When I look at her . . . she feels like mine.
I nod, slowly, as I watch the flakes accumulating on her hair, making her even more stunning. “I’ve made mistakes.” I step closer, closing the space between us, and stare into her fieryeyes. “I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. The truth is that I suffer from anxiety, and I was having an attack. If I had been thinking clear, I would have never let you leave. I'm sorry too.” Her eyes grow even warmer, not for a second losing that fiery spark. I could go on and on to further explain about my anxiety attack, but words don’t sound that appealing to me.
I have a better idea.
One to get us back together faster.
I drop my hand to her waist, pulling her to me, and lower my face until our lips crash together. Hungrily, she kisses me back. Adrenaline floods my veins, fueling a direct shot to my heart.
Epilogue
About a month later . . .
The servers pass out the last of the cheesecake, and saliva pools in the center of my mouth when I finally get my slice. Strawberry mounds with berry sauce drip all over the cake. It’s the most delicious thing I’ve seen in a long time, and right as I ready my fork to stab it, Noah cuts my concentration. “Easy there.”
I flick my gaze to him and speak through gritted teeth. “Nothing like being the last ones served dessert at a dinner party of five hundred. I thought I was going to pass out watching all these calorie-counting Karens take one measly bite of their slice and push it aside all while I had no cake.”
“I noticed that too.” Noah nods to the table directly across from us, where every piece was left untouched. “Look at that offense.”
“Twelve pieces discarded like trash,” I seethe. I can’t even look at it, as it almost brings a tear to my eye. I cut my focus back to my delible slice, and Noah elbows me.
“Sophie’s coming.” He stands, pulling my chair out for me, and I shoot one more look of longing at my cake before I rise. Sophie glides forward as she reaches her arms out. “Thank you so much for coming, guys.”
“Congratulations.” I lean in for a hug. Sophie is one of the most beautiful brides I’ve ever seen with her princess ballgown and traditional veil. You’d think for a celebrity, she’d have selected some New York hotel or tropical destination wedding. When it came down to her special day—friends and family were the biggest pull, and she brought the reception right here to Mapleton. It’s the first chance I’ve gotten to talk to her, as she’s been constantly swarmed with everyone. “I’ve never seen a more stunning venue.”
“I always pictured myself having a movie-perfect New England wedding,” she confesses, her eyes sparkling as she admires the old manor courtyard decorated in ivy and magnolias. “I wanted the burgundy wines, the satin gowns, the whole black-tie to-do. Something that’s timeless and would inspire me every time I look at my photos.”
“I definitely think you nailed the venue.” My gaze follows the trail her own gaze sets, as the hundreds of tea lights seem to shine so much brighter when they are set against a French Country tablecloth under the tents.
“I’m so glad you both made it.” Her gaze lifts to Noah, bringing him into the conversation.
“We wouldn’t dream of missing it.” Noah leans in for a quick hug, adding, “Congratulations.” He looks good in a tux, and seeing him in this wedding backdrop does not help my overreactive imagination from thinking that maybe, someday, we’d be here, too.
The live band switches their song, bringing the tempo down, and the couples respond by flocking to the dance floor. Sophie’s gaze sweeps back over the dance floor, and a regretful smile tugson her lips. “Sorry, but I’m going to have to excuse myself to find my groom. This is one of my favorite songs to dance to.”
“No apologies.” I wave her off, and I smile as she weaves her way back through the crowd, her dress glittering under the muted lighting.
Noah extends his hand in offering. “Shall we?”
“Oh, I don’t dance.” My head springs back, my eyes rounding in alarm.
A chuckle leaks from his mouth. “Is this about the mosh pit?”
“No.” I shake my head adamantly. “It has nothing to do with that, although that certainly didn’t help.”
“Come on.” His genuine smile finds me, the one that makes the lines by his eyes crease, and he extends his hand out further. “One dance.”
I give him a side-eye, and if he didn’t look so handsome, I would have an easier time saying no, but I don’t dance. Plus, crowds are not my thing. Not to mention my cheesecake is on the table, calling my name. I can’t help but stare at it.
There’s so much empathy spiraling out of his eyes. “You don’t want to leave your cake, do you?”
“No.” I gesture toward it. “What if the busboy thinks I’ve discarded it and takes it?”
“I feel that so much in my soul.” There’s an air of teasing in his tone when he nods toward the table. “Let’s do this properly then. First, you eat the cake, and then we dance to the next song.”
It’s silly, but a wave of relief washes over me. I plop back down on my chair, taking my napkin into my lap, but he just sits there, his cake untouched. “Are you going to eat that?”
His gaze drops to his cake, then bounces to me. “I was going to save it for you.”
