That gets a smile. Small, but real. Her shoulders drop slightly. “A very handsome penguin.”
“The caterers are all set,” I say quietly, close enough now to catch her perfume.
She nods, still not quite looking at me, then stops. Her head tilts, confusion crossing her face. “Wait. How do you know that?”
Shit.
My gaze drops to her mouth without permission. Focus, idiot.
“I just—checked. Everything’s fine.” The lie sits uncomfortably on my tongue.
She narrows her eyes, that sharp intelligence zeroing in. But before she can interrogate me, the photographer appears, breathless and harried.
“Need the groomsmen! Ten minutes!” She’s already backing away, camera bouncing against her chest.
“That’s my cue.” I start to leave, taking a step backward.
“Dean?” Her voice stops me.
I turn back, waiting.
“Thank you. For… everything.” The words are quiet, sincere, and they hit me square in the chest.
There are words I should say. Important words. Life-changing words about how she’s turned my entire world sideways in the span of a week.
Instead, I just nod. “Just doing my part.”
“Right. Your part.” Something flickers in her expression—disappointment, maybe.
We stare at each other. The space between us feels electric, charged with everything unsaid. I can feel the pull of her like gravity.
“Dean!” Mason’s voice carries across the lawn, breaking the moment. “Stop making heart eyes and get over here!”
Poppy’s cheeks turn pink, color flooding her face. She looks down at her clipboard. “You should go.”
“Yeah.” But my feet don’t move.
Neither of us moves.
“After,” she says suddenly, meeting my eyes. “After the ceremony. Can we—”
“Yes.” The word comes out before she finishes.
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.” But she’s smiling now, that real smile that makes my chest tight.
“Doesn’t matter. Yes.” I mean it. Whatever she wants to talk about, whatever she needs, yes.
She bites her lip. That thing that makes me stupid, that thing that makes me want to close the distance between us and—
“Okay.” Her voice is soft, hopeful.
“Okay.”
“Dean! Seriously, bro!” Mason again, more insistent.
I back away, still watching her. Committing this moment to memory—the late afternoon sun catching in her hair, the burgundy dress, the way she’s looking at me.
One more smile. Then she’s back to her clipboard, and I’m jogging toward my brother and this wedding that changed everything.
