“Delilah, you’ll be walking with Alex. Trina with Dan. Kate, you’re with Adam. Henna is with Aaron.” I watch my friend beam at the news, like she didn’t already know she’d be walking down the aisle with him. “Peyton, you’re with Abel.” I stop listening to her after that.
Wait...
What?
“I thought I was walking with Josh?” I whisper to Henna, referring to one of Andrew’s lawyer friends.
“No idea.” Henna shrugs.
I try to squash the nervous energy forming in my chest, but it doesn’t do me a bit of good. I don’t know why I’m so anxious. It’s just a quick walk down the aisle. And a dance at the reception, my lovely inner voice pitches in, adding a slow simmer of excitement to the mix.
Taking a slow breath in, I let it out even slower. No matter how attractive Abel is, he’s not someone I want to get mixed up with. If there’s anything worse than a bad boy, it’s a broken one. And there’s no doubt in my mind that Abel is most definitely a broken man. You don’t suffer the kind of loss he has and come out on the other side still intact.
“Finally,” Henna grumbles next to me and I snap out of my fog long enough to see Sam enter the room.
“Sorry, ladies.” She seems winded and a bit out of sorts. “Is everyone ready?”
“Heather has the guys lined up in order down the hall, as are the girls here,” her mom answers, gesturing to the row of us.
“Perfect.” She claps her hands together excitedly. “All right, ladies. Let’s do this.”
Moments later we are all filing into the hallway. Because the bride and groom’s dressing rooms are on opposite sides of the church, we are all meeting in the middle, at the large double doors that lead into the great room.
I spot Abel immediately. His messy hair hanging across his forehead, his ocean blue eyes trained on the ground, his large hands shoved into the front pockets of his faded blue jeans.
I knead my bottom lip between my teeth, the butterflies in my stomach so prominent it’s a wonder I can even keep my feet on the ground.
I can’t help it. He’s that good looking.
One by one, Heather, the wedding planner, lines us up next to each other. When she takes my arm and positions me next to Abel, I’m not sure what to do. Do I say hello and act like we’re old friends? Do I stay quiet and keep to myself, on the very likely chance he doesn’t want to speak to me? God, I’ve never felt so much uncertainty standing next to a man before.
“You seem about as excited as I am to be here.” He speaks low so only I can hear him.
Relief floods through me and I turn my gaze up to his, my heart rate picking up a few notches when my eyes land on his.
“I am excited.” I try to seem relaxed even though I feel anything but.
“You sure?” He smiles at me and for the first time I notice the solitary dimple on his left cheek.
Swoon.
“I’m excited for Sam.”
“Not a big fan of weddings?”
“I’m just not really a fan of being a part of them.”
This causes him to smile wider and I swear my stomach does a full flip at the sight.
“Me either. At least not big spectacles like this.” He gestures around us.
“Yeah, I’m with you there.”
“Well, at least we can be miserable together.” He chuckles, falling silent when the double doors swing open and the first couple makes their way inside.
Abel and I are the fourth couple to walk. When it’s our turn he offers me his arm. “Let’s get this over with, shall we?”
“Let’s.” I smile, looping my arm through his.
——
“Thank god that’s over.” I jump at the sound of Abel’s voice next to me.
I stepped outside to get some fresh air for a minute, not realizing he must have followed.
“Yeah,” I agree, sliding down onto the bottom step of the stone staircase that leads up to the front entrance of the church.
Abel’s feet shuffle against the concrete seconds before he takes a seat next to me.
“One more day, then this spectacle will be over. Thank fuck.” He half sighs, half laughs.
“You are nothing like your brother.” Did I say that out loud?
“I have four. You’ll have to be more specific.” He pulls his knees up and rests his elbows on top of them before turning his face toward me.
“I was referring to Andrew.”
“You mean he’s an uptight, self-righteous tool and I’m not?” He chuckles.
“Yeah, let’s go with that.” I can’t stop the smile from spreading across my face.
“Product of being the youngest,” he explains. “I think you’ll find I’m not like any of my brothers.”
“I don’t know, you and Aaron seem kind of similar. Then again, I don’t really know you, or him very well, for that matter. Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“Aaron is the most like me. He’s just better at pretending than I am.”
“Pretending?” I question.
“Aaron has this innate ability to fit in no matter who he’s with or what he’s doing. He conforms to his audience and plays whatever role he has to. So while to some he may seem like a judgmental asshole like the rest of my family, to others he’s the most laid-back guy in the world.”
“You think your family are judgmental assholes?”
“Have you met my family?” He hitches his thumb back toward the church, already knowing that I have. In fact, I spent a good ten minutes after the rehearsal talking to his mom, who went on and on about how incredible Sam’s taste is.
She seemed nice enough, but there was definitely an uppity quality to her personality. Honestly, she was kind of intimidating to be around.
“Fair point,” I manage to say, looking down to where my hands are knotted in my lap.
“About last weekend,” Abel starts after several long moments of silence. “Sorry I disappeared like that.”
“Don’t be.” I play it off like I didn’t think anything of it.
“I realize how strange it probably seemed at the time.”
“It’s fine, really. You weren’t there with us. You don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I know I don’t. I just don’t want you to think I make it a habit of behaving that way.”
“Why do you care what I think?” I glance back toward him, having to physically restrain myself from reaching up to push away a chunk of hair that’s fallen in front of one of his eyes.
“Truthfully?” He waits until I nod before continuing. “I don’t know.”
A small laugh makes its way past my lips. “Well, at least you’re honest.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but snaps it closed when the heavy doors behind us jar open.
“There you are,” Henna says right as I turn to see her coming down the stairs toward us. Her gaze slides from me to the man sitting next to me. “Oh, hey.” She smiles at Abel.
“Hey.” He nods.
“Sorry to interrupt.” She pauses two steps up from where we are. “Everyone is getting ready to go to dinner.”
“Okay.” I push to a stand, Abel following suit.
“Aaron’s going to drive us there and then bring us back here to pick up my car later.”
“Okay.” Turning toward Abel, I say, “Guess I’ll see you at the restaurant.”
“Actually, I’m coming with you. I hitched a ride here with Aaron, so I kind of don’t have a choice.”
“I call shotgun,” Henna announces loudly, and both of our gazes go to her.
“Funny.” Abel grins. “I didn’t realize people still did that.”
“Typically they don’t.” I snort. “At least not adults anyway.”
“Are you judging me right now?” Henna’s hands drop dramatically to her hips.
“Maybe a little.” Abel shrugs, a smile on his gorgeous mouth. “But it’s okay. You can have shotgun. I’d rather sit in the back with Peyton, anyway.
”
It’s such an innocent statement, and one that he likely says to reassure Henna he won’t be fighting her for the front seat, but it still sends a zing of excitement through my stomach.
“Hey!” I jump at the sound of Aaron’s voice, all three of us looking to the top of the stairs where half of his body is peeking out the door. “You guys coming or what? Everyone else has already left.”
“We’re coming.” Abel takes off up the stairs, leaving Henna and I to follow.
Henna knocks her arm into mine and gives me an excited look, gesturing to Abel. “What the hell?” she mouths.
“What?” I mouth back, playing casual. I mean, what other way could I play it? What she walked out on was casual. Just two semi-strangers making small talk.
“You know what,” she whisper hisses.
I shake my head at her and turn my gaze forward, not willing to get into this with her right now. One conversation with Abel and Henna is probably planning our wedding. When I say she goes zero to sixty in three seconds, that doesn’t just mean when it comes to her life. She tends to jump the gun in all aspects.
We head back through the church and out the rear doors to where Aaron’s Jeep is parked in the back lot. Crossing to the passenger side, I climb in the backseat and settle in directly behind Henna.
“I forgot to ask.” Aaron looks at Abel in the rearview mirror as he pulls out of the church parking lot. “Is Claire coming with you tomorrow?”
My excitement evaporates a little at the mention of Claire’s name. I have no idea who she is, only that Abel received a phone call from her last Saturday which caused his whole face to light up.
“Yeah, I’m picking her up on my way to the church,” he confirms, his gaze going out the window.
“Who’s Claire?” Henna turns slightly in her seat. “Is she your girlfriend?”
I bite back the urge to tell my friend to shut up.
“No,” he answers simply, not giving her any other information.
Her lips turn into a frown and even though I can tell she wants to push, for once her nosy side doesn’t win out and she turns back around in her seat.
The rest of the drive is relatively quiet. It only takes about five minutes to get where we’re going, but for some reason it feels like it takes so much longer. There’s this weird energy pinging around the back seat and I can’t tell if it’s just me or if Abel feels it too.
I look down to where his hand is on his leg, his thumb twirling a silver band on his ring finger that I hadn’t noticed before.
He’s still wearing his wedding band. My chest tightens.
I refocus my gaze out the window.
It would be so easy to let myself get caught up in a man like Abel. Too easy. But I’m not interested in starting anything. And considering he’s still wearing his wedding ring; I’d venture to say neither is he. The last thing I need to do is obsess over a man I have no chance of having. It only further solidifies that I need to keep my distance from him.
When I don’t listen to my gut, bad things happen, and people get hurt. Mainly me. And right now warning bells are pinging in my head, one after another.
I know I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m overthinking a situation that isn’t even a factor. We’ve had all of two conversations, both of which only lasted a couple minutes and neither of which implied he was the least bit interested in me. But when you’re in the presence of someone as captivating as Abel, you immediately start adding some bricks to your wall. Because even if he has no interest in me, it’s becoming increasingly more difficult to ignore my interest in him.
Chapter Seven
Peyton
“Hey, Dad.” I press my cell phone to my ear as I readjust the purse strap on my shoulder. “I’ll be right in,” I tell Henna, covering the receiver with my hand.
She nods, following Aaron and Abel into the restaurant.
“What’s up?” I lean against the brick wall a couple of feet from the door.
“Just calling to see how you are. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to pick up the phone and call your old man every once in a while.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” I immediately feel guilty. “I’ve been so busy between work and Sam’s upcoming wedding. I swear I haven’t had time to breathe.”
“That’s right. I forgot your friend is getting married,” he says distantly, like he’s saying it to himself and not me. “When is the wedding again?”
“Tomorrow. I’m actually at the rehearsal dinner now.”
“Oh.” He pauses. “I didn’t realize it was so soon. I won’t keep you, but I wanted to invite you over for dinner next Saturday. Tina is making pot roast.” He knows I can’t resist my stepmother’s famous pot roast.
“Um, yeah, I should be able to make it. What time?”
“Six?”
“Six works for me.” I shuffle my feet. “I really should get going, Dad,” I say, nervously peeking through the glass doors of the restaurant to see that our party has already been seated.
“Okay, sweetie. Have fun.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
I wait until the call disconnects before dropping my cell back into my purse and quickly making my way inside.
I step into the lobby and scan the open room. When I spot Sam and the rest of the wedding party standing next to the far-right windows, I head in that direction.
By the time I make it to the table everyone has already begun to claim their seats. I scan the long line of chairs, finally spotting an empty one at the end across from Henna.
It isn’t until I reach the empty seat that I realize who’s sitting in the chair directly next to it. I look for another option, but unfortunately, there isn’t one.
It would figure. Out of the twenty some people in attendance, I would get stuck next to the one person I promised myself I would stay away from. The heavens really are against me right now.
“Everything okay with your dad?” Henna asks as I slide down into the chair, draping my purse across the back of it.
“Yeah, he wanted to invite me to dinner next weekend.”
“He probably misses having you around.”
“It’s been nearly a year and a half since I moved out,” I remind her. “I’m sure he’s used to it by now.”
“Even still, I bet it gets lonely in that big house, only him and Tina.”
“Who’s Tina?” Abel chimes into the conversation, and even though I tell myself not to look at him, I can’t stop my eyes from swinging in his direction.
“Step-mom,” I answer shortly.
“They live close by?” he asks. And even though I’m not sure why he wants to know, I answer him anyway. He’s probably trying to be polite and make conversation.
“About forty-five minutes outside of the city.”
“And what about your mom?” My heart sputters slightly in my chest. Most everyone I know already knows about my mom. I can’t remember the last time someone asked me about her.
“She passed away when I was fifteen.” I turn my gaze down to the unopened menu laying on the table in front of me.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The sincerity in his voice is unmistakable.
“Thanks,” I murmur, flipping open the menu. “It was a long time ago.”
Thankfully the waitress chooses this moment to appear to take our drink orders and I get out of having to say more. It’s not that I mind talking about my mom. I don’t. I just don’t think now is the time for such a heavy conversation.
Even though I had no intention of drinking when I arrived, when the waitress’s attention falls to me, I order a glass of wine. If I have to sit next to Abel for the next hour or two, I’m going to need it.
“So Abel, Aaron tells me you’re recently back from California,” Henna chimes in the moment the waitress’s focus shifts to the other end of the table. “How was that?”
“It was okay.” He shrugs, turning his attention from his me
nu to Henna.
“If I lived in California I would probably be on the beach every single day. Did you live close to the ocean?”
“I was actually staying with our brother, Alex.” He gestures to the dark-haired man a couple seats down from him. “He only lives a few miles from the beach.”
“And you came back to the windy city, why? If I ever had the courage to go, I don’t think I’d ever come back.”
“I knew it was temporary when I went. I had a few things to, um, work out.” He chooses his words carefully, clearly having no idea that we already know about his wife. “Chicago’s my home. It was never a question of if I came back, simply when.”
“And we’re glad to have you home,” Aaron chimes into the conversation.
I glance at Abel out of the corner of my eye, not missing the silent exchange that happens between the two brothers.
“So,” Henna continues when silence falls over our side of the table. “What’s everyone getting? Everything looks so good.”
“They have the best lobster here,” Aaron tells her, leaning in unnecessarily close to show her where the lobster is on the menu.
Little does he know, Henna hates seafood.
“What else?” she asks, choosing not to tell him of her dislike.
“Well, the filet is pretty spot on. And the garlic mashed potatoes it comes with are killer.”
“Do you eat here often?” I ask Aaron, not missing how well versed he seems to be with the menu.
“This is one of our parent’s favorite restaurants,” Abel answers. “We used to eat here at least once a month growing up.”
“So then, what do you suggest?” Henna asks Abel, leaning forward slightly in her seat.
“I personally prefer the Porterhouse Steak. And Aaron’s not wrong about the mashed potatoes. They are pretty amazing.”
“What about something that won’t clog my arteries and didn’t come from the sea?” she asks.
“I think the word you’re looking for is salad,” Abel says, causing me to bark out a laugh.
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