Page 12 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Biker

I told myself I was only helping her through the weekend. The attraction made that explanation increasingly difficult to believe.

The wedding planner clapped her hands together, gathering the wedding party. Hannah reluctantly released my arm and joined the others near the altar.

"Maid of honor and best man, let's practice your entrance," the planner announced.

James immediately moved to Hannah's side and extended his arm with practiced ease. She placed her hand on it, and something about the gesture bothered me. It was too familiar.

I leaned against the back wall and watched.

They began walking down the aisle together. James said something I couldn't hear, and Hannah's smile faltered.

"You're moving too fast," James murmured, loud enough that I caught it. "You never did know how to make a subtle entrance."

He said it like a joke. Like harmless teasing between people with shared history.

Hannah laughed, but the sound was hollow.

She immediately adjusted her pace, her shoulders pulling inward, her movements becoming smaller and more careful. The bright energy that had filled her moments before dimmed.

I fucking hated the effect he had on her, but I didn't interfere. Hannah could handle herself, and I didn’t want to make it worse.

James continued criticizing her as they walked. Hannah nodded and adjusted each time, shrinking further with every suggestion.

When they finished, Hannah returned to where I stood. Her movements were still measured, cautious in a way they hadn't been earlier.

"Why are you suddenly trying to take up less space?"

She blinked at me. "I'm not."

"You're walking like you're afraid someone will notice you're breathing."

"James just said I was going too fast."

"You were fine the first time."

"He's been in more weddings than I have."

I studied her face. "You don't need him instructing you on how to cross a room."

Hannah's lips parted slightly, surprise flickering across her features. "You noticed?"

"I notice you."

Hannah's eyes widened, and the air between us shifted into something I wasn’t ready to handle.

She opened her mouth, closed it, then managed a soft, "Oh."

The wedding planner wanted them to run it again, saving us both from whatever came next.

I watched and waited during the rehearsal, then it was time for dinner. The seating chart placed us with several of Lyra's college friends who spent most of their time talking about people I didn't know.

I didn't have much to say, but I listened when Hannah spoke and responded with dry comments that kept making her laugh.

Gradually, she relaxed. Her gestures became broader again and her voice regained its natural warmth. She told a story about her and Lyra accidentally getting locked in a campus library overnight, and the entire table leaned in to listen.

That’s who she was when James wasn't whispering corrections in her ear. Bright and engaging and impossible not to watch.

Her energy drew people in. It was never something that needed to be dimmed.