Page 45 of The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy

Jamie

“I told you, I don’t drive!” Edgar said, as he swerved and barely missed hitting a parked car.

Edgar, dressed to the nines, had agreed to lift his moratorium on driving this once so he could pick Jamie up from work and speed them to the art museum while they changed their clothes.

“Yeah, but,” Jamie said from the back seat, where they were wriggling into their pants, which looked amazing but were inconveniently snug for changing in a car, “I assumed that was in case a ghost startled you, not that you were a menace more generally.”

“I’m sorry. I’m nervous!” He blew out a breath for the dozenth time since he’d picked Jamie up and shook out his hands.

“Listen,” Jamie said. They reached around the armrest and squeezed Edgar’s shoulder. “I wish I could say they’re gonna love you or not to worry about it, but the truth is they’re assholes, so just…try not to take anything they say or do personally. Okay? And I’m sorry in advance.”

Edgar snorted as if that were inconceivable, and Jamie crossed their fingers that their family was on their best behavior. Or at least so preoccupied with the rehearsal that they didn’t pay any attention to either of them.

Edgar screeched into a parking spot, tires spraying gravel into the lush grass.

“Jesus, remind me to procure a Dramamine from Great-Aunt Marge in case you have to drive home.”

Jamie extracted themself from the back seat and opened the driver’s side door for Edgar.

He looked amazing. Jamie hadn’t had a chance to fully appreciate him while they were running toward the truck trying to shave precious seconds off their commute.

But now? He was clean-shaven and his brown hair curled over his forehead, grown out enough since Jamie had first met him that they could now twine it through their fingers when they were watching movies together and wrap it in their fist when he begged them to.

He wore a navy linen suit that Jamie had never seen before, and he smelled like a dream.

“You look incredible,” Jamie said, palm to his lapel. “Damn.”

Edgar ducked his head and smiled. “I wanted to look nice for you.”

Jamie kissed him, loving the crush of Edgar’s sweet lips beneath theirs.

Inside, they were directed to the rehearsal hall, and Jamie patted their pockets and collar to make sure everything was in place, took a deep breath, and held their hand out to Edgar.

When the doors opened, all eyes snapped to Jamie and Edgar.

Their parents made a beeline from one end of the room, and Emma did the same from the other.

So much for everyone being too preoccupied with wedding plans to notice them.

“ There you are,” Jamie’s mom said.

Jamie had checked their watch a minute ago and knew they weren’t late.

“Mom, this is my boyfriend, Edgar. Edgar Lovejoy, I’d like to introduce you to my mother, Blythe Wendon.”

“So nice to meet you,” Edgar said and held out his hand.

“Lovely to meet you,” Blythe said, giving Edgar a hawkish once-over. “My husband, Hank Dale.”

His parents had a whole bit they did whenever they met anyone new, and Jamie tracked Emma’s approach while the familiar script played out. She looked happy, if a little stressed. Her betrothed stood with a group of guys who looked just as beefy and privileged as he did.

“You’re here,” Emma said as she reached them. She sounded relieved, like maybe she thought they weren’t going to show up.

“This is Edgar,” Jamie said, taking his hand. “Edgar, this is my sister, Emma.”

“Congratulations, Emma,” Edgar said. “Thank you so much for including me.”

Did Edgar google how to greet your significant other’s sibling at her wedding?

Fuck, he’s so cute .

Emma smiled and shot Jamie a look that seemed to say, Surprisingly good choice . Jamie raised an eyebrow to say, I know .

“I could have used you here an hour ago,” Jamie’s mother said resignedly. “We need to practice everyone walking down the aisle.”

Jamie swallowed down everything they wanted to say, plastered a smile on their face, and squeezed Edgar’s hand. Edgar squeezed back.

“No problem,” Jamie bit out. “Will you be okay hanging out here for a bit?” they asked Edgar.

“Yeah.” He slid an envelope from his jacket pocket and took out some crossword puzzles and a pencil. “Cameron’s grandma hooked me up.”

Jamie grinned. They were thrilled that Edgar and Poe were reconnecting with their childhood friend now that she was back in town for the near future. Talking about Antoine with Cameron was healing for them all.

The second they were out of earshot, Emma slid her arm through Jamie’s.

“He’s attractive,” she said accusingly.

“I agree,” Jamie said happily.

“The bathrooms are that way,” Blythe interrupted. “If you need to change.”

Jamie forced themself not to react. “This is what I’m wearing, Mom. Let’s go ahead and rehearse.” They walked toward the front of the room where Dave and the rest of the people were standing.

“Hey, Dave,” Jamie said, giving their future brother-in-law the half wave, half salute that they had never used with another living soul but that burst from them any time they greeted Dave.

“Jamie, my dude!” Dave called and returned the gesture. That was a pleasant surprise.

“God, he’s already drunk. Ignore him,” Emma said.

Someone corralled them into their places, and they practiced walking down the aisle.

“Just promise me you’ll be here on time and dressed appropriately on Saturday,” Blythe said when Jamie sank into the chair next to her.

“No one said anything about a dress code for the rehearsal,” Jamie hissed. “I’m wearing a suit. I’m wearing dress boots. What is not appropriate about this?”

Blythe tsk ed, as if she couldn’t possibly enumerate all the transgressions.

“And I wasn’t late,” Jamie muttered. “I was right on time. I made sure.”

“Fine, just be here by two at the absolute latest,” she warned.

But that wasn’t what Emma had told him all those months ago. Emma said to be there an hour before. The wedding was at six.

“I thought I had to be here at five,” Jamie said.

Blythe’s eyes flashed with barely concealed fury, and she grabbed Jamie’s arm and marched them into the hallway.

It had always made Jamie feel like they were in trouble.

In fact, Jamie had spent the first twenty years of their life feeling like they were in trouble all the time.

Now though, Jamie realized their mom couldn’t pilot them the way she once had.

She was counting on Jamie to help her make them feel like shit.

So they stopped.

Blythe had always been a few inches taller than Jamie, but now they were the same height.

“What’s going on, Mom?”

“This is your sister’s wedding,” Blythe said.

Jamie waited for the rest of the sentence, but nothing seemed to be forthcoming. “Yup.”

“So you will be here at two on Saturday, dressed appropriately and ready to help out.”

“Mom. I usually work from ten to ten on Saturdays in the fall, since I, you know , create a haunted house. I got off at four thirty by promising my boss I’d work three extra shifts at no overtime pay.

So I’m really sorry that you’re disappointed, but I can’t be here until five.

That’s the time Emma told me, so that’s the time I have. ”

Rage flickered in their mother’s eyes and was quickly controlled. “I would think you’d care a bit more about your sister’s big day,” she sniffed.

“Yeah?” Jamie finally snapped. “I probably care about as much as you cared about me when you thought you’d have a dress made for me in secret in case you were able to guilt me into wearing it instead of something I’d feel good in.”

Blythe opened her mouth, but Jamie barreled on.

“I probably care approximately the same amount as you cared about my presence or my life when you scheduled this wedding right after the one month out of the year that I work Saturdays.” Jamie drew in a ragged breath. “So yeah. Looks like I don’t care either.”

Their mother’s nostrils flared, and her lips pursed as she arranged her face into rigid neutrality. If they hadn’t been in public, Blythe would’ve ended Jamie. They turned around to head back inside.

Emma was standing between them and the door. Her face said she’d heard everything.

“Shit, Emma, I didn’t mean—”

“Whatever,” she said patting her hair. “Just, can y’all come back in? It’s time for dinner.”

***

Dinner was at a single long table with Emma and Dave at the head. The wine flowed freely, and several of Dave’s friends made speeches, as did Emma’s real maid of honor.

“Sister of the bride!” someone called, and everyone else raised a cheer.

Jamie’s stomach tightened, and they ignored the cheer, turning to Edgar instead.

No one had mentioned anything about preparing a speech.

But their parents were both glaring pointedly at them.

Jamie swallowed the anger and awkwardness down and did what they always did at family gatherings: they acted like a good sport so they wouldn’t make anyone uncomfortable.

“Oh, me?” they said, rising and accepting the microphone.

They straightened their tie and gulped champagne. Emma’s tight smile pleaded with them not to embarrass her. It must be really stressful to need people’s approval this much , thought the part of Jamie that would once have needed to say, I’m not her fucking sister .

“My sister, Emma, has always known what she wants,” Jamie said instead. “I admire that about her.”

Emma’s smile turned more genuine. Their parents’ faces relaxed into pleasant masks.

“When we were kids, she had a crush on this boy, Nathan Jones. She said she loved him and was going to marry him.”

People chuckled, and Emma, relaxed now, made obliging aw shucks gestures.

“I asked Emma how you knew you were in love, and she said that it was when you couldn’t stop thinking about someone, when you wanted to be around them all the time. What was the third part, Em?” Jamie vamped. “Oh yeah, when you want to smell their hair.”

Emma’s bridesmaids laughed, and Emma rolled her eyes congenially.