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Ryan

Charm didn’t release me when conversations paused around us. She didn’t glance toward our friends, search for whoever might be watching, or loosen her hold to make the contact appear friendly.

She walked beside me like she belonged there. Like I belonged there. That should’ve satisfied the question. Instead, it created a thousand more.

We entered the quieter corridor and climbed the main staircase. Charm leaned against me, steady in her heels but buzzed enough to give each turn careful consideration.

“This place has too many hallways,” she said.

“You created a twelve-page itinerary.”

“I didn’t design the castle.”

“You should’ve color-coded the walls.”

“That’ll be tomorrow’s project.”

“What color is emotional distress?”

“Whatever color shirt Bliss makes you wear.”

“Then emotional distress is black.”

“Best Man looks good on you.”

“Maid of Honor One looks better on you.”

Her hand tightened around my arm. “Aura keeps telling me she’s Maid of Honor Two because Bliss loves me more.”

“Easton’s possessiveness is the reason you’re one and she’s two.”

“He already tried negotiating himself as Best Man One for an even playing field. Bliss threatened to demote him to guest.”

“He’d still walk down the aisle with Aura.”

“He’d tackle whoever was assigned to her.”

I laughed as we reached the east wing. The sounds from downstairs faded behind us, leaving the muted strike of our footsteps and the movement of Charm’s dress.

I could’ve walked faster.

I didn’t.

Charm stopped before a white door near the end of the corridor. She released my arm and removed the key card from her purse, although she made no attempt to unlock it.

“This is me.”

“I figured.”

“You promised me something.”

“I promised you a little conversation.”

“This hallway isn’t exactly private.”

“Your room is.”

Charm’s fingers tightened around the key card. “Are you coming inside?”