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Arya is dancing with Roman. Wrapping my arms around her middle section, I pull her against my chest. Immediately, she turns and hugs me despite my shitty behavior tonight.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper against her neck, starting to cry again. Over her shoulder I can see Ender shake Roman’s hand and pat his back. And beyond that, I can see the destruction of our blow-up at the wedding and the storm. There’s literally debris everywhere and Arya is still dancing, like nothing will ruin her wedding. Two tables have been crushed, glass and flowers splayed over the grass. No one bothers cleaning it up and the wedding continues.
Arya holds me tight. “I love you, Hads,” she whispers, tear-soaked, same as me. “I always will. Even if you did make a terrible maid of honor.”
I laugh. “You have my permission to get totally shit-faced at my wedding.”
“Deal.”
My eyes meet Ender’s over her shoulder, watching us, smiling.
Ender approaches his sister. “Did you save a dance for fuckface?” he asks, holding her in his arms when she throws herself at him.
We all laugh at her nickname for him when we were younger.
As I watch the two of them dancing together, I spot Granny, still reading my book in the corner table. I don’t think she’s moved because her hair is all over the place, dress soaked and she’s still flipping through the pages.
“Granny,” I say, approaching her. “What are you doing over here?”
“Reading,” she says, eyes moving over the pages. “This boy loves this girl more than she realizes.”
My eyes lift to Ender who’s dancing with his sister. His gaze lingers my way and he winks.
I suppose he does.
* * *
It’s nearlythree in the morning when the party begins to wind down. Arya and Roman leave on their honeymoon, and only a handful of people remain at the house, most of which are hired to clean up. I’m sipping on a glass of champagne and thinking I should curl up in bed with Eddie, but there’s a good part of me that doesn’t want to leave Ender. I’d love to follow him up to his old room and beg him to hold me. I know it’s wrong, but is it too soon to want those things from him again? Am I forgiving him too easily?
The rain is a steady mist now. A lurid haze lights the sky as lightning scatters across the lake. The air has a familiar, smothering humidity.
Ender approaches me, sighing. He’s lost the suit jacket, the tie, and the sleeves of his dress shirt have been rolled up to his elbows. He looks so damn sexy I fight through urges to make him take me up to his room. “I didn’t do all this,” he notes to the destruction around us, chuckling.
“You did that though,” I point out, gesturing to the table I sat at earlier.
He sighs again and buries his hands in his pockets. He draws in another breath, as if he’s preparing himself. “I’m not asking for forgiveness here, Hads, or even to be with you.” Our eyes meet and my heart pounds. “Though I want that, all I’m asking for is a chance, I guess. To get to know you again. To get to know her.” He takes my glass of champagne from me, downs the rest of it, and then sets it down on a table that escaped the destruction.
“I wasn’t done with that.”
He smirks and circles his arm around my waist, as if pulling me close is a natural reaction. There’s a familiar Tim McGraw song playing on the radio as our chests meet. “And I’m not done with you.”
I roll my eyes playfully, watching his face as we sway to the music. “What do you have in mind?”
“Maybe a date.” He brushes his nose along my jaw.
I nod. “One date, and we’ll see how you do with a date.”
He laughs, his chest shaking. “No pressure, huh?”
I smile, but commotion behind me catches my attention when Ender’s eyes cloud with rage at whoever is in his line of sight. He holds me tighter, gripping my dress at the small of my back. He swallows, his heart pounding against mine.
I angle my head over my shoulder to see Theo, drunk out of his mind, stagger toward us with Lana following him. “Theo, don’t,” she pleads, tears falling from her eyes. “Stay away from them.”
Theo doesn’t listen and Ender moves quickly, pushing me behind him. “You two were gone for a while. Ya knock her up again, End?” Theo laughs, his half-lidded eyes focusing on his son. “Did you make another bastard kid?”
I don’t have to see Ender’s face to see him unravel. His posture goes rigid, his back tensing. He doesn’t say a word to his father. I’ve never known Ender to have to raise his voice to get his point across. His cold blues and menacing glare do just fine.
But this is Theo.