"It's...complicated," I mutter, then nod toward the ground. No point in lying now. "For three years, but then I went back to the?—"
"Two years and seven months." Charlotte cuts me off with an icy glare.
"Almost threeyears?" Clara’s jaw hangs ajar. She blinks for the fifth time standing in silence, seemingly connecting the dots. “Un-fucking-believable. Some best friends I have. Always leaving me out when I'm the one bending over backward for you.”
"With you being a reporter, we couldn't risk people knowing." I blurt, then wince at my word choice.
“What are you trying to say?” she glances from me to Charlotte. Herwowis silent, but not its impact. “Why would I—” She retreats and pauses. “Never mind. I'm leaving. Someone has to finish the rehearsal plans.”
Only when she halts and turns do I see the hurt in those emerald eyes. The fire fades as she faces us with a trembling chin. “I’m tired of being taken for granted. After the wedding, I’m done.” She stares at the ground for what feels like forever. “With both of you. See you at the rehearsal.”
“Clara, wait." We plead simultaneously, but the damage is done. She's gone in the blink of an eye.
Charlotte flashes me a look of disbelief, then shakes her head. “Lovely. Just lovely.”
Without another word, she walks away, leaving me alone with the wind knocked out of me.
The corners of my mouth turn down and my shoulders droop. Fuck. Once the people who loved me more than I could imagine get in their cars and drive away, I hunch over, grabbing my sides. The lump in my throat is back. My thoughts are scrambling. Which fire to extinguish first? I close my eyes, barely able to fight the tears threatening to fall. It's true, all I do is hurt people. When I dip my head, the dam breaks, and each tear falls onto my shirt, darkening the tan fabric. None of this was supposed to happen. How can I fix it? Or is this what I deserve, what the vaunted Sniper Kez deserves?
Somehow, I survive to the end of the rehearsal dinner. I'm not in the wedding, but months ago, Clara talked me into attending the rehearsal ceremony. She even made me promise, and despite our current issues, I keep my word. Not that my presence matters. Clara’s too busy avoiding me and catching up on the latest political gossip.
Suddenly, forty-five glasses rise into the air, followed by echoes of clinking sounds that make my eye twitch. They look genuinely happy. Eli and Charlotte. The thought stings, yet I’m grateful to see that beautiful smile again, even if it isn't for me. I watch them kiss for the sixth time, then decide I’ve had enough and make my way to the coat closet.
As I reach for my motorcycle helmet, the scent of jasmine and amber fills my nostrils as someone approaches from behind. A soft, but firm hand grips my elbow and leads me down the hallway. The sounds of people’s chatter fade into the distance. We turn a corner and Charlotte halts, facing me in the dimly lit stairwell, her expression unreadable. Her captivating perfume is as familiar as it is new.
"Why didn't you respond to my messages?" she demands.
I fold my arms over my chest and look at the ceiling. "You know why. I didn't want you exposed to that side of me. Sniper Kez. You didn't deserve that."
"That wasn't your decision to make." She steadies her ragged breathing and pulls me to sit on the steps with her. "Do you have any idea how worried I was? After months, I figured you didn't love me anymore. Or were dead."
I glance at the sizable diamond ring on her finger. Eli must make good money. "I just wanted you to be happy. I'm sorry."
"Iwashappy,” she retorts. “We would've worked through the distance."
A group of men’s laughter breaks the silence between us. I swallow. "I thought you'd prefer a private wedding, somewhere warm and quiet. You don't even like the city, or groups of people, let alone over three hundred."
Her chuckle lightens the mood slightly. "That's life when you're a politician's daughter. Nothing is what it seems."
That wasn't entirely true. My jaw tightens and my eyes find hers. "I can tell you love him. You look happy."
"Eli is an incredible person and, yes, I love him." Another long silence passes. She clears her throat. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. Dating you wasn't a mistake. When I saw you at the beach, I didn't know whether to kiss you until I couldn't breathe or punch your lights out."
"I thought we'd never touch again, so I'll take both." A slight smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. It’s enough to make her laugh.
She inches closer. I shift my entire body until we face each other. I speak the raw truth. "It's always been you. You taught me not only how to love someone else, but how to love myself. I adore all of you. Your kind heart. Your independence, warmth,sass. I can't imagine my life without you in it. Please don’t make me let you go. Do I have to? I will if you truly want me to."
More silence. Instead of answering my question, her fingers tenderly caress my arm, and she gazes into my soul. "You came back to me," she whispers, carefully assessing me.
Butterflies erupt in my stomach as she inspects every inch of my face, as if to ensure no harm had come to me. Using gentle strokes, she brushes my cheek, causing heat to rise, then combs her fingers through the coils of my hair. Her touch instantly relaxes every fiber of my body. "I like it short," she murmurs.
"I thought you would." I melt into her embrace, recalling our last moment in the airport. She’s the softest thing I've felt in almost two years. "I promised I'd come back to you."
"You're okay?" Charlotte asks gently.
With a weak smile, I nod. "No scratches." I know she isn't talking about only my physical body. She knows me too well, knows the pain that sometimes keeps me up at night. I cover her hand with mine. "A promise is a promise."
She thumbs my necklace, the custom dog tags she gave me before leaving. "You still have these?"
