19. Claire

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Claire

Drew reaches back for me, pulling me into his side while he steps in front of Becca. Up until now, the wedding had been amazing—even with her dramatic entrance. Most people around us look stunned by my response, but I expected this. I was mentally prepared. I'm just so over Becca. Honestly, if his mother had shown up, I probably would've slapped her too.

While I'm mid-thought, Joy walks up—not to me, but right past me—and slaps Becca. Hard.

"You can charge me too," she says, unfazed. "I've been dying to do that. And since Claire shouldn't be spending her wedding night in jail alone, I figured I might as well get it out of the way."

Then she turns to me. "I get the top bunk though. Something about being that close to the floor in jail just gives me the ick." She shudders.

Drew shakes his head and says, "Neither of you will be sleeping in jail tonight. It's my wedding night—and I'll be holding my wife."

He shoots Becca a glare. "I'll be consummating this marriage tonight."

That's when Jared strolls up toward Becca, clearly ready to get in on the action—but I stop him with a look.

"Really, Jared?" I ask.

He smirks. "What? I wasn't going to hit her. I just wanted to know what it feels like to walk up and imagine it." Then he turns to Becca. "Becca, do you need to get laid? Is that what this is really about? Look, I've stuck my dick in some very questionable places, so I think you and I could work something out."

At that, no one can hold back their laughter. Becca's face turns beet red as she practically spits her words.

"Jared, I'd rather screw a 98-year-old man with fungus growing on his dick than go anywhere near you and your micro friend."

"Gross, Becca," Jared says. "Well, the rate you're going, you might just get your wish. And I don't know Claire biblically, but I don't think Drew's switching teams anytime soon."

Becca huffs. "Switching teams? You do realize I'm a woman, right?"

Jared gasps, dramatic as ever. "Oh really? Damn. My bad. I thought—"

"Ugh, shut up, Jared!" she snaps, spinning back to Drew. "Drewy, are you going to let him talk to me like that?"

Drew sighs and says flatly, "Jared, enough." Then, to Becca, "You need to leave. Now. You've done enough."

As if on cue, flashing lights flicker at the edge of the lawn. Two officers appear, walking slowly toward the reception. Drew wraps both arms around me and kisses the top of my head.

"It's going to be okay, babe. I'll handle this."

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Becca's waterworks start instantly. Man, is she good at that.

"Officers, I want both of those women arrested for battery! Look at my face—they slapped me, and I haven't even defended myself!"

One of the officers turns to Joy and me. "Ladies, is this true? Did you hit her?"

Before I can speak, Drew steps forward.

"Officer... Smith?" he squints at the badge. "Becca wasn't invited. She showed up unannounced, and my wife felt threatened on her own property. Doesn't that fall under castle doctrine? Or stand your ground?"

Becca rolls her eyes. "Oh, come on, Drew. I've been to this house a thousand times. I don't need a damn invitation."

The officer exchanges a glance with his partner. "Actually, ma'am, you do. No matter how many times you've been here before, this is still private property."

Flustered, Becca blurts out, "Well—his mother invited me. I'm her plus one!"

"And where is his mother now?" the officer asks.

"She's not here yet, but—"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Becca shoots Drew a desperate look, but speaks to the officer. "I'll go... if he comes with me."

The officers glance at each other again. One of them squints at Becca. "Ma'am... why are you in a wedding dress?"

The whole reception goes dead silent.

Then—beep. The sound of a phone camera starting to record. All eyes turn to Jared, who's pointing his phone at Becca and the police.

"Sorry," he says. "Thought the sound was off. I just want to keep this moment, y'know? If my life ever hits rock bottom, I can rewatch this and remind myself—it could always be worse. Right, Becca

Becca ignores him and stares at Drew. "I'm here for my wedding, obviously. My fiancé is just confused right now."

She takes a slow, trembling step toward him. "Drewy, baby, we're meant to be together. You promised. If you give your mother just ten more minutes, she'll show you why you can't marry Claire. It's me. I'm your ending."

I wince as a sharp cramp hits low in my stomach. My legs ache from standing too long, and the nausea is creeping back. I press a hand to my belly, trying to ease the discomfort. Drew catches it instantly.

"What's wrong, C?" he asks, his tone urgent. He places a hand over mine. "Is it the baby? Do we need to go to the hospital?"

I shake my head slowly. "I think I'm okay. It's been a long day. I just need to sit and drink some water."

Becca groans. "Oh, please, Claire. Would you stop faking it? Drewy, just walk me to my car. I'm cold and honestly, this can't be good for the baby. Walk me to my car, and I'll drop the charges."

Officer Smith steps into her path before she can move. "Ma'am, I'm afraid I'll need you to come with us."

His partner speaks into his radio. "Dispatch, we've got a 10-73."

What the hell is a 10-73?

Becca whirls around, alarmed. "What is the meaning of this?! I was attacked! I want to press charges!"

From the back of the room, Jared shouts, "Ohhh shit, I knew she was crazy. Grab me an extra pair of grippy socks while you're in there!"

The officers close in, but Drew steps forward.

"Is this really necessary? I'll walk her to her car and end this peacefully."

I sit down in a nearby chair, shaking my head. Of course. He always tries to save Becca. The officers clearly know who the St. Claires are. If Drew says she doesn't go, then she doesn't go.

Officer Smith eyes me, then Drew. "If you're sure, Mr. St. Claire?"

Drew turns to Becca. "I'll walk you to your car. But after that—you're gone. And don't come back."

The officers check on me once more. I shake my head, too drained to speak.

Drew kneels in front of me. "Are you okay, babe? I'm just going to walk her out, then we can dance the night away."

I look him square in the eyes. "Drew, you don't need to walk her anywhere. She walked herself in—she can walk herself out. This is our wedding. Spending even a minute alone with her today is not okay. I won't allow it."

His eyes widen, surprised. "You won't allow it? What's that supposed to mean? Claire, it's five minutes. It's less drama this way. If I'm not back in five... you can punish me for the rest of our lives."

He walks off toward Becca.

She glances over her shoulder at me—and smirks.