Page 63 of I Wish I Would’ve Warned You (Forbidden Wishes #3)

EMILY

T he bell above the door chimes as I follow Taylor into the third bridal boutique of the day. She walks in like she owns the place—head high, eyes glittering with the thrill of being in love.

With Matt.

Yes, that Matt—Cole’s cousin.

I’m still not sure how that happened, but here we are. She’s getting married, and I’m her reluctant maid of honor, nursing a bruised heart in a room full of tulle.

She flips through racks of dresses like she’s swiping on a dating app. “Why does every bridal shop assume the bride wants to wear a basic white dress?”

“Because that’s usually the case.” I try to smile, try to sound normal. “The place next door has red and black prom dresses.”

She stares at me like I’ve grown two heads. “Are you out of your mind?”

“I’m just trying to help…”

Taylor sets down a hanger and steps in front of me, gripping my shoulders. “Okay, I am going to set aside this day of me for a second and ask—what the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been moping all morning.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m just… thinking about Cole.”

“Obviously.” Her voice softens. “What about him?”

“If you were in my shoes, you would’ve dumped him too, right?”

She blinks. “Not a chance in hell.”

“Why not?”

“Because despite the ‘friends’ you’ve met of mine, I’ve been a loner all my life, and I’m used to people not liking me.” She shrugs. “So I wouldn’t waste time trying to win their approval. Especially not when I already had something real.”

“Why didn’t you say this before?”

“Because deep down, you’ve always wanted to fit in.”

“That’s not true.”

“Of course it is,” she says gently. “You didn’t like moving all the time, but you didn’t fight it either—because you never had real friends to leave behind. And now that you finally have something, you’re scared of losing it because of what people think.”

“That has nothing to do with?—”

“It has everything to do with it.” Her voice cuts through mine. “You ended things with Cole because you were scared. Even after the truth came out and people moved on, you still let fear win. But him?” She smiles sadly. “Cole didn’t give two fucks, and you know it.”

She’s right.

And what hurts more is that she forgave me.

After everything fell apart, I sat on her floor and told her everything. I apologized for not being honest sooner—told her I’d kept my feelings for Cole hidden because I didn’t want to hurt her. I begged her to forgive me.

Surprisingly, it didn’t take much.

Maybe it had something to do with the new love in her life.

Or maybe Taylor just knew better than anyone how rare something real really is.

Her phone chimes with a loud alarm, breaking the tension. “Okay! Back to me time.” She grins. “Help me find my reception dress, please.”

Later that night…

Taylor

Promise you won’t hate me if I tell you something.

I will. Don’t tell me.

Eh. I’ll risk it.

Cole’s going to be on Artist Spotlight tonight at 11 p.m. You’re welcome.

I don’t bother replying.

Instead, I set down my notebook and pour myself a glass of wine, heart already stammering. I have a full hour before it airs, but I refuse to miss a single second.

When the show begins, he steps onto the stage in ash-blue jeans and a white V-neck shirt. His hair’s a little longer, his eyes a little sharper. The crowd roars. The camera pans across rows of women in the front—some smiling, others screaming his name.

The host leans forward. “For those at home who may not know your work, where would you suggest they start?”

“The Lost Moments Collection,” he says. “It’s being released at midnight, so you should definitely start there.”

The screen fades into a gallery space.

The words “The Lost Moments Collection” appear, followed by a slideshow of his work.

It’s us .

Him and me in a pool. In a garden. Chasing each other through a gallery in slow motion.

Moments we never got to live.

Dreams we painted in stolen hours.

Memories we never had—but somehow, he captured them anyway.

Each frame feels like a breath I never took.

A confession I never gave.

A promise I never kept.

And just when I think I might survive this?—

She walks onstage.

A blonde in heels and an easy smile. She loops her hand through his, and he leans in to kiss her cheek. The crowd cheers.

But all I hear is silence.

My wine glass is still in my hand, full and untouched.

My cheeks are wet, and I don’t remember crying.

When the credits roll, I don’t turn off the television.

I just sit there.

Heart splitting in my chest.

Watching a blank screen, refusing to blink.

He’s moved on.

And I have no one to blame but myself.