Page 38 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

COLE

I n the morning, I meander through the motions in third person; it’s the only way I can force myself through this farce of a wedding.

I put on the suit, but it feels like I’m dressing someone else. I smile in photos I won’t keep, stand next to people I wouldn’t miss. None of this belongs to me—not the day, not the name, not her.

The tailor fawns over the stitching, marvels at how perfect “the Dawson family” will look in magazines. I tune him out. I nod when I’m supposed to. I stand where I’m told.

Per my father’s request, I pose with the groomsmen and best man, and then—just to drive the point home—with my parole officer who came incognito as “Mr. Dawson’s Number One Stalker Fan.”

Everyone laughed.

Except me.

As the ceremony unfolds, I look at the love of my life standing across from him. I study her angles—cheekbone, shoulder, the soft line of her mouth—committing them to memory so I can paint her later exactly as she is in this moment.

She’s smiling. But it’s pained.

The tears she keeps wiping away aren’t for this love.

They’re for the love she just found—and can’t keep.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

The pastor’s words snap me back to my own body, just in time to feel my chest cave in. My heart nearly combusts as I watch my father kiss the new Mrs. Dawson.

Emily doesn’t look my way. Not once.

We take an obnoxious amount of family pictures by the beach. Her hand grazes mine only once, briefly, and it’s cold. Empty.

After our parents finish their “first dance,” I retreat to the balcony with a bottle of vodka.

“Hey, man.” Matt steps out to join me. “You do know your parole officer is here, right?”

“I’m highly aware of that.”

“You don’t think he’ll try to give you a test or anything?”

“Doubt it, since I’m not driving anywhere tonight.” I take a swig from the bottle. He sits next to me.

“How long has it been going on?” he asks.

“Ever since I was released,” I say. “He checks on me a lot more than legally necessary, but I doubt he’ll hold today against me. He’s here to meet celebrities.”

“I’m talking about the relationship between you and your stepsister.”

“What?” I turn to face him.

“It’s obvious as hell,” he says. “I mean, maybe not to anyone who doesn’t know you like I do, but…”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I say. “I think she’s breaking up with me.”

“How do you know?”

I know her better than she knows herself. I chase the thought with vodka.

“Ask me about something else, anything else…”