None of the surroundings compared to Norah.
He’d seen her earlier, sure. They’d had a whole thirty-second conversation that had winded him like a blow to the ribs. Then he’d foolishly sat behind her during the ceremony. Still, nothing prepared him for watching her move across that barn with therest of the guests—her midnight-blue dress catching the lights, her hair falling in soft waves that brushed her shoulders, her posture straight and controlled but her eyes full of something aching and unguarded when she didn’t know he was looking.
He stood near the entrance longer than necessary, letting the crowd flow around him, anchoring himself before he did something stupid. Like reach for her. Or say something he couldn’t take back.
James—blissfully newly married, flushed from the ceremony and riding an emotional high—clapped a hand on Marshall’s shoulder hard enough to jolt him.
“There you are,” James said, grinning like the world was perfect tonight. “Thought you might’ve disappeared on us. I’m really glad you came, man. So is Julie.”
Marshall gave him a dry look, brushing off the words that bordered on sentimental. “Shouldn’t you be...I don’t know, with your wife?” He genuinely liked James. He’d been skeptical when the recently divorced guy he’d played football with for three years had started hanging around his little sister. But Julie was clearly head over heels, and James did seem to have grown up.
James snorted. “She’s with your mom fixing her bustle. Whatever that means. I’ve got about two minutes and I’m using it to drag your brooding self inside.”
Marshall grunted. “I’m fine.”
“That’s why you’re standing here like a bouncer at a honky-tonk.” James squinted at him, eyes sharpening in that way only someone who’d known him since they’d eaten glue in kindergarten could manage. “You saw her.”
Marshall didn’t answer.
He didn’t have to.
James let out a low whistle. “Yeah. You saw her.”
Marshall’s glare could’ve dented sheet metal.
James lifted both hands in surrender. “Message received. I’ll back off.” A beat. Then, softer, “But...Norah does look good, man.”
Marshall’s jaw flexed hard enough to crack. “Not your business.”
“Wasn’t trying to make it mine,” James said, gentle now. “Just didn’t want you standing out here until the cake melts. Your mom saved you a seat at the family table.”
Great.
He followed James inside, scanning automatically—old habit, muscle memory. Even here, even at a wedding in the safest town he’d ever known, he couldn’t turn it off. His gaze swept the exits, the crowd, the catering staff, the side door leading out to the open field behind the barn.
Like they couldn’t help it, his eyes found her again. The way a compass finds north. A metal to a magnet. He was caught in her orbit, and he hated how effortless it was.
At a table near the head of the room, laughing at something her cousin said, head tipped back, hand at her throat. And for one disorienting moment, every memory he’d shoved into cold storage lit up—bonfires after football games, the night they’d danced barefoot on her parents’ lawn, her whispered prayers before he shipped out, her choked back tears when she told him to leave for the last time.
His chest tightened.
He tore his eyes away and headed for the drink station. Coffee. Water. Anything that wasn’t alcohol, because if he drank right now, he’d either confess every stupid feeling he’d buried or punch a wall. Neither would help.
He was halfway to the table when she saw him.
Norah’s smile faltered. Not gone—just softened into something cautious. Intimate. Her eyes held his a second too long, like she wasn’t sure if she should wave or run.
He swallowed hard and lifted a hand in acknowledgment. It cost him more effort than he wanted to admit.
His mother materialized at his elbow. “Marshall, honey, you sit with us.” She didn’t ask. She grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the family table, ignoring his subtle attempts to resist.
He shot Norah an apologetic look. When their eyes met again, he caught the faintest spark of humor. A shared history. A shared suffering at the hands of well-meaning mothers.
He took his seat next to Jackson, and endured teasing from his own parents. He kept his eyes off Norah as the newlyweds made their grand entrance. But he felt her. Like gravity.
“Thought you were still in Geneva,” Marshall murmured.
Jackson huffed a tired laugh. “I am. Or I was. Time zones are a social construct at this point. I’m headed back tomorrow.”
