Dirty Work

1

The groom and best man arrived late for the ceremony—about five minutes before the wedding was supposed to start. My sister Marie stood at the window of her dressing room and heaved a sigh of relief at the sight of Dexter, her groom, racing across the parking lot. Thank goodness. Here they come. The color returned to her fair complexion. Charlie, text Daddy. Tell him we're ready, would you?

Because Marie was two years older and therefore the boss of me, I complied. At the same time, I handed a tissue to mom. She dabbed at the tears on her cheeks. She'd been on the verge of a breakdown all morning, due to her eldest daughter getting married and the discomfort of seeing my father. She began fussing over Marie's dress, adjusting straps and fluffing ruffles, a brave smile on her face.

Mom, stop. You're making me crazy. Marie rolled her eyes at me. Charlie, do something.

Mom, maybe you should head to your seat. I gently took her arm and nudged her toward the door. I've got this.

Mom draped her arms around Marie and squeezed until she protested. I'm so proud of my girl, marrying such a successful man. Marie gently disentangled herself. Mom sighed then patted my cheek. Don't worry, Charlie. There's a man out there somewhere for you, too. Somewhere in her words lingered a note of disbelief that stung, like I couldn't get married if I wanted to.

Who would have thought I'd be the first to get married? Marie turned to admire her reflection in the mirror for the hundredth time. You were always the one dreaming about your big day, not me. Remember your hope chest and your pitiful scrap book?

I still have it. I mustered a smile. Since I was a little girl, I'd been dreaming of my wedding day, saving magazine pictures and fabric swatches. Since Marie had been too busy with work, I'd used those same concepts to plan Marie's wedding.

You should go out with Kevin, from the mailroom. He's nice, solid, dependable. With a smirk, she straightened the diamond pendant dangling around her neck.

I'm too busy with school right now. Maybe after graduation. Although I smiled, I knew it would never happen. I didn't want nice, solid, or dependable. I wanted a love to last a lifetime; someone to hold my hair back when I was sick, someone who laughed at my horrible jokes, and someone who saw through my flaws to the real me.

At the rate you're going, you'll be a senior citizen by then.

I'm graduating in the fall. To redirect the conversation away from my numerous shortcomings, I turned to Marie's favorite subject—herself. You look amazing, She'd always been the prettier one, and today only served to exaggerate our differences. Her white bridal gown draped perfectly on her tall frame and puddled on the floor in frothy, white layers. In contrast, my pale green dress emphasized all the lumps and bumps from too many chocolate milkshakes and too little exercise. Part of me suspected, she'd chosen this dress for precisely those reasons. You're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen.

I know, right? She fluttered her hands in front of her eyes. Don't make me cry. You'll ruin my makeup.

A hesitant knock sounded on the heavy wood door. At Marie's bidding, my dad entered the room. I'd never seen him in a tuxedo. Usually, he wore his factory uniform or jeans and a sweatshirt. He twitched his shoulders and ran a finger around the inside of his collar. My mom stiffened. They stared at each awkwardly. Marie remained oblivious, and who could blame her? This was her big day. The last thing she needed to worry about was the ongoing tension between our separated parents.

Hey, Dad. I leaned forward so he could kiss me on the cheek.

Hi, pumpkin. He squeezed my shoulder. The warmth in his voice chilled as he nodded to Mom. Hello, Margie.

Mike. Mom didn't attempt to hide her irritation with him. Dad had moved out six months ago, and neither of them had dealt well with their new relationship status. I'd grown up hearing their arguments, seen Mom's tears, and watched Dad take his frustrations out on the drywall in the garage. Their issues had been the reason I'd chosen family and marriage counseling as a career.

Dad turned to face Marie. Oh, my goodness. Is this really my little girl? Although he'd never admit it, Marie had always been his favorite. I knew it. She knew it, and she lorded it over me the way only a big sister could. He took a step back to admire her. Are you ready to walk down the aisle?

Yes, Daddy. Charlie, grab my train. Hurry up. She looped her arm through his and waited impatiently for me to gather the seven feet of satin and tulle from the floor.

The four of us filed out the door. Mom finally allowed one of the ushers to take her to the front of the church. I found my place in the processional and tried to calm the butterflies in my stomach. Three hundred friends and family members waited in the cathedral, their voices a dull murmur. At last, the string quartet shifted into strains of Pachelbel’s Canon in D, signaling the start of Marie's new life.

While the ceremony droned on, I tried to focus on the minister's words, the meaning of commitment, and the joy in seeing my workaholic sister reach this milestone in her adult life. Between the two of us, she'd always been the one who wanted a career, and I'd always been the one who wanted a home and family. Fixing her up with Dexter and seeing them get married, was the highlight of my twenty-five years. When the bride and groom exchanged rings, my eyes blurred with tears. I blinked and resisted the urge to sniffle. Over Dexter's shoulder, my gaze locked onto the best man, Colton Beckett. He was staring at me with unabashed curiosity.

We hadn't been introduced. He'd been caught up in some kind of work emergency and missed yesterday's rehearsal—but Dexter's endless retelling of Colton's manwhoring ways had given me enough information to form a negative opinion. Deep brown eyes caught my gaze again from beneath eyelashes wasted on a man. Swoon. Those bedroom eyes promised orgasms from dusk until dawn followed by a healthy helping of trouble. I knew his type; captain of the football team, class president, the kind of guy who'd tormented me in high school for my big boobs and thick thighs while he dated the skinny prom queen. I lifted my chin and glared. One corner of his oh-so-luscious lips curled into an amused grin.

An hour later, after endless photographs and smiling, we piled into the ballroom at the country club. A wave of pride rushed over me. I blinked back the sting of tears. Everything was just as I'd ordered; sumptuous bouquets of white roses and lilies, crisp white table linens, gold table service, and miles of green ivy draped from every available column, cornice, and archway. Marie had given me free rein with the decorations and budget, so I'd lived out all my romantic fantasies, because let's face it—I wasn't getting married anytime soon. Maybe never. I hadn't had a date since high school.

Marie and Dexter claimed the floor for their first dance. They made a gorgeous couple; her sleek darkness contrasted with his golden boy blondness. I clasped my hands together and sighed at the spectacular tableau. Eventually, Dexter's parents joined them, followed by Dad and his girlfriend. Mom crossed her arms over her chest and smiled, her pain oblivious to everyone but me. I started in her direction, but a touch on my arm stopped me.

Care to dance? The deep male voice vibrated all the way down into my panties. I looked up, up, and even higher into Colton's deep-set, chocolate brown eyes.

His request nearly knocked me out of my uncomfortable four-inch heels. I glanced over my shoulder to be certain he was talking to me and not one of the other bridesmaids. No, thank you.

Really? Are you sure? An adorable blush brightened his high cheekbones. With a show of amazing dimples, he pressed a hand over his heart. You have no idea how long it took to get my courage up to ask you.

That's a great line, but I don't believe you for a minute. Every pair of female eyes had glanced in his direction over the past few seconds.

Come on. You know you want to. He lifted an eyebrow, his dimples deepening.

How could I resist? Besides, it would be rude to refuse, right? Um, okay, but I'm not a very good.

Well, I'm great, so you're in good hands. He took my fingers in his, the warm and slightly rough scratch of his palm sent shivers up my back. I tried not to picture how those big hands might feel on my breasts.

When we reached the dance floor, I expected him to hold me at arm's length. Instead, he encircled my waist with a forearm and pulled me close. Good gravy, the man was nothing but hard pectorals, rippling abs, and bulging biceps beneath his tuxedo. He smelled like soap and aftershave and sin. My breasts flattened against his chest, my nipples poking into him, insistent and needy, reminding me how very long it had been since I'd been laid.

I'm not a huge fan of weddings, are you? Colton asked, to break the awkward silence.

Oh, I love them. What's not to like? I pulled back to get a better look at his face, disbelieving.

He shrugged. The food is good, and I always enjoy the open bar, but overall, I think the institution of marriage is antiquated in our day and age.

You're kidding me. I stopped, mouth agape at his traitorous confession, causing the couple behind us to bump into his back. With a nudge, he set us in motion again. Marriage is one of the noblest traditions in the history of mankind. I love everything about it; the pageantry, the symbolism, the vows to love someone until the end of time.

Or until the next best thing comes along. His laughter made my cheeks burn.