I find Ryan in the crowd, and his eyes find me. They stay locked on me, as though he was waiting for me. It’s at once familiar and brand-new. How is it that someone I’ve known for only a few days feels like a home base in the midst of this ridiculous situation we’ve both found ourselves in?
I smooth my dress down as I sidestep two towheaded children dressed in matching seersucker outfits chasing each other, and rejoin Ryan.
God, he looks handsome, lightly perspiring, maybe from the weather, maybe from the company. I take my seat next time him as his eyes flit over my dress and settle, connecting to mine. “You okay?” he asks, and suddenly I’m desperate to tell him about the email that just came through.
But that would be making this moment about me, when clearly, it needs to be about him. “I’m great,” I say, flashing him my winningest smile. But the flurry of activity, the sounds of the string instruments—it all suddenly feels like a lot.
Ryan leans in lightly and places a hand on my forearm. The touch feels grounding. “You don’t look great.” I can smell his aftershave. The warmth of his touch shouldn’t feel this good. “I mean, you look great,” he says, hesitating. “But you seem off.”
The fact that he’s that in tune with me is too much to bear. I mentally shuffle through the plethora of times when I was decidedly not okay over the last few years, and am unsure if it was that Jack didn’t pick up on it, like we weren’t tuned to the same wavelength, or it was just more convenient for him not to recognize it.
I look straight into Ryan’s eyes and take a deep breath. “It’s weird for me to be at a wedding right now,” I say, the words lessening the burden of truth. “But I’m mostly just glad it’s not mine. And I’m happy to be here with you.”
“I’m happy to hear that,” he says. “If it’s too much, we can leave.”
I shake my head. Just saying it out loud makes me feel so much better, and the fact that I had an out it the release valve I needed.
A draw a sharp breath in when the trio strikes upCanon in D. What had I been expecting? It’s a wedding standard. But it still feels like an affront.
The bridesmaids execute their duties perfectly. Smiling, attentive, beautiful but not upstagingly so.
They take their places at the makeshift altar and then the music shifts toAve Maria, and there’s an audible murmur of admiration as Calista appears at the end of the aisle, eyes gleaming and hands clutching at the elbow of her father, whose emotions are getting the better of him.
At least it’s authentic. I’ve only known Ryan for a week and have some sense of the dynamics behind this wedding. What had people been saying about mine? Was there the same backchannel chatter? Did people see right through our impending nuptials, did everyone have something critical to say about our partnership? Something accurate?
Probably.
The bride looks positively glowing as she walks the aisle, and unlike me, she seems confident in her choice. I steal a sideways glance at Ryan and his strong jawline is noticeably clenched. This is hard for him.
I reach over and return the favor he’d given me minutes earlier and squeeze his hand. He clasps onto mine and doesn’t let go.
It’s just two hands together, fingers laced, but somehow, it’s one of the most sensual things I’ve ever felt. I know I should pay attention to the ceremony unfolding before us, the minister’s words, the picture-perfect waves in the distance that justify the high price of the venue, but all I can focus on is how perfectly our hands fit together, like a Rubik’s Cube locked in the right spot.
I want to take his other hand in mine, complete the circle. I want all of him pressed against me. I wantmore.
The ceremony goes by without incident, and it’s not long before the happy couple is parading back down the aisle toCelebrationby Kool & the Gang, the guests now ready to return to the cocktail bar, the light buzz of the welcome drinks faded and the promise of the rest of the night’s events now on them.
“Family photo!” one of the aunts calls, and Ryan turns his head sharply to me. “Let’s get out of here,” he says, and I can’t help the laugh that escapes from my mouth.
I can tell Ryan’s doing his best to avoid making eye contact with anyone as I trail behind him, two escape artists in a sea of his family and friends.
It seems to be a theme in my life in the past week.
As soon as we enter the air-conditioned main floor of the inn, Ryan turns to me, a mischievous expression I’ve never seen before on his face. “Phew,” he says. Maybe he gets off on this kind of behavior, because suddenly my hand is in his again, and he’s pulling it up to his mouth, planting a delicious kiss right below my wrist.
Maybe we both do, because the din of party has almost completely disappeared and for a second, I’m tempted to take this moment one step further. I can tell he wants it too. Panic and something more dangerous arise in me.
I move closer to him so that the gap between us is almost completely closed. If anyone were to walk in they would see us, but as far as everyone knows, we’re a couple. So the only people who would bat an eye would be us.
My not-so-distant past life feels like an eternity ago. But the moment I think of Jack, and the promise I almost made to him, I prepare to take a step back, the reality of the situation hitting me like a truck.
Ishouldbe married right now. Ishouldbe with Jack. I shouldn’t be here, with a strange man, about to indulge in a delicious kiss at his ex’s wedding.
But then I draw in a pull of Ryan’s cologne, I drink in the wanting in his eyes, and now I’m part panic, part primal. For the past few years, I’ve done things forus, because Ishould. This? I want this forme.
Just as our lips are about to meet, the door swings open, and there’s the bride. The triumphant expression on her face fades slightly as she realizes what she’s walking into. “Oh, hey, you two,” she says, overly cheerful. “We’re about to do the full group shot outside!”
Her maid of honor trails behind her. The woman, blue-eyed with freckles and a neatly angled bob, clearly hasn’t been executing her duties as intended. Her pink cheeks and slightly glazed eyes suggest that either she finds this joba lot, or she’s been enjoying the open bar a little too much.
