I mean, I wouldn’t keep him down there forever. Just until after the wedding would be nice.
“Look, Elijah—again—it’s my sister’s wedding. My whole family is in town. I’m struggling hard to be nice to you only because I don’t want to ruin this for her. If it were any other time and place, we wouldn’t be talking. And just because I haven’t slapped you for kissing me doesn’t mean I want to get back together.”
“I know.” His cocky smile softens into the one I love the most. It’s a secret smile. I used to think he saved it just for me. “But you let me get the flowers with you. Your family wasn’t around for that. It was just us. That has to mean something.”
“It means I didn’t have time for an argument, and you were the one with Garrison’s contact info in your phone. He doesn’t know me, and he probably wouldn’t have opened early for me.”
“Wow, you always did know how to make me feel special.” He chuckles, then dares to inch closer, brushing a petal off the counter right in front of me. “Come on. You don’t have to be sotough. Just admit it. You were crying last night before you called out to me. I know you. You are not a crier for no reason. You missed me a little.”
Exasperation seeps into my chest.
Of course I missed him, but I can’t admit that.
Not now.
I grab a spool of ribbon without looking up and shove it toward him. He startles back a step, which gives me a little extra space. “Here,” I say with force. “I missed having a tall person around to put this on the top shelf.”
“I’ll take it.” He snatches the ribbon, holding it close to his chest. “So you missed me a little, right?”
I grin despite myself. “I’m sorry, what were you expecting me to say? That I cry every day and wear your old hockey jersey to bed?”
“No.” His voice is so tender, it causes me to look up. “I don’t expect anything. But I was hoping you'd remember what it felt like when we were dreaming together.”
I hesitate. I don’t want to get into this now.
I can’t.
I’m literally out of time.
But he’s the one pushing this.
I gave him plenty of chances to back out. “You mean like when we promised to get married, and then you told the whole world that your only plan for 2025 was to play hockey. When the reporter asked if you were single, you conveniently forgot you were engaged?”
His eyes widen, lips parting. “Maybe I was just foretelling the future, because again, you’re the one who left.”
I don’t answer. He doesn’t understand that what I did was a reaction to what he did. I never would have left if I’d thought he wanted me to stay. “These are done.” I tie the last ribbon and huff, “I’m leaving.”
“Don’t you have to take them to the resort?”
“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you need to tag along.”
He flicks his wrist, checking his watch. “I mean, you’ve got less than an hour. And even though I think you’re beautiful, I know you’ll want time to change and get ready. I can take the flowers in while you get ready. I’d hate for you to be the reason your sister’s wedding starts late.”
“Ah! Why are you so infuriating?” I spin on my heel to retrieve the box from the cooler. “Fine. You have a point. Plus, if you drive, I can pluck my eyebrows on the way over.”
“Park right here,” I demand as we screech to a stop in front of the church doors, not caring that it’s not a proper parking spot.
“I’m fine with that,” Elijah says with an irritatingly hot grin. “If I get a ticket, it goes on your record since the van is in your name.” He hops out of the door with urgency and runs around to the back.
“Well, technically, it’s in my mom’s name.” I meet him in the back, yank open the door, and grab the box closest to me. “But I can live with a ticket. I’ve done worse things than get a parking ticket.”
He grabs the remaining boxes in one arm load. I do a double take. Yup. He’s stacked the boxes like he’s some kind of human dolly. I accidentally take two tiny seconds to marvel at his strength, especially since my back is already hunched from the strain of my single box. I cut my focus to the front door before I unintentionally compliment him.
We bust through the sliding doors and head to the women’s room. I knock twice before peeking my head in and start speaking without waiting for acknowledgment. “Kaci, here’s your bouquet.”
Elijah—still apparently committed to driving me insane—hands boutonnieres to the groomsmen waiting in the church foyer. When he returns the empty box, I whisper, “Okay, this is where you can leave me alone now. Go join your hockey friends.”
“You’re welcome,” he says, leaning over one of the other boxes to adjust the lilacs in the altar arrangement. “These are pretty, but not as pretty as ours would have been. Remember you wanted lavender in our centerpieces?”
