by Cat Carmine
I relax, just a fraction. Maybe this is still going to be okay. As long as they don’t mention anything to Rori, I can get out of this unscathed. I still have to figure out what to do when we get back to the city though. I’m going to have to come clean about the whole thing, even if it means she’s going to hate my guts. There’s no way Levi is going to agree to back out of the deal, and I don’t want to hurt Rori any more than I already have, so telling her seems to be the least destructive option. Even though the very thought of it brings a wave of bile up into the back of my throat.
“Good,” I say nodding. “I prefer not to talk shop this weekend, if it’s all the same to you. Don’t want anyone thinking I latched on to this wedding just to drum up business with the guests.”
“Totally get it,” Trent says, nodding. “But we’re definitely going to be in touch after this is all over.”
“Absolutely. Sure.”
The silence digs in between us, but fortunately, Trent’s phone buzzes and he reaches into the pocket of his jacket to grab it. He glances down at the screen and then turns to his brother.
“We’re being summoned to the suite. Pre-wedding toasts and some more photos.”
Luke downs the rest of his drink. “Let’s go, then. Don’t want to keep the bride and groom waiting.”
The two men slide off their bar stools, but Trent pauses before they go.
“Hey, Wes — why don’t you join us for a drink?”
I shake my head. “I shouldn’t. I don’t want to intrude on family time.”
He shakes his head. “You wouldn’t be. Totally informal. Plus, I know Celia’s dying to meet you.” He flashes me a grin and I swallow. I know this comes back to Rori again, and I have to remind myself to be cool.
“Sure, that sounds great. Thanks for the invite.”
We signal the bartender and settle up the tab, then I follow Trent and Luke out of the bar and towards the bank of elevators.
Twenty-Eight
“Don’t cry,” I laugh, wiping at the corner of my eye. “Because if you cry, I’m going to cry, and then we’re going to have to get the make-up artist back in here.”
Celia laughs and dabs at the corner of her own eye. “I can’t help it. I’m just so happy.”
We’re standing in the suite that’s been delegated for the women to get ready, though we’re expecting the guys to join us any moment. We’ve been primped, primed, pinned, prodded, and bustled into our dresses, and now the only thing left to do is enjoy the time we have before Celia and Jace walk down the aisle.
“The dress turned out beautiful,” I tell Celia again, for probably the hundredth time. I can’t believe how amazing she looks. Her black hair is pinned back into an elegant chignon, held in place with amethyst-studded pins. Her earrings are amethysts too, to match the engagement ring Jace had bought her. Her dress is not quite ivory but not quite stark white, and it feels just a touch vintage, with its lace overlay and the way it’s nipped in at the waist.
“Bree really outdid herself,” Celia murmurs, turning to admire her reflection in the mirror again.
“Only because I had such a good model,” Bree insists. She’s one of Celia’s new friends from Chicago, and I liked her instantly from the minute I met her. All of Celia’s new friends are really nice, and even though there are times I miss her like crazy and wish she would come back to New York, I’m glad that she’s seems to be thriving out there.
Bree is another one of her bridesmaids, along with a girl named Hannah. We’re all gathered in the room now, sipping champagne in our lavender-colored bridesmaid dresses. The hotel room has a beautiful view of the river that runs right through the middle of Ambleside, and the mid-afternoon sun is streaming through the window. It’s a perfect moment, and I have to look away as I dab at my eye again.
“Stop it!” Celia laughs, catching me despite my attempts at discretion. “We’re putting a moratorium on crying. It’s official.”
I laugh. “Fine. I’ll try my best.”
At that moment, the door opens and the guys all tumble in, laughing about something. There’s Jace, the groom, plus his two brothers, Trent and Luke. Trent is Hannah’s husband, and Luke is engaged to be married to Bree. The three couples are all extremely close, and for half a second, I feel just a tiny bit left out. I don’t even have any one to walk down the aisle with. Celia and Jace have an uneven number of attendants, so it was decided that Luke and Bree would go down the aisle together first, followed by Hannah and Trent, and then me by myself. When we’d first discussed it, I didn’t mind. I still don’t, really — but seeing the guys all spill into the room and head straight for their beloveds sends an unwelcome pang of longing through my chest.
Until I see him.
Wes.
He follows the other three guys into the hotel suite tentatively, as if he isn’t quite sure he belongs here. He scans the room, his eyes searching for something. Until they land on me. Then they stop.
His expression changes. It cycles from uncertain, to hesitant, to relieved, to something else. Something like reverence. I feel a flush creep across my skin, and catch Celia watching me curiously in the mirror.
I cross the room towards Wes.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He clears his throat. His eyes travel the length of my body, and even though it’s covered in full-length lilac chiffon, I get the strangest feeling that I’m wearing significantly less. Under Wes’s gaze, I feel exposed. Seen. “You look beautiful.”
His voice is deep, and my longing only deepens with it. “Thanks. I clean up okay, right?” I add, to lighten the mood.
“Yeah. You do.”
His gaze still hasn’t come off me, and suddenly I feel the eyes of everyone else in the room on us too. I give my head a little shake and turn to face them.
“Everyone, this is Wes. Wes Lake. We went to high school together, and he agreed to be my date today. Wes, this is ... everyone. “
Wes exchanges greetings with everyone, while I avoid meeting Celia’s eyes. I don’t know why. Because I’m afraid she’ll see something in the way Wes and I look at each other? Or because I’m afraid she won’t?
“We were told there’d be champagne here,” Jace’s brother Luke says, looking around the room.
“Please,” Celia says, rolling her eyes. “Of course there is. You might have to open a fresh bottle though.”
Luke heads to the bar fridge and pulls out an icy bottle of Dom Perignon. While he busies himself with opening it, I turn back to Wes.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” I say quietly.
“I ran into Trent and Luke in the bar. They invited me up. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“Good. It’s not bad luck to see you in your dress or anything, is it?” he teases.
I laugh. “No. That’s only for the bride and groom, and, as you can see, Celia and Jace are already bucking that rule. So I think we’re safe.”
“Good. Because I have to be honest, I’d probably have been willing to risk it. You truly look beautiful, Rori.” He looks me up and down again, and goosebumps speckle my arms.
We’re standing close to each other now, so close that I can feel the heat of his body radiating in the air between us. I want to press myself against the length of him, let him wrap his arms around me, feel his lips against mine.
“Too bad there are so many people in this hotel room,” Wes murmurs.
“Well, you know, we have two other hotel rooms that are perfectly empty right now.”
Wes’s eyes blaze, but at that moment, we’re interrupted by Luke, who hands us champagne glasses.
“Here you go,” he announces. Then he winks. “Nice and refreshing. Cool you off.”
My cheeks blaze, but Wes chuckles, and Luke has already turned away, pouring more champagne and handing out glasses.
When everyone has a glass, Jace steps into the middle of the room.
“I’d like to make a toast,” he says. The chatter in the room stop
s as everyone turns their attention to him. He looks nervous, suddenly, with all eyes on him.
“First, I want to thank all of you for being here with us and helping to make our day so special.”
Wes looks slightly uncomfortable, and I know he probably feels a bit out of place being here with these people he barely knows. Without thinking about it, I slip my hand into his and squeeze. I’m glad he’s here, and I know that’s enough for Celia.
Wes looks down, surprised, but he squeezes my hand in return as we both turn back to Jace.
“Of course, the person I want to thank the most is Celia,” he says, turning to his bride-to-be. “Somehow I convinced her to marry me, and I thank God every day that she was crazy enough to say yes. When someone comes in to your life like this, someone who makes you feel alive and like the person you’re meant to be, then you do anything you can to hang on to them. I’m so grateful that I’m going to get to spend the rest of my life with this amazing woman.”
Celia wipes away a tear and laughs. “Jace. I put a moratorium on crying. You’re not helping my cause.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” he chuckles. “It’s just that you make me want to shout it from the rooftops. But I’ll wrap it up because we have to get going soon.” He lifts his glass up. “To perfect love. Finding it, having it, and holding on to it forever.”
We all lift our glasses and then drink. I can’t resist sneaking a glance over at Wes. He sips his champagne along with the rest of us, but I can’t read the expression on his face. As I study him, his eyes flick over to mine. For a second, our gazes lock. Then he throws back the rest of his champagne.
“I should go,” he says to me quietly. “I think I forgot something in my room. I’ll meet you down in the reception area?”
“Sure.” I nod, but I feel confused by his sudden change in demeanor. Was he overwhelmed being in here with the wedding party? Was Jace’s speech too sappy for him? I watch as he discreetly eases out of the room, and then catch Celia watching me.
“Rori, can you help me with something in the bedroom?” she asks.
“I can help you, babe,” Jace says, but Celia shakes her head.
“It’s a girl thing. I need Rori.” She looks pointedly at me.
“Sure.” I shrug and follow her into the bedroom part of the suite, where she closes the door behind us.
“Holy smokestack,” she says, as soon as the door clicks shut.
“What?”
“That man is ... wow.”
“Wes?”
She rolls her eyes. “No. Richard Nixon.”
“Yeah, he’s ... not unattractive.”
“Not unattractive. Yes, that’s exactly the way I’d describe him,” she says, laughing. “And the way he looked at you ... well, I can see why you didn’t waste any time falling into bed with him.”
“It’s not like that,” I protest.
“Like what?”
“Like whatever you’re thinking. It’s just a physical thing.”
“Mmhmm.”
“What? It is. Now what did you want me to help you with?”
“Nothing. I just needed an excuse to get you alone.”
“Why? So you could grill me about Wes?”
“Um, yes. I’m your best friend and it’s my wedding day. If there was ever a day I deserved the inside scoop, this is it.”
I brush off her comment. “There is no inside scoop. I work for him. We’re sleeping together. That’s pretty much the whole story.”
“With the way he looked at you, Rori? That is soooo not the whole story.”
I finger the fabric of my dress, not quite able to meet her eyes. How does Wes look at me? What did Celia see, exactly? And do I even want to know?
We’re saved at that moment by the sound of someone rapping on the door.
“Ready, babe? We should get downstairs.” Jace’s voice comes from the other side.
“We’re ready,” she says. She links her arm through mine. “Right?”
“Right.” I smile, and we rejoin the group.
Twenty-Nine
“More champagne?” Wes asks, holding the bottle up.
“Sure.” I nudge my glass over towards him and he tops it up before refilling his own. We’re sitting at the table in the reception hall, watching a few brave souls out on the dance floor. The wedding went by without a hitch. I survived my walk down the aisle by myself. It had helped, of course, that Wes caught my eye as soon as I made it to the front and gave me a wink and a grin.
The ceremony was beautiful, and was followed by a surprisingly delicious dinner. I’d even managed to give my Maid of Honor speech without completely losing it or totally embarrassing myself. All my obligations are done with now, and Jace and Celia are in that delirious newlywed haze where they’re making heart eyes at each other regardless of where they each are in the room. It’s pretty adorable, actually.
Whatever weirdness was going on with Wes earlier seems to have mostly dissipated, and he’s been sweet throughout the whole evening, always making sure my glass is full, pushing my chair in for me every time I come back to the table. He even made polite conversation with my parents and sisters. Mom was a little over the top — champagne will do that to her — but at least Emma held her tongue.
There still seems to be something eating at him though, and all through the evening, I sneak glances at him, trying to read between the lines of his expression.
This time he catches me watching him and smiles. I smile back too, but maybe a bit hesitantly, because there’s something almost sad in his expression.
A silence grows between us. I scan the room, because it’s easier than looking at Wes. Celia catches my eye, and she looks questioningly at me. I just give her a small wave though — I definitely don’t want her spending any of her wedding night worrying about me. I don’t even know what I’d tell her if she asked. My feelings for Wes are confusing as hell, and I don’t think I could explain them even if I wanted to.
There are times he seems incredibly sweet. And like he might have real feelings for me. But then he always pulls back. And I have no idea if that’s because of this dumb contract, or if it’s for another reason. Maybe the same reason he pulled away the first time. Whatever that was.
And I don’t know if this is what I want anyway. The way I feel in Wes’s presence is indescribable, like I’m in exactly the right place with exactly the right person. But there always seems to be something holding us back. Something murky that I can’t quite see or touch. Something that I don’t understand.
Then again, maybe I don’t want to. What we have feels tenuous at best, like even a light breeze might scatter everything to the wind, just as it did twelve years ago.
That’s it, I realize, stopping with my champagne glass half way to my lips. It’s that with Wes, I always feel like I’m holding my breath. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. The thought fills me with a kind of wordless sadness. What kind of relationship can you have when you’re always waiting for the floor to fall out from beneath you?
“Would you like to dance?” Wes says, interrupting my train of thought. “The wedding’s almost over and we haven’t even had a dance yet.”
When I look over at him, he’s holding his hand out. His smile is so sweet and earnest, and I know this is another one of those moments that he’ll pull me in and make me forget all my doubts. I decide to let him.
“Sure.” I put my hand in his and he leads me on to the dance floor. As soon as we get out there, the pop song that was playing is replaced by a ballad.
“Good timing,” Wes says with a grin.
“Or bad, depending on how you look at it. I was looking forward to seeing some of your Kung-fu Fighting moves.”
He chuckles. “Those are in my past, I’m afraid.”
He wraps his hands around my waist and draws me close to him. As soon as his arms are around me, my body relaxes. All my confused feelings take a back seat to the sensation of his body firm against mine, of his hands skimming
over my hips. It feels like this is where I’m meant to be, even if my head doesn’t always agree.
I lay my head against his chest as we sway to the music. I’m acutely aware of every inch of Wes’s body, even though I try to relax and enjoy dancing with him, all I can think about is what else we could be doing right now.
I get the feeling Wes is entertaining the same idea, because he pulls me closer to him and his hands slip lower — not quite on my ass, but not chastely on my waist anymore either.
“Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you right now?” he says. His words are buried in my hair, but they get my attention. I pull my head up and gaze up at him.
His eyes are dark, his expression serious.
After a beat, I shake my head. “It’s not wrong.”
“Good. Because I’m going to do it now.”
He leans in then, grazing his lips across mine. I suck in a breath at the sudden intimacy of it. He somehow pulls me even closer to him, crushing my breasts against his chest as his kiss deepens.
When we pull apart, I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s the champagne, or maybe his lips have made me delirious, but I decide in that moment that I’m tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“Wes,” I say, craning my neck up to gaze at him. “What are we doing?”
“Well, I thought we were dancing,” he grins. “But I could be wrong, of course.”
I smile lightly, but shake my head. “I’m being serious. What are we doing? This … everything. What is this?”
Wes takes a long moment to answer. His eyes go to the ceiling for a second and then light down on my face again. God, I could get lost in that blue. Deep as the ocean and just as dangerous.
“Rori,” he says. He brushes his fingers along my cheek. Finally, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. But … I hope it’s something real.”
My toes curl as he leans over and kisses me again.
I lose track of everything. The walls around us, the music, the slight buzz in my head from the champagne, even the fact that somewhere in this room, my best friend is celebrating one of the most special days of her life. The only thing I can see, hear, smell, taste, feel is ... Wes. Everything is Wes. In that moment, the entire world rolls into a small ball, a wide open plain. Everything is laser focused, yet spread out into an infinity of space and time. Everything is in this kiss.