Page 38 of Rules Of Engagement: St. Louis (In The Heart of A Valentine #17)

Chapter

Twenty-Eight

NAOMI

“Adrian’s wedding is next Saturday,” Christian said over breakfast, scrolling through his phone while I nursed my second cup of coffee. “It’s a black-tie reception at the Four Seasons. It’ll be a nice event.”

I nodded, buttering my toast while my mind wandered to my lunch with Journey and Frankie yesterday.

“Naomi?”

I looked up to find Christian watching me with concern. “Sorry, what?”

“I said the wedding starts at four. We should probably leave around three to account for traffic.”

The casual assumption that I’d be going with him made my stomach flutter with anxiety. “Do you need me there?”

“I was hoping you would attend with me, unless you don’t want to go.” He set down his phone, giving me his full attention. “You don’t have to if you’re not comfortable.”

The reasonable response would be to say yes, of course, I’d go. We were in a committed relationship. Going to weddings, games, cookouts, and funerals was a natural step. But the idea of sitting through a wedding made my head hurt.

“No, I’ll go,” I heard myself saying. “It’ll be nice to meet more of your family.”

“Are you sure? You look like you’d rather have a root canal.”

I forced a smile. “Wedding nerves. I always get emotional at weddings.”

“Good emotional or bad emotional?”

“We’ll find out.”

The Four Seasons ballroom had been transformed into a beautiful, luxurious space. White roses and baby’s breath adorned every surface, candles flickered on round tables covered in ivory linens, and the people were dressed to the nines.

Adrian looked radiant in her strapless gown, her dark hair swept into an elegant updo that showcased the diamond necklace that had belonged to her grandmother. She was marrying a man named David who worked in finance and looked at Adrian like she was the woman of his dreams.

“She’s beautiful,” I murmured to Christian as we found our seats in the third row.

“She is.”

The ceremony began with a saxophonist playing a soft melody, and I tried to focus on the beauty of the moment rather than the memories it stirred. But as the officiant began speaking about love and commitment and the sanctity of marriage vows, my throat started to tighten.

Till death do us part.

Those were the same words Gerald and I had spoken. The same promises we’d made to each other in front of family and friends who’d believed we meant them. The same lies I’d been foolish enough to believe in.

“Are you okay?” Christian whispered, his hand finding mine.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

Adrian and David were writing their own vows, speaking about finding their soulmate and promising to love each other through whatever challenges life brought. Their words were beautiful, heartfelt, and what every couple believed on their wedding day.

But promises were easy to make and even easier to break.

Christian’s hands gripped mine, and I realized my hands were shaking. I pulled away, clasping them in my lap instead.

The reception was held in the adjacent ballroom, featuring a live band and a dance floor that could accommodate up to 200 guests.

Christian introduced me to cousins from Chicago.

Another set of beautiful brothers, Hunter, Xavier, Lance, and Raphael.

The resemblance was uncanny, and I was shocked that so many beautiful people could be a part of one family.

We navigated conversations about his work, my work, and how we’d met.

“Such a lovely couple,” one elderly woman gushed, squeezing my arm. “When’s your wedding?”

“Oh, we’re not—” I started.

“Soon, I hope,” she continued without hearing my correction. “We’ve been waiting for Christian to find the right woman for years. We’re all so happy he found you.”

My smile became tight and painful. “Excuse me, I need to powder my nose.”

I escaped toward the ladies’ room, but a small voice stopped me halfway there.

“Are you married to Cousin Christian?”

I looked down to see a little girl with braids and a white dress, staring up at me with curiosity.

“I...” My tongue suddenly seemed too big for my mouth. “No, sweetheart. We’re not married.”

“But you’re holding hands and everything. My mommy says when grown-ups hold hands like that, it means they love each other.”

“Sometimes it does.”

“Do you love Cousin Christian?”

“Yes… I do.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

My eyes widened and suddenly I was hot.

“Jasmine!” A woman approached, scolding the little girl. “Are you bothering Christian’s wife?”

“She’s not his wife,” Jasmine announced. “She said she’s his girlfriend.”

The woman’s eyebrows rose. “Oh. I’m sorry, I assumed just like she did.”

“It’s fine,” I said quickly.

She laughed. “I’m Belinda, Jasmine’s mother. And you’re right to take your time. Marriage isn’t something to rush into.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Well, I hope you’re having a good time. Come on Jasmine.”

They trailed off and I let out a deep sigh.

As the evening progressed, the assumptions multiplied.

Another one of Christian’s distant family members congratulated us on our engagement that didn’t exist. A college friend asked when we were planning the wedding we weren’t having.

Each misunderstanding was a small blade, cutting deeper into my composure.

The worst came during dinner, when Adrian’s father stood to give a toast.

“To my daughter, Adrian, and her new husband, David,” he said, raising his champagne glass. “Marriage isn’t always easy, but when you find someone you can depend on, someone who chooses you every single day, it makes all the previous heartbreak worthwhile.”

Someone you can depend on.

The words echoed in my head as applause filled the room.

“Naomi?” Christian’s voice seemed to come from far away. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

But I wasn’t fine. Panic sat in my gut. The room was spinning slightly, and I was having a hard time breathing.

The band started playing a slow song, and couples moved onto the dance floor. Christian stood, extending his hand to me with a warm smile.

“Dance with me?”

I took his hand because refusing would cause a scene, but as soon as his arms came around me on the dance floor, the walls started closing in.

He smelled like his cologne and the champagne he’d been nursing, and his body was solid and warm against mine.

Being with him was comforting and had seemed safe.

And yet, I needed to escape.

“I need to excuse myself,” I whispered up at Christian.

“Now?”

“Just for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

I pulled away before he could ask questions, maneuvering through the dancing couples toward the powder room.

The powder room was mercifully empty. I gripped the edge of the sink and stared at my reflection. My makeup was flawless, and I looked impeccable. But I was crashing. My gut was in knots, and my throat was tight like there was something lodged inside.

I dropped my head and closed my eyes.

“This is too much, my God.”

I inhaled and exhaled deep breaths.

“Get it together. You’re not that woman anymore.”

I looked back at my reflection and sadness filled me. The truth was, I wasn’t that woman anymore, but I wasn’t ready to be the woman Christian deserved either. Maybe I was stuck somewhere in between, too damaged to trust completely, yet too hopeful to give up entirely.

Journey had been right when she’d said I had to choose whether to risk being hurt again. What she hadn’t said was what to do if you realized you weren’t brave enough to take that risk.

I loved Christian. I loved him more than I’d ever loved anyone, including Gerald. But love wasn’t enough if you couldn’t trust it, couldn’t believe in its permanence, couldn’t stop waiting for it to disappoint you.

By the time I emerged from the stall, I’d drove myself crazy with these thoughts.

I stared at myself in the mirror again, seeing the truth I’d been avoiding for months.

I wasn’t ready for this. Despite all my growth, Christian’s patience, and all the beautiful moments we’d shared, I wasn’t mentally well enough to be the woman he needed.

I doubled over the sink as tears finally came.

I loved Christian enough to want him to be happy. And if I couldn’t be the woman to make him happy permanently, then the kindest thing I could do was get out of his way so he could find someone who could.

I pushed through the powder room exit and Christian was waiting outside the door. He must have been there for a while, because his expression immediately shifted from concern to alarm when he saw my face.

“Tell me what I can do to make this better?” he said.

I trembled but held myself together, drawing on strength. “This is going to sound really cliché but… it’s not you, it’s me.” I sighed. “I need to leave.”

His brows dipped and he reached for me, but I took a step back. The avoidance of his touch gave him pause, and I watched confusion settle in his eyes.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No.”

“What can I do to help?”

“You can let me leave. Just... let me go.”

We stared at each other in the hallway outside the powder room with the sounds of the reception continuing behind us. In his eyes, his confusion turned to hurt and the desperate desire to fix whatever was wrong. In mine, I knew he could see the truth I wasn’t saying.

“Naomi—”

“Please.”

We stared at one another for so long it was like we were frozen in place. Then, he stepped aside.

I walked past him, through the reception hall, past the table where our untouched dinner waited, and out the door.

When I reached the parking garage, I sat in my car and cried for the love I was walking away from and the woman I still wasn’t brave enough to be.