Page 43

After partying for another hour, Hunter and Olivia say their goodbyes, heading off by horse and carriage to their private cottage. As Olivia gives us a royal wave, I pop one of the celebratory bubbles floating around me, and a familiar figure catches my eye. Beckett barely glances back as he sneaks around the side of the building, avoiding the chaos as the official function comes to an end.

I want to congratulate him on the fact he lasted this long, but as he disappears out of sight, he takes a little of my spark with him.

“Mackenzie wants to decorate Hunter’s car.” Henley dances around in front of me, with excitement building in her eyes. “Are you in?”

“When you say ‘decorate,’ you mean…” I trail off, waiting for her to fill in the blanks.

“We’re going to paint it so it’s all pretty when they drive home tomorrow.”

My eyes bulge as I stare at my best friend. My only slightly tipsy best friend who is not suggesting this as a drunken adventure. She’s of sound mind.

“I…uhh, I think I’m going to sit this one out. I should have listened to you and changed into flats.”

Henley’s gaze drops to my red feet, and she crosses her arms over her chest, fighting a smile that threatens to break through. “You really should have. Do you want me to walk you to your room?”

Without permission, my eyes drift to where I last saw Beckett, and I shake my head. “I’m okay. You go and have fun with your destruction of the groom’s personal property.”

“Thanks.” She winks. “I will.”

She pulls me into a hug before rushing away, and when Atlas immediately joins her, a wave of warmth rolls through me.

Never has a more beautiful human been more deserving of a happy ever after. God, I hope he doesn’t let her push him away.

I hover for the next ten minutes, successfully acting the part of someone who wants to be here, in this present moment, while my mind drifts to Beckett, wondering where he is. What he’s up to. Whether or not he’s alone.

The second it’s socially acceptable to do so, I give up on the pretense and shamelessly head off in search of Beckett, hoping to catch him somewhere on the grounds, while knowing he’s likely already holed up in his room. Or in a car on his way home.

I’m practically running on the way to the hotel—or moving as quickly as my heels will allow—but when the glass doors open like an invitation, a panic takes over, and I immediately slow down, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

What the hell am I doing?

It’s Beckett.

And I kissed him.

There’s no way in hell anything could happen between us, and yet, here I am, searching for him. A one-night stand would be beyond awkward when I see Henley, and anything more is inconceivable. He’s my best friend’s brother, he lives in another state, and he doesn’t do relationships.

It should be a no-brainer.

Still, my tired feet keep moving, and with every step I take, my heart pounds harder, desperate to see him.

As I reach the elevators leading up to the rooms, my shoulders sag and a little of the adrenaline leaves me. Giving up is by far the best option. I'm tired and there’s a good chance Beckett’s already in bed. But instead of calling the elevator, I find myself turning left and walking past the rustic-styled bar, my heart skipping when the man consuming my thoughts comes into view.

I pause as I stare his way, channeling a confidence and strength I didn’t know I had. And before I chicken out, I beeline to where he’s sitting in the middle of the room, dropping down into the seat opposite his.

“For a man that barely drinks, you sure spend a lot of time in bars.”

Beckett glances up at my sudden intrusion, and for the briefest of seconds, his glare makes me nauseous, until the most glorious smile lights up his face.

“It seems I’m not the only one. We do have a habit of meeting like this.”

“Confession.” I suck my painted lips into my mouth, tasting the gloss I’d freshened up a few minutes earlier.

Beckett’s smile fades but like always, he hides it. “I’m listening.”

“I only came in here because I saw you.” The pounding in my chest turns into an off-rhythm disaster, but I hold my composure for the seven torturous seconds it takes for Beckett to speak.

“And here I was thinking I was hiding away.” He winks and I internally relax.