Page 115 of Only Be Mine

Trevor didn’t hesitate. He released my arm only long enough to reposition himself, already angling us toward the light streaming in through the tall windows.

“Of course,” he said easily. “Let’s get the family first.”

Not a question.

Guests lingered nearby, shifting, waiting to be called forward. The wedding party gathered behind us, bouquets adjusted, jackets straightened. Someone laughed. Someone fixed my veil. Time stretched, rearranged around the lens.

Trevor’s hand settled at my waist, firm and guiding, turning me slightly before I could move on my own. He smiled without effort, the version of himself meant for rooms full of people.

“Relax your shoulders,” the photographer instructed. “Chin up. Beautiful.”

I did as I was told.

Trevor’s fingers tightened, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind me where I was supposed to be.

“Closer,” the photographer said.

He pulled me in, his arm solid around my back. Close enough that I could feel his breath shift when the camera lifted again. I smiled because everyone was watching. Because this was the part I knew how to play.

“Smile,” Trevor murmured, so softly only I could hear.

The shutter clicked.

Once.

Twice.

Again.

I wondered, distantly, how many years it would take before someone noticed how tightly he was holding me.

When the photographer finally stepped back, satisfied, Trevor’s hand slid from my waist to my arm again.

“Come here,” he murmured, steering me toward a side room away from the doors, away from the waiting guests.

“Trevor, everyone’s…”

“It’ll just take a second.”

The room smelled faintly of crayons and old hymnals. Sunday school posters lined the walls.

He stepped back and looked me over.

Slowly.

His expression didn’t harden, but something sharpened.

“Why didn’t you wear the dress?” he asked.

I glanced down at myself. “This is a wedding dress.”

“The other one,” he said. “The one I left for you in your dressing room.”

“I couldn’t,” I said quietly. “I told you that.”

His jaw tightened, then smoothed. “You could have tried harder.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it. Out in the hallway, I heard Amy’s voice. Laughter, people waiting.