Page 37

Abby’s POV

Today, my best friend gets married. It's been a whirlwind since we got back from Georgia. Last-minute things popping up here and there, flowers to pick up, and food to order. Luckily, Hannah’s the most low-maintenance person I’ve ever met.

Therefore, she's the polar opposite of Bridezilla. If I could get her to care a little more, that’d be great.

Then again, she’s not the one who freaks out if something goes off script.

She simply shrugs and says, “Is it going to keep me from marrying Greyson?” As always, the answer is, “No.” To which she responds, “Then let it go.”

I’m extremely jealous of her ability to straight up not care how she gets there, she just wants to get there.

On top of all that, the Best Man and I have been sneaking off to go to the “gym,” and instead of working out, we’ve been grabbing breakfast. When Hannah stays at Greyson’s, Tate will come over, and we’ll make dinner and watch movies.

It’s nice. A new normal that is slowly replacing the old one.

I understand him a bit more now, the more time we spend together, the more I discover just how wrong I was.

His trust issues rival my control issues.

Put ‘em together and what do you get? A mess. You get a mess. I don’t think I’d have it any other way, though.

The stud of my earring pushes through my ear when there’s a knock on the door.

“Come in,” I yell, and I grab the other earring off the nightstand.

The door pushes open, and in walks Tate, in a freaking tux.

Our eyes meet in the mirror, and suddenly I’m struggling to breath e.

What a way this would be to go... His pants look like leggings with how perfectly they contour to his legs.

His white button-down shirt is currently rolled up to his elbows, showcasing his delectable forearms. The same forearms that wrap around my waist at night.

The ones I trace over when I’m trying to turn my brain off so I can fall asleep.

He quietly shuts the door, locking it behind him.

I watch his shoulders hike up to his ears, then fall before he turns back to face me.

Our eyes lock through the mirror again, my hands falling from my ear to hang by my sides.

He takes four steps into the room before I feel him pressed against my back.

His hands find my hips as his lips kiss my bare shoulder, then travel up my neck, stopping just behind my ear.

“You look stunning.” His breath fans across my skin, sending a jolt of excitement through my body.

I lean further into him, resting my head on his shoulder while we stare at our reflection.

It’s beautiful, we’re beautiful, scars and all.

I turn to face him, my hands trail up his chest as I wrap my finger in his chain and pull his face down to mine.

“It should be illegal for you to look so good in a tux, Sunshine. It’s giving me all sorts of ideas.

” Placing a soft kiss on his lips, his hands tighten on my hips.

He backs me up into the wall, hands moving from my hips to the sides of my neck, a feral look in his eyes displays all that we’re both feeling.

“Can I ruin your lipstick? Please?” Laughing, I put us both out of our misery as I lift up on my toes, closing the remaining distance between us.

His lips slam into mine with a ferocity I’ve only ever seen from him once.

It’s not the sweet kind of kiss. It’s all teeth, tongue, and passion.

It’s quite possibly the hottest kiss I’ve ever had, one that has me taking control, pushing hard at his sh oulders until he stumbles backwards, continuing until the back of his knees hit the bed, causing him to fall flat on his back. Mission accomplished.

Hiking the bottom of my dress up, I climb on top of him, my legs on either side of his hips as I take in the way his eyes glisten in the light coming in through the curtains.

“You can ruin a lot more than my lipstick. But I’m not sure now is the time.

” I lean over, giving him a soft kiss to my favorite spot on the underside of his jaw.

“But, the lovebirds leave tomorrow for two weeks.” I kiss the other side.

“I have a feeling there will be a whole lot of ‘ruining’ happening during that time.”

As I lean in to kiss him a third time, he flips us so I’m on my back.

The squeak that leaves me has a malicious smile spreading across his face as he brushes the tip of his nose up my cheek.

“Yeah, I’ll be ruining you for anyone else.

” His hands travel up my sides, stopping to collect mine on the way.

Our fingers intertwine as he brings them above my head, his face mere inches from my own.

“You’re mine, Tink. And I’ve never been good at sharing,” he says before groaning into the crook of my neck.

“You in this dress,” His lips trace the neckline, “Are you trying to kill me?” My body shakes with laughter, causing him to move on top of me.

Pulling his head from my neck, he looks down at me with one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, you think this is funny, huh?” Without warning, he lets go of my hands and starts tickling me.

My laugh is loud. I wouldn’t be surprised if someone came knocking to figure out why I’m screeching like a velociraptor.

“Tate! NO! No, it’s not funny, I’m sorry.

” I kick and squirm under him, but there is absolutely no real fight behind it.

I love being here, not the tickle part, but under his complete, undivided attention. He makes me feel seen, loved, safe.

His smile stops my heart, and I freeze at the sight. It’s so unguarded, so free, so unlike the man I knew, yet so like the man I’ve come to know. God, he’s beautiful. Knock knock. His eyes shoot to the door before flicking back to mine.

“Abby, are you okay? You were supposed to be in with Hannah a few minutes ago. It’s almost time.” Amy Wilder’s voice comes through the door.

Clearing my throat, I place a hand on Tate’s shoulder and sit up slightly. “I’m fine, Amy. Just trying to find my earring. I’ll be right there.” My eyes never stray from the stormy blue ones in front of me.

“Okay, sweetheart,” she says, then there’s nothing but her heels clicking down the hallway.

I press my hand a little harder into him so that I can get up, but he doesn’t move; his eyes hold mine hostage.

My right hand finds his cheek, thumb brushing over the stubble before trailing over the patch of freckles, “I look forward to you ruining me, handsome.” I kiss his lips before pulling back and rolling him off me.

He’s momentarily stunned because he hasn’t moved even though I have both feet shoved in these God forsaken heels.

My hand is inches from the door when his hand wraps around my left wrist.

He tugs, turning me around into his chest, and places a soft kiss on my forehead.

He slowly pulls the door open and walks down the hallway, feet clacking against the stairs as he goes.

I let out a long breath, my shoulders sag as I stare at the open door.

Things have been good, almost too good, since the Nikki incident.

My brothers have ruled out the idiots from college's involv ement in whatever is going on. But they’ve been watching Nikki too, and haven’t found anything incriminating.

Which just makes this all that much more confusing.

Today isn’t the day to dwell on that, though; it’s time to watch my bestie get married.

Running my hands down the front of my dress, I press my palms firmly against the fabric, trying to rid myself of any evidence of what just happened.

I draw in a deep breath, forcing my shoulders back, and make my way to the master suite where Hannah and her mom have been getting ready.

The moment the door pushes open, all the chaos in my head disappears.

My hand flies to my mouth, a gasp escaping before I can stop it.

She’s breathtaking.

Hannah stands in front of a full length mirror, her hands wringing in front of her, eyes wide with a look mixed with joy and disbelief. Like she finally sees herself like the rest of us always have, beautiful, kind, and worthy of all the good things life has to offer her.

Her long, red hair falls down her back in perfect curls.

Her dress is a dream. It flows from the white off the shoulder bodice, cinching delicately at her waist before cascading into an ethereal, weightless skirt that moves at the tiniest shift of her stance.

The sleeves drape softly over her arms, meeting the bodice where the beadwork glimmers like tiny droplets of water catching the light.

I can hear her mom’s voice in my head, saying how the beads sparkle remind her of “kisses of the sea.”

It’s perfect. She’s perfect. Greyson is going to lose his ever-l oving mind.

“You look gorgeous, Han.” My voice is softer than I intended, laced with something fragile. The loss of my friend, the knowledge that when she comes home from her honeymoon, all her stuff will be gone, and I’ll be alone for the first time in over a decade.

Her eyes meet mine in the mirror, brimming with emotion. Her lips part, and for a second, she doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t have to, though. Because in this quiet moment, it’s not about me. It’s about her. And that is something I can hold onto.

“I do.” Hannah squeals out, with a smile so wide I’m surprised her face hasn’t split open yet.

Greyson has been crying since she walked down the aisle, not even trying to hide the effect she has on him.

His suit is a navy version of the black tux that Tate is wearing.

His hair has been freshly cut, giving him that “bad boy” vibe, even though that man is the biggest teddy bear I know.

It’s still long enough that it hangs in front of his forehead, but doesn’t cover his eyes.

He jumped in on the “how long can we grow our hair this season” competition that Reed and Monroe have going on.

Hannah turned on the puppy dog eyes and asked him to cut it for today.

She wanted to be able to run her fingers through it instead of getting stopped by a hair tie.

Sucker can’t say no to her to save his life.

Their vows were beautiful, both fully painting the other and all they’ve overcome perfectly.

Their love is pure and contagious every day, but today, it’s blinding.

Out in full force with no apologies. I bite into my cheek with a bit more force than necess ary as my eyes are pulled toward the Best Man.

His are focused on the back of his brother’s head, eyes misty as he tries to keep up the facade that he’s unbothered.

I wonder what he’s thinking? I wonder if he’s imagining me up there the way I’m imagining him.

Would he feed me line after line of poetic genius like Greyson did for Hannah?

Or would he keep it short and to the point?

Would he cry as I walked down the aisle, or would a frown be deeply set on his face?

Then like a sucker punch I didn’t see coming, the realization that I’m imagining marrying the man across from me hits.

What the hell?! We aren’t even together for real.

I mean, he hasn’t asked me to be his girlfriend or anything. ..

Is that still a thing when you’re almost thirty? Do they still have to ask, or is it just an implication at that point? Is it like a “Hey, I like you, you like me... Let’s only see each other, yeah?” Or what? Oh good Lord, I’m freaking pathetic.