“Sorry,” he muttered, quickening his steps.
He slid into the chair beside me. One breath of his cologne, one glance at his face, and everything came back—every kiss, every whispered promise, every dream weonce shared.
In that flicker of eye contact, I knew distance meant nothing. We would always belong to each other. I would always love him.
I wanted to scream. Kick something. Rail against how absurd, how unfair it all was.
“Hola, peque,” he whispered, dark eyes soft.
“Hi, Ash.”
The officiant droned on. Dad and Sharon beamed at each other, lost in their shiny little bubble. Nothing new.
I stared at my lap, biting my trembling lip. When would this end?
“Peque,” Asher whispered. “Are you okay?”
The word cut deeper than a slap.
I nodded.
He wrapped his palm over mine. Warm. Familiar.
I missed his hands. Missed him. All the goodbyes, the brave faces, theit’s for the bettersvanished, leaving only his touch and the weight of everything I felt.
Then the guests erupted in cheers.
He let go, retreating behind a wall. He wasn’t my Ash anymore.
Now he was my stepbrother.
I rose and joined my father. He hugged me for show; so did Sharon. They paraded down the aisle hand in hand, rose petals raining over them.
One by one, guests slipped out toward the reception tent.
Asher and I lingered, in no rush to follow.
I wanted to ask him a hundred things, but the words jammed in my throat.
“Guess we’re family now,” I blurted instead.
He scoffed and rubbed the back of his neck, uneasy, frustrated—or both.
“How’s your injury?” I asked.
“Healed. How’s your school?”
“Good. No more struggles with math.” He probably didn’t care, but I still wanted him to be proud.
“It doesn’t surprise me,” he said. “You’re the smartest girl I know.”
I didn’t tell him about the gap year. Dad had hated it, but I’d insisted—no wedding attendance unless he let me volunteer withAlba. My SAT scores helped. So did the fact that distance would make Sharon’s life easier.
“Do you have a team?” I asked as we stepped outside. The sky cracked open, drizzle cooling my flushed cheeks.
“I’m going to Spain.”
My heart squeezed. I’d been right. He was leaving. This might be the last time I saw him.
