after mine.”
He’s trying to cheer me up, and I appreciate the effort, but… “Eww. Fuck off.”
My brother laughs. “C’mon. Let’s go see if we can help. And if you need to talk, you know where to find me.”
Since being helpful is better than moping and wondering what Masey is thinking, I follow my older brother.
Jesus, I need to man up.
Evan isn’t making any headway with the sound system, so I pitch in. Between the two of us, we get Keeley warming up to sing the bride up the aisle. Noah helps round up the attendants—Harlow, Nia, and Asher’s fiancée, Samantha—and coaxes them into place.
One minute it seems as if pandemonium will win the day. The next, the sun inches near the horizon, lighting up the sky in a breathtaking riot of vivid colors, as if the universe knows the wedding of two amazing people is about to start. Then suddenly, everyone finds their place, a string quartet strikes up classical music, and the attendants make their way up the aisle to wait opposite Clint and his groomsmen.
Beside me, I feel Masey tense as Keeley begins singing Christina Perri’s “A Thousand Years.” I take her hand to soothe and reassure her as Bethany glides up the aisle in a white confection of lace and mesh that hugs every curve, reveals half her thighs, a good deal of her cleavage—and has the groom’s eyes popping. And yet, she looks regal with her pale upswept hair, simple veil, and contented smile.
The ceremony is short and heartfelt. And other than Clint’s brother Bret checking out his new sister-in-law’s assistant in the second row and needing a nudge to pass the groom the ring, it goes off without a hitch.
After a moving tribute by Clint and his brothers for their father, who encouraged his oldest son to meet Bethany the day he unexpectedly passed away, the groom plants a longer-than-strictly-polite kiss on his wife’s lips. Then, laughing to the strains of American Authors’ upbeat number “Best Day of My Life,” they run back down the beautiful petal-strewn runner, hand in hand.
Twenty minutes later, pictures are done, and everyone is assembling under the extended lanai out front, near the makeshift dance floor. As soon as Clint and Bethany have finished their first turn around the floor, the deejay invites everyone to join in. I pull Masey into the least-crowded corner of the designated dance space.
She tries to demur. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“I’m barely passable. I just want to hold you.”
Thankfully, the music gods play along, spinning a soulful song I’ve never heard the deejay tells us is called “Best Part.” It’s perfect for this moment. Masey feels like my water when I’m stuck in the desert. Then Daniel Caesar begs his woman to say something if she loves him. Dude, I so, so relate. He goes on to croon that if she’s a movie, she’s the best part. I sigh. I’m still waiting to find out whether Masey will be my happily ever after…or my ultimate tragedy.
Fuck, I have to stop this maudlin shit.
Instead, I turn my focus on Masey, swaying to the beat, caressing her back, and pressing a kiss to her forehead.
“Trace?”
Her voice sounds like it’s shaking, and I frown. “Yeah, honey?”
“What are you doing?” I hear her fear. “You’re ruining me.”
“Or maybe I just don’t want you good for anyone else.”
“Trace, what’s happening with us? It’s crazy.”
“It is, but I can’t stop myself.”
She bites that pretty lip, and her blue eyes fill with tears. “I don’t know if I can, either. I’ve tried. I’ve tried so hard…”
My heart stops. Jesus, I’m hoping this is it, the moment her walls break. I hope like fuck she’s ready to admit she’s mine. But I’m stuck in the middle of a goddamn crowd, at least an hour away from gathering my son, my car, and my woman and getting them all back to my place.
Fuck.
“Come with me.” I lead Masey off the dance floor, toward the house.
“Where are we going?”
“Anywhere.”
But she’s got a good point. Where the hell am I taking her?
I scan the yard on my way up to the house. The wedding was a small one, but suddenly it seems as if there are people everywhere. I whisk her inside the main house, where I’m hoping like hell to find a romantic spot so we can tuck ourselves away. All I see is Britta and her mother prepping more appetizers. A few feet away, the bartender frantically mixes drinks. There’s pandemonium everywhere.
Son