“You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was.”
“It must be really sentimental. Wow.” She turns toward to front of the room to look at the happy couple. “What happened during photos?”
“That was more about Lauren dictating where everyone would stand. She did a ton of solo pics and got upset when she overheard someone ask why she didn’t do this before the ceremony.”
“I agree–why didn’t she?”
“This is typical Lauren. Jake loves her and he’s oblivious. I used to get irritated by it, but if he’s happy, then I’m happy.”
“You’re a good man, Wyatt Bradford. Some might even say the best man.”
I lean in to kiss her again and glance around the table to make sure she won’t be lonely while I attend to my best man responsibilities. I’m on deck for the speech, after it’s cake, and then I’m free to enjoy the rest of the evening with Blair. I plan to wrap my arms around her on the dance floor and prove to her she is the best thing that ever happened to me.
twenty-six
. . .
BLAIR
I’m spiraling.
Sophia’s been swept away by Jake’s cousin and he’s currently spinning her on the dance floor, while I’m sitting alone at the friends and family table. With Wyatt’s family. His father is deeply distracted by his phone, while his mother is catching up with Jake’s mom. I keep hearing his father’s words in my head.I thought he was coming with Bethany?It feels like déjà vu.
I’m so confused because Wyatt is saying all of the right things, but I feel like we’ve been here before. Wanting to be together is not our problem, but expectations from his family—his father—seem to still haunt him. I don’t trust that our feelings will ever outweigh his obligation.
As the end of the evening nears, and the groomsmen head out to the dance floor to celebrate Jake, I slip away quietly, careful not to draw attention to myself. I need some time to think. I know Wyatt will be upset that I left without him, but I’m not in the right headspace to talk through anything yet. I don’t even know what I want. My heart pounds in my chest as I make my way through the crowd, and my mind races with everythingWyatt’s dad said. Distraction. Almost ruined his life. The words play on repeat in my head like a cruel mantra.
And Bethany—another perfect match Wyatt’s dad lined up for him. Why did I let my feelings get the best of me again? Why didn’t I learn my lesson the first time?
I’m exhausted when I get home. Emotionally, I’m wiped, but I find myself pulled to my closet to dig out the old memory box I haven’t touched in years. It’s a shrine to Wyatt, filled with pieces of our past—pictures, movie stubs, little notes we passed in class. I grab the box and a bottle of wine and spread out on the couch, too tired to change right now.
As I sift through our past, I can’t help but feel the familiar tug in my chest. How did everything go so wrong? I stare at a photo of us on the back of a golf cart. His arm is wrapped around my waist like he never wants to let go. My hand rests on his thigh, a casual touch that feels anything but casual when I think about it now. My head is turned in his direction, mid-laugh, my eyes crinkling at the corners. I can’t remember what was so funny, but the way he’s looking at me—like I’m the only person in the world—makes my heart skip a beat even now. It’s impossible to reconcile that boy with the one who hurt me or the man who could destroy me all over again.
I hear a knock at my door and try to ignore it until I hear Wyatt’s voice calling my name. When I finally open the door, he looks relieved.
“Can I come in?”
I want to tell him to go away and slam the door in his face, but I’ve spent the last hour revisiting our past and all the good times we had, so I let him in.
He’s quiet as he looks at the mess of memories spread all over the couch. Then he walks over for a closer look. “What’s all this?”
“Us.”
“You kept all this?”
When I finally glance up, he looks…relieved. Hopeful, even. As he steps closer to me, I can see the determination in his eyes.
“Blair, I’m sorry about earlier.”
“I guess your father isn’t a fan of mine.”
He takes my hands in his. “What my father thinks doesn’t matter. What I think does. And I choose you. I’m sorry for everything—for the past, for tonight—but you have to believe me when I say that what we have is real. It’s always been real.”
His words hit me hard, and I want so badly to believe him. But a part of me is still scared, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“How do I know this isn’t just going to end the same way it did before?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
