‘You looked like you could use a drink,’ he says as he nears, his voice extra low so he doesn’t disturb Lottie.
‘You’re a mind reader,’ I say, almost wincing as my words collide with my panicked thoughts, and I hurry on, ‘Which one’s for me?’
‘You really need to ask?’
His mouth lifts into that trademark half-smile: the one that never quite reaches his rich, brown eyes but always teases like it might.
Not that his eyes look brown right now. They’re more black, and they glitter like obsidian in the fairy lights, making it hard to hold his gaze.
‘Thank you.’
I take the obvious choice, careful not to brush his fingers, which is ridiculous in itself. I’ve never been afraid of touching Axel, even when it puts him on edge. Which it does. A lot. Any touch, from anyone. It’s not personal. But I’ve always figured that the more I touch him with kindness, the less the beatings of his past get a say.
‘Is it bad I don’t care what it is?’ I ask.
‘Only if you start whining later.’
My laugh comes out far too breathy and I pray he doesn’t notice. ‘Consider me warned.’
He clinks his glass to mine and takes a swig, but I don’t move. I’m too caught up in him. With the styled hair and designer stubble, he’s him, but not. Familiar, yet… charged in a way that makes my pulse race even faster.
‘You mention my hair again, Stone,’ he grumbles without looking at me, ‘and we’ll be having words.’
‘Gee, you’re touchy tonight,’ I tease, though the only person getting teased here is me. Because Axel looking less like Axel makes him feel less like my off-limits best friend, and more… possibility. Throw in my sudden hankering for a baby, and I barely recognise myself right now either. ‘Tiramisu not sitting right, or is it just the wedding-day fun bringing out your inner grouch?’
‘Says the woman who couldn’t?—’
A high-pitched giggle cuts him off, and I glance past him as two women stroll on by. One leans into the other with the easy sway of tipsy confidence, sandals hooked on their fingers, eyes hooked on the man at my side.
They’re part of Sadie’sWe Riseteam; the foundation she set up a few months back to help more people like her. They’re lovely, smart, kind… and I’ve got no right to judge their ogling when I’ve been doing plenty of the same.
He’smybest friend. I’m the last person who should be doing it.
Bad Tay!
‘You don’t fancy a moonlit stroll with your fans?’ I say, head twitching in their direction while he barely spares them a glance.
‘Not with women who cry during slow songs and call me “brooding”,’ he says dryly. ‘No.’
A laugh slips out; he’s brooding, I’m broody, go figure.
‘Did they really?’
‘More than once.’
‘Well, youarebrooding. You’ve said five words all night. And even your best man speech was?—’
‘Mercifully short.’
My laugh comes easier now. ‘That’s one way to put it.’
‘People hate speeches.’
‘People also hate dental surgery. Doesn’t mean they don’t appreciate a little finesse with it.’
‘Says the woman who was too choked up to say a word.’
His eyes pin me to the swing and I gawp up at him. So much for keeping the tears to myself. I take a steadying sip of cocktail: sweet, strong, perfect.
