I can’t breathe. Can’t fucking breathe.
Pressing my palm against my chest, I bend at the waist, willing air into my lungs as I chase down the panic rising from my guts. Issa’s hand rests on my back, but she doesn’t say anything; just allows me a moment to get my shit together.
Resigned to whatever fate awaits me, I slowly straighten, clear my throat a few times, dragging in a ragged breath, then two. Issa steps closer, her thumbs stroking lightly beneath my eyes, removing the panic tears that escaped without permission. Then she cups my face in her hands, whispers, “You’re never stuck anywhere. We can leave right now, tomorrow, a week, a month, a year from now. Just say the word.”
A watery laugh escapes at the meaning behind her words. Having no clue about the arrangement I set for myself, I’m sure she thinks my behavior is a huge red flag. Which is entirely fair.
Not knowing what to say I nod, and after a few moments she releases me, turns back toward the path, now glowing fire from the sunset. “It’s sure is beautiful.”
Nodding again, I clear my throat. “It sure is.”
Taking my hand firmly in hers, Issa leads me down the path, and I follow easily, knowing deep down I have nothing to fear here. We get closer and the girls come into view, seated with Tony. A few more steps and there’s Declan, acoustic guitar strapped on, a smug smile on his face.
“Is that?” I don’t even have to finish my question, the telltale intro ofNothing Else Matterscalling us closer. Issa’s grip tightens, her free hand moving to sandwich my hand between both of hers.
“It’s true,” she whispers. I turn to look at her, but her entire focus is on Declan, who’s now singing as he watches her. “Once you know, nothing else matters.”
They’re entirely focused on each other, the abject adoration in Issa’s gaze palpable. A warm breeze floats over me, and with it, a peacefulness I’ve never felt before. Not awkward or stilted or forced; it just…is.
Ignoring the sudden sting behind my eyes, I move forward, and Issa comes with me, though I know she still only has eyes for Declan. Ren comes into view, standing in front of a wedding arch, his dark suit a sharp contrast to the pale flowers secured to the wood. His eyes lift to mine, then he scans me from head to toe and back again, and when his gaze returns to mine it’s now heated.
I close the distance between us far more quickly than I would’ve liked, and long before I’m ready, I’m standing in front of him. He’s watching me, silently, and after a moment I say, “You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.”
“May as well make it count,” he responds, his words somber. “Just in case.”
I give him a look that has him grinning, and then my hands are in his, and he’s turning toward the officiant with a nod.
The man begins to speak, but I’m not listening, too entranced by watching this imposter version of Ren. Most of my dislike for him has always been exaggerated, a young woman’s only defense against the fact he’s hot as hell and completely off-limits.
Who’s off limits now?
He had his hair trimmed, so while it’s still a tousled mess, it has a slight style to it. He shaved his trademark stubble, his clean-shaven skin glowing in the rays of the setting sun. My fingers itch to reach for him, to yank his tie loose and unbutton the top few buttons of his shirt. To muss him up and rough him up. To throw him off guard like he has me completely thrown.
“Ms. Logan,” the officiant says loudly, indicating this is not the first time he’s attempted to get my attention. “Your vows?”
I make a face, then glare at Ren who’s giving me a challenging look. I cannot for the life of me figure out what he might have to gain from putting me on the spot like this, but there is zero chance I’m going to come up with anything even remotely romantic.
Panicked, I go for the truth. “I’m aterriblecommunicator.”
Ren’s brows raise, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly. I squeeze his hands tighter, yanking to ensure I have his attention. His expression turns serious, his gaze intense as I continue, “I don’t like to compromise. And I hate sharing.”
The officiant’s eyes widen comically. He looks between me and Ren, obviously at a loss on how to proceed.
Ren leans in, and it’s all I can do to prevent myself from leaning away. He releases one of my hands, moving to rest on my waist, holding me in place. Having nowhere else to put it, I place my now free hand on his bicep, grateful for the heat of his body as I’m forced to take a small step closer.
“It just so happens,” he drawls, his voice low, his tone soothing, hypnotizing, even. “I’m anexcellentcommunicator.”
He adjusts his grip on me, his eyes intent on mine. “As long as you follow myrules, I’ll let you have anything you want.”
Leaning in, his gaze becomes hard, his fingertips digging in sharply. “And I’ll never share you.”
One of the girls makes a rather indelicate noise from behind me, the implication behind his words crystal clear. Then his gaze clears, and his attention moves away as he waits for the next instruction.
Relieved I don’t have to respond, I turn my attention back to the officiant, listening and repeating as required, moving as if in a fog.
Even though this was entirely my idea, I still feel all sorts of ways about it. Maybe just because none of this has gone as planned, but I’m going to have a serious talk with myself next time I’m alone.
Which, according to our agreement, is basically never.
