Sleet Banshee by S.J. Tilly
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
MEGHAN
“I
need to wear dresses more often. You can eat as much as you want without fear of a tight waistband,” I tell Izzy as we polish off a pair of cupcakes.
“I know, right? Why do you think I live in wrap dresses? They can literally be adjusted mid-event.” Izzy winks.
Jackson only had one request for the wedding reception. He didn’t want anyone to have to wait for food. Like, at all. So I gave the guests options.
After the ceremony, the newly married couple take some time for photos throughout the museum, while the guests congregate on the top floor. As soon as we get off the elevator, there are waiters walking around with trays of champagne and the signature cocktail for tonight - the Kitten Cuddler. It’s a real thing. As soon as I found it, I knew they needed it. And - obviously - there’s a full open bar, so there’s no reason for anyone to stay sober if they don't want to.
To accommodate Jackson’s request, there are also waiters walking around with trays of finger food. All night. The menu will change each hour, so there's always something new and tasty at hand. But that part is really just for snacking. When the bride and groom finish their pictures, the buffet opens. I had figured with the money Jackson was dropping on tonight, he’d want table service meals, but they both agreed they preferred a laid-back atmosphere. So a bursting-at-the-seams buffet is what they got. From sushi to mini pizzas to tacos, this setup has everything. Not to be outdone by the savory stuff, there’s also a full dessert table that's been open-and-ready from the get-go. Since I had my first cupcake before dinner, I don’t feel that bad about the second one I just had. I may have had a tart, too. And maybe a truffle.
Izzy licks the frosting off her fingers. “I can’t believe they still have cake.”
I laugh. “When Jackson found out that I knew the owner of RitaCakes, he insisted. Not like having extra cake is ever a bad thing. Speaking of which, they’ll probably be cutting that soon.”
As soon as I say it, I see the happy couple head over to the cake table with the photographer.
“Ugggh, Rita’s is the absolute best! I need to dance this cupcake off a bit so I have room for more,” Izzy tugs my arm towards the dance floor.
“Can’t argue there.”
Tonight is the first time I’m using this particular band, and they’re amazing. They have a full DJ table, a singer, a guitar player and a saxophone player. Sounds weird on paper, sounds fabulous in person. And clearly the guests agree, since the dance floor is hopping. Now that dinner’s over, the lights have dimmed, and the volume has turned up. It’s officially a party from now until midnight when they kick everyone out.
Finding a spot in the middle of the crowd, Izzy lets go of my hand and starts to twirl. The band puts their own remix on popular songs, making them even more danceable.
Soaking in the mood around me, I drop my reservations, put my hands in the air, and dance like a loon.
