When Stars Collide (Second Chance Romance #2) - Sara Furlong-Burr Page 0,118

the darkness. It hid the tears falling down my face well. The truth was I wasn’t okay, and it wouldn’t require an inordinate amount of perception for someone to see that. For the last month, all I could think about was my conversation-turned-fight with Peter, and his admission to me. No matter how hard I tried to push it away and live my life, that night kept coming back.

The pain and sincerity in his eyes.

The warmth of his body against mine when he hugged me at the funeral.

No, Mena. No.

I shook my head. This wasn’t fair. Not to me; certainly not to Phineas. In one night, Peter had wrecked the months of progress I’d made putting our relationship behind me.

I had done that, right? Put the relationship behind me? I thought I had.

But as I lay next to Phineas, thoughts of Peter flooded through my brain as swiftly as the tears cascaded down my cheeks, and I realized just how wrong I’d been.

*****

“Please tell me there were no shirts made for the pre-rehearsal rehearsal dinner or the rehearsal, itself.” I greeted Elle, Kirsten, and Violet outside of Geno’s, the Italian restaurant Elle and Luke selected to host their rehearsal dinner. One of Luke’s groomsmen, Salvatore, was expected back at the hospital immediately following the rehearsal tomorrow to finish his shift. To keep the wedding party together, a decision was made to have the rehearsal dinner the day before the rehearsal.

“Elle said no more shirts,” Violet lamented.

“Attack of Bridezilla, eh?” I nudged Elle, who shook her head.

“I can change my mind, you know. I’m sure Violet has the print shop on speed dial,” she replied.

“Why do I feel personally attacked here?” Violet asked.

“Well, do you, or don’t you?” Kirsten added.

“Maybe,” she muttered.

Not wasting anymore time, Elle opened the door to Geno’s. “Let’s get inside. Everyone’s waiting for us.”

“Everyone?” I asked, my stomach sinking.

“Yup.”

I purposely stayed behind the group as we walked into the Tuscan-style establishment, tastefully designed with a beamed ceiling and terracotta tile floor. Grape accents were displayed in the wall decor and etched into the furniture, adding to the overall ambiance. Quite expansive, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, and I wondered as we walked past table after table, exactly where everyone was seated. My answer was found behind a set of French doors in the back, opened by Elle to reveal a private room.

“Mena!” Jackson ran up to me the second I entered the room.

“Hey, Jack.” I crouched down to his level, throwing my arms around him.

“I thought I told you not to call me that?”

“You did, but I have a tendency not to listen to people. Just ask your father.”

“That’s an understatement.” I glanced up in the direction of Peter’s voice, finding him seated at the table between Luke and another one of Luke’s groomsmen—Connor, I think was the name Elle had mentioned. The second I saw him, my heart sped up a few beats more. As prepared as I thought I would be to see him again, I was swiftly reminded that it was impossible to prepare for this situation.

Directly across from Connor, I caught a glimpse of red hair that could only belong to Amanda. Of course, she would be here. Her son was the ring bearer and it was only polite that she be invited.

“Jackson,” Amanda called to her son. “Come back to the table.” Our eyes locked briefly as he reluctantly let go of me to rejoin his mother.

I sat down next to Elle, thankful to be seated on the same side of the table as Peter and the other members of the wedding party. With the confusion that had overtaken my brain since Peter and I last saw each other, I didn’t want to be put in the position where I had to face him. He always knew when something was bothering me, no matter how hard I tried to hide it. This way, there was no way for him to see the conflict in my eyes, or for me to see the heartache in his.

Looking around the table, I recognized most of the people seated around me. Mark and Alex were positioned at the end of the table; next to them were Luke’s parents, Candy and Tom, and four people I didn’t recognize. A middle-aged man and woman, and a younger woman with a cute little girl with tight brunette curls seated on her lap. Violet seemed to know them well enough, and their