My chest clenched then because there it was—an opening, my chance to finally have a taste of this man.
I opened up to him as well about the frustration of being the only one in the Morgan family who, for the past few years, has watched everyone else find their forever while remaining single.
He patted my hand like I was a delicate animal and said, “Your forever person will find you, Shiloh. You just have to be patient.”
I have been patient, dammit. I’m twenty-six years old, for crying out loud, have been single for most of my life. I’ve watched three of my brothers get married when I couldn’t even get a date to their special day.
After the dance, we ended up drifting towards the back, where the offices are. I didn’t think we’d go further than a hand squeeze in the dark. But then his fingers brushed my cheek, and it felt like permission.
The rest is history.
Now, in the hollow aftermath, I smooth my palms over the fabric of my pants as if it’s some ritual that will stitch things back to normalcy.
Cole moves as if to say something but is interrupted by his daughter calling out to him from the dance floor.
“Daddy! Over here!” Aria waves, her pink dress swirling with the lights.
“Coming, princess,” he waves back with a smile, then turns to me. “Daddy duty calls. Let’s talk later,” he whispers low, his lips brushing against my ear, making my body shiver.
He then moves past me, finds Aria, and sweeps her into his arms for a dance.
Deep down, I know that later will never come. And it fills me with sadness.
With him gone, guilt prickles sharp and fast. This is my brothers’ wedding night, for heaven’s sake. I’m supposed to be the baby sister who laughs, dances, and cheers. Instead, I’m a woman who’s been unstitched and reassembled in an office two doors down.
A hand grips my elbow, pulling me from my reverie. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking all over for you.”
I turn, and there’s Ava, my sister-in-law, best friend, and emotional compass since we both had two front teeth missing. She’s holding two champagne flutes, her sequined dress hugging her figure perfectly, long dark hair framing her gorgeous face. Ava is my best friend, but she’s also married to my other brother, our firstborn Zane, and they have the cutest eight-month-old daughter together.
I always tell Ava everything, but I find myself holding back about what Cole and I just did. “Sorry, I needed some air.”
She narrows her eyes at me, passing me one of the glasses. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
I take a sip and nod. “Yes, I was just regrouping.”
“Regrouping from love and happiness? How tragic,” she mocks.
I laugh, rolling my eyes. “You’re insufferable.”
Just then, the band completes the set they were playing, and everyone erupts in applause. I clap too, but my throat is tight. It’s not sadness. Not exactly. It’s something softer, quieter—that ache you get when you realize you’re the only one left standing on the edge of something beautiful.
Everywhere I turn, someone is holding someone. Couples fill the hall, arms draped over shoulders, fingers intertwined, heads resting on shoulders.
With Jace and Beck now married, it makes three Morgans down, two to go. More like one. Ryder doesn’t count; he’ll die a monk, secluded alone on his mountain. Which leaves poor ol’ me, the only single, lonely one left.
I don’t begrudge my brothers. God, no. They deserve every ounce of this happiness. And I love being the fun one, the one who keeps spirits high, the one everyone jokes with. But lately, that persona feels like a mask I never take off.
Because deep down, in a place I don’t talk about, I want this too.
I want someone who looks at me the way Beck looks at Quinn. The way Jace looks at Tessa. Like they’ve found their beginning and their ending all wrapped up in one person.
Those thoughts are the exact ones that had me falling into Cole’s arms in the first place.
Only he’s married and has a nine-year-old daughter, which makes him unavailable. The only thing that makes what we justdid okay is that he’s getting divorced; otherwise, I wouldn’t have dreamt of going within a mile of him.
Beck calls for a toast, dragging me to the present once more.
People raise glasses, and when it’s my turn, I put on my best smile. “To my favorite idiots,” I shout over the noise. “Thank God you’re no longer my problem to deal with! Ladies, it’s too late to run now—you already said I do.”
