I’m able to resume our exploration of the venue when Xander stops and puts his drink on the grass. When he stands upand stares, my eyebrow cocks up at him. One step forward and he’s officially entered my personal space. On instinct, I sling my arms over his shoulders and run my hands through the curls at the nape of his neck.
His hands gravitate to my arms, softly stroking them. I stare into his chest and I can see it rising and falling. My heartbeat joins in. Faster. Louder.
My gaze drifts up, grazing over his big hazel eyes. And his single curl that won’t be tamed. And he kisses me.
Delicately. Lovingly.
And despite my best efforts not to, I’m transported back in time. To our first kiss. Where he tastes like limes and a future filled with possibilities. Then, things turn desperate. And that hint of salt comes through with bite. It sends an electrical current along every single nerve in my body.
Until my parents flash before my eyes like a wet fucking blanket, killing the mood and reminding me why this doesn’t work. It never fucking does.
So I pull back.
“Come on,” I say, pulling Xander around the corner of the estate. And just like that the entire wedding disappears. It’s like we’ve stepped into someone’s private and very expensive backyard. There’s an entire decking situation with a lounge set that leads into the kitchen bustling with people. Oh, and there’s a freaking pool.
I walk up to an empty lounge chair and flop down, crossing my legs because this dress sits above the knee and therefore deep lounging is a high-risk flashing situation. I finish my drink and look out over the pool that’s so inviting in the heat. That’s drink two, down.
“When we met, you were studying chemistry. Why?” Xander says as he gracefully takes a seat next to me. Oh, so it wasn’tjust me that was transported back to our first kiss. Nostalgia is a hell of a drug.
“You know why. Chemistry is the coolest,” I say, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve had a couple of lessons now.”
Instead of chasing that innuendo down a path I don’t know I can come back from, especially being so secluded out here, he doubles down on the question. “Why did you want toteachit?”
This time every ounce of attention is on me. My skin prickles as his eyes focus only on me. I look down at my glass. The ice is drowning itself as it melts. I take a sip, hoping for a little more courage.
“So my students would always know they had at least one person who was betting on them,” I say, averting my gaze to the pool. “I know what it feels like when your parents are preoccupied with a different fight every night and all you want is help with your homework. All you need is someone who’s invested in you.” I get up and straighten out my dress, making sure it’s sitting exactly as it should. “Come on.”
“You constantly surprise me, Hutch,” he says.
“It’s the touch of salt that keeps things interesting,” I offer, trying to U-turn our way out of this serious conversation.
“Nah, it’s the little sweetness,” he says with full sincerity. Then he holds my gaze until he can see that I believe him.
I smile at him as he holds out his elbow for me to hook in. We slowly make our way back to the wedding. More people have arrived since our wander. I’m always baffled at how people can have hundreds of guests at their wedding. How do you even know this many people? If this was my wedding—hypothetically, I know I’m never getting married—our invitation list would be me, the groom, Em, and the parents. That’s it. Right now, with the amount of people milling around, I feel like I’m at a festival.
It all seems so unnecessary.
“How many people would you have at your wedding?” I ask. My eyes widen after the words are out. Now, I don’t date, but I sure as shit know you don’t go shooting your mouth off aboutmarriageat a fucking wedding.
“At least four times bigger than this,” he says, deadpan.
“As if. You’re getting married at city hall.” I poke my finger into his chest.
He immediately places his hand over mine, over his heart, and tilts his head to the side. “Oh yeah,” he says, teasing. “How do you know?”
“I know you,” I say because it’s the only thing I can say to win this argument. And yet, he positively beams.
And somehow, I know, he’s won.
“Congratulations, Dad,” I say as I go in for a hug, daughterly love on full display.
People are congregating haphazardly around the newlyweds, trying to find their time to jump in and congratulate them before they’re whisked off for professional photos, leaving us to our own devices with an open bar and waitstaff roaming around with trays of canapés.
“Thanks, kid,” my dad says, embracing me. There’s no denying it: Dad loves this woman. The poster boy for lying, cheating, and leaving isin love. I am utterly humiliated for him and his pathetic display as Keeley, my new stepmom, walked down the aisle. For shame.
I pull back, plastering a fake as fuck smile on my face and immediately feel Keeley staring at me.
“Ash, I’ve heard so much about you,” she says, reaching out and giving me a massive hug.Unlikely, I think.
