Page 37 of Marrying Mr. Wentworth (Austen Hunks #3)
Two weeks until the wedding — Milwaukee — Ariana
I had Christopher’s name saved in my phone as DO NOT TEXT THIS MAN.
Helpful, in theory. Less helpful when I kept staring at my phone like it might ring if I blinked hard enough.
I hadn’t replied. Not to his messages. Not to his voicemail. Not to the look I imagined on his face when he woke up in that hotel suite in Vegas and saw my note.
I’d told myself I needed space. That I was doing the smart thing. The rational thing. The emotionally bulletproof thing.
And now?
Now I just felt numb.
So when my phone buzzed and Jeremy’s name lit up with a FaceTime request, I debated ignoring it. Then I remembered I was still his bridesmaid and ghosting the groom probably was a bad look.
I accepted.
“Hey,” I said, trying not to sound like I was halfway to a panic spiral.
He grinned. “Hey, Ari. You look…”
He trailed off.
“Like a woman who made a huge mistake in Vegas and hasn’t slept properly since?” I offered dryly.
He winced. “Was gonna say tired, but yeah, that tracks.”
I flopped onto my couch, blanket still wrapped around my shoulders, even though it wasn’t cold. “Please tell me this is about table assignments and not a surprise therapy ambush.”
Jeremy’s face softened. “Just checking on my sister. Who’s been avoiding everyone.”
“I’m fine,” I lied.
He didn’t even blink. “You’re not.”
I sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing, J. I thought walking away would make it easier. Cleaner.”
“Did it?”
“No,” I said. “It made it worse.”
He nodded slowly, like he’d expected that. “You know I remember what it was like after he left back then.”
I swallowed hard.
“You were a zombie that summer,” he said. “Ice cream, sweatpants, watching Legally Blonde on loop like it held the secret to surviving emotional trauma.”
“That movie does hold the secret,” I said, voice weak. “It’s perseverance and good hair.”
Jeremy didn’t laugh.
“I didn’t think you’d ever get over it, Ari,” he said gently. “And if I’m honest? I don’t think you thought you would either.”
I stared at him, heart lodged somewhere in my throat.
“I’ve watched you over the years,” he continued. “With other men. The occasional date. That guy from law school. That accountant you brought to Mom’s Christmas party.”
“Bill,” I muttered. “He brought his own spreadsheet to Secret Santa.”
“Exactly,” Jeremy said. “And not one of them ever made your eyes light up.”
I blinked. “You were…paying attention to that?”
“I’m your brother,” he said simply. “I notice things. And I noticed that ever since Christopher left, your heart hasn’t been in it. Not with anyone else.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I said the only thing that felt true. “I was too afraid.”
“I know,” he said. “It hurt to watch. You building walls so high no one even tried to scale them.”
I stared down at the frayed corner of my throw blanket.
“But seeing you in Vegas?” Jeremy’s voice dropped. “Ari…I saw your eyes again. I recognized them. They were full of life.”
Tears threatened. I blinked fast.
“He made you come alive again,” Jeremy said. “And I think you know it.”
I exhaled. Shaky. Quiet. “So now what?”
“That’s not for me to answer,” he said. “But you’ve got two weeks to figure it out before you’re in the same room again. And I think you should ask yourself one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Is fear a good enough reason to walk away from the one person who makes you feel like you again?”
I didn’t have a good answer. And before I could say anything else, Meg’s face popped into the frame over Jeremy’s shoulder, her eyes wide with purpose.
“Sorry to hijack your moment, but don’t forget—Mitchell’s next Wednesday at four.
Final fittings. If you bail, you’re wearing a burlap sack down the aisle. Love you!”
She disappeared just as fast.
Jeremy looked amused. “She’s terrifying.”
“She is,” I agreed faintly.
“Think about what I said,” Jeremy finished.
I nodded and hung up. But I didn’t need to think about it. Because deep down, I already knew it.
No. Fear wasn’t a good enough reason to walk away from the one person who made me feel like me again.