“I do.” She slides a gold band onto my ring finger.
It’s nothing fancy, but it came with the wedding package, and I won’t turn down anything that tells the world this woman is mine.
“And do you, Griffin Ryder Hayes?—”
I don’t even let the man finish speaking. “I do.”
I slip a matching diamond-encrusted band onto her left hand and lace her fingers with mine.
Angie giggles, swaying in her heels.
“You may now kiss the bride.”
She trembles as our eyes meet across the narrow aisle. Tentatively, as if her feet are moving of their own accord, she takes one step closer, closing the distance. Her chest rises and falls in time with mine. It’s so quiet, you could hear a pin drop.
I shouldn’t do this. She’s supposed to be marrying Tyler. I’m just the best man.
Her lips twitch into an uncontrollable smile, and whatever force was holding me back crumbles to dust.
Fuck it.
The kiss happens in slow motion, or maybe I’m too drunk to remember what the normal passage of time feels like. I slide one hand around her soft waist and pull her body flush against mine. The first brush of our lips feels like destiny, the second feels like coming home, and then I’m losing all control. To hell with the consequences.
I dip her backward, deepening the kiss.
She moans into my mouth, and I take the opportunity to slide my tongue against hers. She tastes like margaritas and monumental missteps.
What am I doing?
This is Angelina. The woman who, not twelve hours ago,was getting ready to pledge herself to my best friend. Still, I can’t seem to muster up a single fuck where Tyler is concerned. He fucked up, and he can live with the consequences.
I reluctantly break away from the kiss, but I don’t let her go. Not yet. I’ve waited years to have her in my arms again, and I’m going to savor this moment for as long as she’ll let me.
I’m distantly aware of the officiant speaking.
Angie pushes out of my hold and takes a paper from him.
The marriage certificate.
Christ. We really did it. I married Angelina Rossi.
“Griff?”
I blink, coming back to reality. “Hm?”
“It’s over. We can go now.”
“Right.”
Angie tugs on my hand and leads me out the door like a woman on a mission, and I’m content to go along for the ride. The bright city lights assault me as we step out onto the street, accompanied by the mingling sounds of traffic whooshing by, the distant bells from slot machines, and chattering crowds. It’s a far cry from small-town Oak Ridge, that’s for damn sure.
“We’re married,” she says, like she’s testing out the words.
“Yep.”
“We’remarried.”
“Mhm.”
