“Emily Paige Bowen-Quartermaine,” Elizabeth began, “if you think I am sitting on the chair and letting Jason feel me up in front of a hundred people—”
“Wait, what?” Jason interrupted. “Em—”
“Relax.” Emily waved a dismissive hand. “I have the sense God gave a mule—”
“I’ve seen no indication of this—” Elizabeth shot back.
“I have decided to alter that particular tradition,” Emily sniffed. “Instead, I just ask that you join the rest of the world on the dance floor for one dance.”
“Em, can we talk for minute—”
Emily cut her off with another wave of the hand. “Listen, I’ve decided to bow out of my position as opportunity creator for you guys since you don’t need me—”
“Opportunity creator?” Jason repeated at the same time.
But Emily ignored them both. “You don’t need to thank me, just…enjoy what I’ve given you.” She flashed a smile. “Now, it’s my wedding day, I’m the bride, and you do what I say. Dance.” She took the garter and bouquet from them. “I’ll make sure you get these back, but—”
Elizabeth narrowed her eyes, but rather than give into the desire to poke her best friend, she merely sniffed and turned to Jason. “If she’s really going to retire from constantly butting in—”
“—then we might as well do this.”
Jason sighed and looked at his sister. “Emily.”
She stared at him, blandly. “It’s my wedding day,” she repeated. She pointed at herself. “Bride.”
He held out a hand to Elizabeth. “She’s right.”