I don’t see it.
“I should go meet Lake,” I tell them, since he texted me a few minutes ago that he was almost here. “I’ll pop into the ballroom on the way back for the floral check.”
“One of the videographers will be there in the doorway. She’ll be in peach.”
“Of course.” I smooth a hand over my black maid of honor dress, then leave to meet my plus-one. It’s a relief to escape the cameras for a bit.
I dart down the hall, lined with champagne roses as far as the eye can see. Pulling up my skirt, I race-walk to meet Lake at the front entrance when Jameson pops out of the groom’s suite, uncharacteristically wobbly on his feet.
“Hey, Remy. Would now be a good time to talk about the best-man toast?” His words are a little slurry, but his smile still friendly. Or performatively friendly. “You were busy yesterday at the spa.”
I flash him a smile that I don’t mean. “I’m still busy.”
“I totally get it,” he says, laying on the charm. “But listen, I know this wedding is a big deal with the live stream and all, so I just wanted to let you know I’ll be giving the best man speech with my own brew.” He taps the bottle in his hand.
Screw smiling. “No!”
“Remy,” he says, all playful and too sweet. “I didn’t have to ask for permission. I’m doing it to be nice. And who cares if I use champagne or beer, right? Everything will still go perfectly. I know that’s important to you, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. Cool?”
My blood boils. He thinks by giving me a heads-up that I’ll play along? Like my desire for things to go smoothly is stronger than my protection of my sister from being used? He dumped the wrong woman then.
“The answer is still no. Caroline has a sponsor for her wedding, and it’s not your brewery. This isn’t about product placement.”
He tilts his head. “Can’t we talk about it as friends and all?”
“We’re not friends, and we don’t actually need to talk.”
He waggles his phone at me. “Don’t we though?”
What is he going on about? “Jameson, you can’t do this. It’s that simple. I need to go get Lake.”
“I imagine you do,” he says with a knowing smirk I want to wipe off his face.
I snap my gaze away from him, beelining to the front entrance and trying to shake off that uncomfortable encounter, and this foreboding feeling nipping at my ankles. And I do forget it momentarily as Lake pushes through the revolving door.
My heart speeds up. He’s so staggeringly handsome in his dark sapphire suit that hugs his muscular frame, his short hair that he cut for me, that trim beard that sends sparks across my thighs when he rubs it against me, and his cool blue eyes, intense and vulnerable and locked on me.
Memories of last night crash back into me, and I reel from the emotions that rushed through me as we came together. Maybe Caroline was right. Maybe romance can happen on its own terms, in its own time.
Maybe a rebound can become something more.
I hope.
I walk right over to him, grab the lapels of his suit jacket, and speak from the heart. “You look amazing.”
His eyes roam over me. “So do you,” he says, his voice a raw scrape. “You’re just…wow.”
I reach for his hand, and he sighs happily. Like all he’s wanted is for me to take it. We walk back through the hallway.
“I need to slip inside the ballroom where the ceremony’s being held to check on things,” I say, “and then it’ll probably be a little chaotic.”
He stops walking, spinning me around and tugging me toward him.
“What is it?” I ask.
He’s quiet though. Just squeezes my hand, like he’s sending me a private message. A new sense of calm floods me. This is the man I shared a secret with. This is the man I learned to trust. This man makes me feel…like myself.
I squeeze back and he draws a deep breath, squares hisshoulders and shakes his head as he looks me over, like he can’t believe his eyes. “I was going to wait till tonight, but seeing you now—I can’t wait to ask you something.”
