I’m not sure I see that changing after marriage. Maybe it’s a naïve notion, but I like to think that my only sister will be my ride-or-die forever. Sisters Chantel and Lindsay, who are also part of my bridal party, have that kind of kinship, too.
I'm the baby of the group, a result of having moved up a grade in elementary. Despite that fact, I’m a pioneer among them—the first to brave the trail of matrimony, and I like that. I’ve known since I was a little girl that I wanted to get married and have a family, and now, I’m well on my way.
The night moves on, and I dance like I’ve never danced before. High on caffeine, courtesy of a few Diet Cokes, I enjoy my final evening of singlehood.
I’m considering a third Diet Coke as we make our way back to the bar when one of our favorite line-dance songs blasts over the speakers. It’s later now, the hour when they increase the volume for that perfect dance night vibe.
“This is it,” Annica yells.
“Let’s move it,” Shelly cheers.
Since Jessica is busy flirting with the bartender, I tug on her hand. "To be continued,” I tell him.
He lifts a hand and waves. “Catch you later, Jessica.”
I spin around and, in my hurry to join the others on the floor, run right into a passerby with a dizzying thud.
“Umph," I yelp, and press my smooshed cheek away from the rather rock-hard chest I ran into.
I stumble back as a pair of muscular arms steadies me in place. Whoever this guy is, he isbuff. And good on his feet, having stayed upright after being Billy-goat-rammed by the bride-to-be. And, man, he smells good.
I wonder if I have a concussion.
“Sorry,” comes a masculine voice. But it’s not just any voice. Sure, the music is thumping, and Jessica is somewhere in the background asking me if I’m all right. And yeah, I did just knockmy head upside the marble-strength mass of muscle before me, but still…I’m almost positive I recognize that deep, masculine voice—a voice that reaches right into my lower tummy with a tightening twist.
My pulse spikes—a hot flash in my chest as I step back and slowly lift my gaze, past the well-defined chest with also familiar-olive toned skin, past a very chiseled jaw with a dusting of devastating facial hair, and right into the eyes of a man I never thought I’d see again.
It’s him, Mr. Unnameable, the man who killed a part of my heart. An organ that plummets straight to my feet and keels over. Dead.
His name is the closest thing to an oath in my world, but it flies off my lips like a bird set free.
“Liam?”
Liam
Keep it together, Liam, keep it together.
The fact that my inner coach is speaking up is not a good thing. It means I’m in panic mode and trying hard to stay calm.
But calm, my friends, has left the building, because I’m standing face-to-face with my reason for being here tonight.
"Hey, Ashley,” I rasp, taking in the stunning sight of her. No, I’m more than justtaking inthe sight of her. When a man’s been deprived of oxygen, and he finally gets that blessed gasp, he inhales with greedy desperation. And so do I in this moment. Dang, she looks good. Those gorgeous brown eyes, that shiny black hair, and a figure that still hasn’t seen a day of neglect.
Easy, Liam,Coach urges.
I can't say I’m shocked to see Ashley Chen here sinceshe'sthe reason I came tonight, but this isn’t the sort of “running into her” I had in mind.
Ashley, however, would look less surprised if she saw the ghost of Elvis. I lower my head to speak over the blasting beat. I’d have preferred to have this conversation at a different time in a different place, but you know what they say about beggars.
“How are you?” I inhale her subtle scent, sweet like a crisp, tangy apple.
“Uhh…” She adjusts the small crown on her head and shrugs. “Fine.” Her delicate hand slides down the sash she wears over her blouse. And though I know Ashley’s here for her bachelorette party, the sight of that phrase—Bride-to-be—toys with my mind. I don't read it as if she’ssomeone else'sbride-to-be; I read it like she’s about to be mine.
I never thought Ashleywouldn’tbelong to me, nor I to her. Yet here we are, surrounded by strangers in a moment that comes down to my one final shot.
"My ummm…my friends are on the dance floor," Ashley adds, pointing toward the group.
I’m lipreading, mostly, since she has taken a step back. I shoot a half-glance at them before fixing my gaze back on her.Please, God, let her hear me out. Let her give me a chance.
