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June hates weddings.
She’s spent years cultivating a perfectly professional persona. She’s empathetic yet efficient, warm yet firm. There’s no room for tears when you’re writing speeches for America’s most influential politicians.
But weddings always seem to make her cry. Dammit.
They’re about an hour into the reception now, with people casting aside their dinner plates––burgers, because Alex is a barbarian and Henry must be sickeningly in love to allow it. A few people have made speeches, including the parents of the two grooms. Bea is currently wrapping up her remarks.
“Congratulations, Alex and Henry.” The princess beams at the room of close family and friends. It is, however, by no means a small group––June’s idiot brother and his royal husband are friends with too many people. It was hell to organize the seating arrangements.
“You’ve been through so much together,” she continues, “and there’s only more to come. But I know the two of you will keep supporting each other along the course of a lovely, long life of marriage.”
June dutifully clinks her glass as Bea sits back down. She can see Alex looking up at his husband adoringly while Henry discreetly wipes his eyes. He’s not the only one––Bea’s speech drove almost every person in the room to tears.
She’s glad that Henry and Alex decided to have a second wedding. The royal one was great, obviously, but it was also overly formal and procedural, all pomp and circumstance and public image. The heartfelt speeches were terse, the vows genuine but cut short so as to stay on schedule. This second wedding is smaller––more intimate and private but far more meaningful, with time for people to express the love her brother’s wedding deserves.
She looks around the room, a spacious, wood-paneled hall in the heart of Austin draped with reds and blues. The colors kind of clash, but Alex insisted until June gave up on trying to help. Their parents and Leo are here, and Catherine, and Pez and Nora and Bea, and Amy and her wife, and Cash, along with other people from the campaign. Raf cried during the reception and headed straight to the open bar. Liam and Spencer flew in from California the day before. Zahra’s nursing an extremely strong drink. She tried to turn down the invitation, actually (“I’ve seen enough of their relationship to last several lifetimes,” she says), but Shaan forced her to come.
June is the last person speaking tonight, after speeches by her mother, her father, and Henry’s mother. There was also a standup comedy routine disguised as a toast by Liam (“‘Is this gay?’ asks Alex, like, five years after we hooked up,” he recalls as Alex hides his face in a napkin. “Nooooo, that was just a bromantic way to relieve stress. Nothing to think about there.”), a drunk impromptu speech-slash-slam-poetry by Nora and Pez (which was somehow extremely moving), and then Bea. The room is brimming with emotion, filling the space between each person like a sweet perfume.
Time to end that.
Pushing back her chair, June stands up and smiles graciously at everyone. Is she drunk? She’s definitely a little drunk. But she’s spent months planning this event and dealing with her brother’s… everything, so she’s entitled to celebrate. June takes a deep breath and begins.
“First of all, I’d like to thank everyone so much for being here to celebrate Alex and Henry’s marriage. Like Bea mentioned,” she says warmly, looking over to the newlyweds, “I have no doubt that you’ll both be supportive and kind to one another. Henry, you’re a wonderful and kind and selfless person, and I have the utmost confidence that you’re making the world a better place, day by day. Alex…
“You’re absolutely fucking stupid.”
The room breaks out in surprised laughter. Henry’s grinning so wide, it looks like his smile’s about to burst out of his face. Alex, on the other hand, sends June a look .
“No, seriously,” she continues. “If y’all think I’m up here to just insult Alex, you’re absolutely right. Because we’re about to go through a whole timeline of the pining disaster that is my little brother–”
“June–”
“And there’s a lot of material to cover.”
“If you think you’re funny–”
“If I may,” Henry cuts in smoothly, if a little loudly, “I think she’s hilarious. June, by all means.” He gestures to the rest of the room, exaggeratedly posh and grandiose. Alex pouts.
“Why thank you, kind sir.” She curtsies, stumbling a little. “See, these English royals are so well-spoken and polite. Bea,” she says, turning to her now sister-in-law, “your speech was just gorgeous. I can’t follow that with equally beautiful prose, so we’re doing this Claremont-Diaz style.”
She mimes tipping her hat toward her parents with feigned dignity, and her father echoes the action. Her mom rolls her eyes as if it’ll detract from the proud smile she wears.
“Alex and I were raised in a Texas household of politicians, and we learned how to speak from our parents and the epic battle-slash-bloodbath of American high school debate. In essence, what we both know best is how to insult people. As such, please allow me the next five minutes to do so. I promise I’ll make it worth your—Alex, where the hell did you get a pen?”
Alex has magically conjured a ballpoint pen and is scribbling on the back of his vows. “My pocket.” Of fucking course. June will always find men’s Pocket Privilege™ an absolute injustice. “I’m taking notes, Junebug, and I will squash you.”
“You can try,” she shoots back. “But I brought props.” She reaches under her chair and hides the targeted item behind her back with a practiced elegance—she won’t deny that she’s rehearsed this before. It has to go perfectly, no matter how inebriated she might be. “Let’s begin with something from before this charming couple even met. When Alex and I were younger, we had quite a few subscriptions to some teen magazines. Would anyone like to guess which issue he held onto for literal years?”
Alex’s eyes widen in horror. “No.”
June whips out the magazine from behind her back with a flourish.
“Henry,” she begins with a smirk, passing it down to him, “I don’t think I’ve ever shown you this, and it’s a damn shame because I know you’re going to get such a kick out of it. As a matter fact, would you mind reading that headline for me?”
Alex lunges for the magazine, but Henry deftly moves it out of the way before clearing his throat. “‘Ladies, Look Out: Henry the Heartthrob is Blowing Away the British.’ I actually remember giving this interview.”
“Give me that,” Alex hisses, making a desperate grab for the magazine, but Henry uses his extra several inches of height to dangle it out of his reach.
“As you just heard,” June says, accepting the magazine out of Henry’s hand and turning to the rest of the room. “Alex kept a magazine with a picture of Henry’s face on it for years. He stroked Magazine-Henry’s fake, photocopied hair. Actually, I had to sneak this out of his room last week––he still had it.”
The crowd erupts with laughter and whistles while Alex’s face turns progressively redder. “LOSER,” Nora shouts, and June raises her glass in her direction.
“Henry,” she starts up again as everyone begins to quiet again, “this is just one of the many, many embarrassing things that you will come to know about my brother. By the end of this speech, you might want a divorce. I’m not sure why you wanted to marry him in the first place, but I have my hunches. You know what they say: everything’s bi––”
“Catalina June Claremont-Díaz.”
“Don’t steal all of the fun, Alex,” she whines, sticking her bottom lip out in an exaggerated pout. “Baby brothers steal everything, you know. He stole my parents’ attention when he came out of the womb. He stole my eyeliner every weekend when he was thirteen, and––oh my God, Henry, I forgot to tell you about his emo phase. I would’ve brought some of the poetry, but I think he burned it all when he started high school.”
Alex looks mortified, pen rolling off the table and onto the floor. Twenty-five years too late, he’s learning the fundamental rule of life: you have no chance of arguing against your older sister.
June carries on, even more smug than when she started. “I haven’t even started talking about all of the conversations we’ve had after everything was resolved. At least once a week––and honestly, more like every day––I get texts from Alex about how lucky he is to have Henry.”
Everyone lets out a collective awwww, including Henry himself, much to Alex’s obvious chagrin. “I hate you,” he says.
She ignores him and continues with a smirk. “They’re very sweet. About how glad he is to have found someone who puts up with everything he does…”
Alex frantically waves his hand across his neck in a clear stop-yourself-right-the-hell-now gesture. June can see the fear in his eyes, but she’s not going to expose him that much. Some of the secrets they share are just that private, and spilling them would be a violation of the sibling code.
“...from always keeping his phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’ to ranting non-stop about sustainable farming practices in the Midwest to pouring in the milk before the cereal.” Behind her, someone gasps, scandalized. June turns to Henry with mock-graveness. “You, Henry George Edward James Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, are a strong person to be surviving all of this.”
“It’s a struggle, really,” Henry agrees mildly.
“Hey!” Alex protests.
“But even though I act exasperated or annoyed, I’m one hundred percent the proud older sister, thrilled to see my brother so unequivocally happy through the highs and lows of life.”
Alex visibly relaxes upon recognizing her return to normal speech-writing eloquence.
“Alex, I love you so much––you know that––and I don’t think I say it enough, but I am so proud of you. I’ve seen you grow so much as a person over the course of your entire life. I won’t pretend that it’s always been smooth sailing, but you’ve taken it like a champ every single day. You’re doing Texas proud, little brother.” She raises her glass, holding back a laugh. Yeeeeeeee-haw!”
Alex tries to hide his grin in his hand. “Shut up, we don’t even say that.”
“Uh, we do now,” she says. “Henry, incorporate the yee-haws and the y'alls into your vocabulary. You’re marrying into the Texas Dynasty now, or however it works. And because I couldn’t force you into a pair of assless chaps and make you ride in on a pony like a proper cowboy, we’ll have to complete your American hazing another way. So Henry, if you’ll do the honors?”
“Wait, did you plan something?” Alex demands. He turns to his husband. “Babe, what’s going on?”
Henry stands up and straightens his lapels as a giant cake is wheeled out.
Alex jumps to his feet. “Hold up—”
But Henry doesn’t, instead opting to tackle Alex into the cake.
June doesn’t bother to hold back her laughter, and neither does anyone else in the room. The newlyweds emerge from the carnage, Alex spluttering frosting as Henry wears a shitfaced grin next to him.
“I can’t believe you—”
Henry cuts him off with a kiss. “Believe it, darling,” he says with a wink. “Revenge is sweet.”
June couldn’t agree more.