entire experience was surreal, even after the dance floor opened to all couples.
Mercedes tugged Lincoln out to dance with her, and Emmett fought against a rising tide of panic. His rock was gone, leaving him to flail in the open sea of strangers. Even David had drifted off at some point. Emmett was utterly alone.
Self-preservation had him standing. Moving. Seeking an exit of some kind.
He made it out of the ballroom to the corridor, and the shiny sign advertising the men’s restroom beckoned to him like a neon light. He bolted for it and locked himself in the stall farthest from the door, barely managing to sit on the seat before his entire body started shaking. Arms tight around his middle, Emmett rocked.
This is ridiculous, get yourself together so Lincoln doesn’t see what a pathetic mess you are.
Coming here was a mistake. He never should have fooled himself into believing he was strong enough to handle a crowd like this. Forget a dance with Lincoln, he couldn’t keep his head on straight sitting in a chair. And now he was melting down in a hotel bathroom stall, while normal people ate, danced, and had a good time. They celebrated a marriage while he quietly lost his mind.
Other men came and went. He tried concentrating on those sounds. Familiar things. Water running. Urinals flushing. Hushed conversations. Normal bathroom noises andactions that slowly helped him focus. His body calmed and the looming sense of imminent doom disappeared.
I can do this. I can do this.
He stayed put.
His phone beeped with a text.
Lincoln:You okay?
Bathroom. Be out soon.
Stomach?
