In two days, we’re supposed to stand beside our best friends and smile and toast to love and forever. And all I can think is how the hell am I going to pretend to be whole when I’m splintering apart inside?
Because I’m losing her. I feel it every time I look at her and see the fear in her eyes. I feel it in the way her fingers hover before finally smoothing the crease from my brow, gentle and tentative, as if she’s afraid I might shatter if she makes one wrong move.
It makes me want to fucking scream.
Because she’s right. We can’t. I know that. But God, I’m so fucking tired. Tired of secrets. Tired of pretending like I’m okay with marrying someone else while the only woman I want is lying right here, close enough to touch but somehow already gone.
She’s looking at me like I’m beautiful. Like I’m worth saving. And it kills me because I’m not. I’m dangerous, and fucked up, and carrying too many secrets. And no matter how many times I try to drown them in vodka, they’re still there when the bottle’s empty.
“Lil’… don’t make me do this. It’ll fuckin’ kill me.” My voice is raw between us.
“They’ll never let us go quietly,” she whispers, her voice breaking around the words. “You know that, baby. Please… don’t make this hurt more than it already does.”
Her eyes shimmer like she’s on the edge of tears. And fuck me, it feels like my ribs are caving in.
Because thisdoeshurt. It hurts in ways I don’t even have words for.
The stolen moments, the secrecy, the taste of her skin still on my lips, and the emptiness waiting for me after. It’s not enough and too much at the same time.
I look at her, and all I can think of is how fucking cruel it is that the one person who makes me feel like there’s still something good left in me… is the one person I’m not allowed to have.
We made our choices. And no matter how many nights I lie awake trying to rewrite our future, I know the truth.
Dreams don’t mean shit in our world.
Hope is a luxury for people who don’t have blood on their hands.
And wishes?
Fucking worthless.
Watching Owen marry Cora should’ve been the ultimate celebration. After all this time, seeing my best friend marry his girl should’ve felt like the start of something beautiful, like maybe there’s hope for the rest of us, too.
But all I can think about is how fucking far away Lily feels from me right now.
She’s across the room, bathed in the glow of fairy lights strung over the dance floor, laughing too loudly at something Abbie said. She’s swirling champagne in her glass like she candrown herself in bubbles and forget I exist. And every time her eyes skim past me, she flinches like I’m radioactive.
She’s scream-singing Taylor Swift with the other daughters of the Points like nothing happened. Like I didn’t look her in the eyes two nights ago and whisper that it would fucking kill me to let her go.
I can’t breathe. My chest feels too tight, the expectations are pressing in from all sides, and I’m running out of time by the second. And it sure as shit doesn't help that every time I so much as inch closer to her, she flinches. Or that Abbie is busy glaring at me from across the dance floor, like she knows exactly what I’ve done and like she might gut me for it.
But hell,Idon’t even know what the fuck I did wrong besides loving her.
“You good?” Owen comes to a stop beside me, handing me a glass of something amber and sharp. His wedding band flashes under the twinkling lights like a neon sign screaminghappily ever after.
I stare at that ring and feel my chest tighten. I want what he has.
Or what I thought I had, for five fucking seconds.
But today’s meant to be the happiest day of his life, so I lie. I play the role of joker, of best friend. Like I always do.
“Yeah, man. I’m perfect.”
I clap him on the back and toast him before downing half the drink in one swallow. I keep my eyes away from Lily because every time I look at her, it feels like I’m peeling open a wound that refuses to close. Soon the amber liquid is gone, and a new glass is pressed into my hand—vodka this time.
The vodka blurs the edges of everything but her.
I try to distract myself. Smile at the other soldiers, entertain the kids. Dip my chin at Jonathan. Pretend I’m one of them—a loyal son, content to marry Gianna Salvatore and live the life mapped out for me since birth.
