his worried stare is a demand that I fess up—fast.
“Not right now. Vasha is—”
“Being paid for her time, so she can wait a few minutes. This is about you,” he insists. “Do you need some time alone? Or with me? Tell me. Whatever it is, I’ll make it happen.”
“Later,” I promise. “This needs more than five minutes, and everyone is staring.”
Carson glances around and realizes I’m right. He gives me a terse nod. I understand him well, so I know the jerk of his head isn’t any frustration he has with me. It’s annoyance on my behalf. He’d do most anything to make me happy…except give up the life he’s worked hard to build. I’d do the same for him, which is why I’m standing in the middle of this massive ballroom about to practice saying an “I do” I won’t utter tomorrow while I’m near tears.
“Definitely later. Whatever’s upsetting you, we’re going to talk it out.”
I send him a thankful nod. He gives me a soft press of his lips.
The gentle gesture nearly bowls me over. It makes me want to hold on to him and never let go.
Suddenly, Eryn grabs my arm and leads me to the back of the room, by the double doors leading inside. “What is going on? You act like it’s a funeral, not a wedding.”
“It’s just an emotional time.” I don’t point out that if she and West had made it this far, she would understand because, A, I’m lying about the whole situation, B, the reminder will only upset her, and C, it’s not her fault that West left just before their wedding with nothing but a terse note and an apology.
“But the emotions should be happy.”
Why is my middle sister choosing now to be sage instead of snarky?
“Lighten up, sis,” Echo thankfully butts in. “I’m sure she’ll be shitting joy tomorrow. Let her be a little worried and nervous tonight, okay?”
I grip her hand. “Thanks, brat.”
“You’re welcome, bitch.” My youngest sister winks.
By now, someone has given Vasha a microphone, and heaven help us all. She starts barking orders like a drill sergeant. No one is safe.
“Okay, groomsmen, file in from this side door.” She waits until Luis and Sam have sauntered across the low-shag carpet. Sam gives the pretty wedding planner a wink, which she completely ignores except for a roll of her eyes. “Now the groom…”
From the back of the room, I watch Carson approach his buddies. He’ll do this tomorrow. He’ll wait at the altar people have built for this sham ceremony and peer at the crowd with his counterfeit smile while they all stare back. I wonder how real his feelings will be. No doubt as real as my own.
I have to stop tripping over these maudlin thoughts. I’ve committed to this plan. I need to see it through.
Vasha calls my sisters up the makeshift aisle one at a time. She tells Eryn to slow her steps, then arranges everyone at the front, pointing out where standing flower arrangements and other items will be so no one trips. Finally, she motions me to begin my bridal walk. Shoving aside the thought that my procession now is the only time I’ll actually reach Carson’s side at the altar, I put one foot in front of the other, my heart physically aching.
Once we’re all in place, the planner and the minister both give us a few reminders, then we’re blessedly done.
Dinner is a subdued affair, and I’m sure it’s because my mood is dampening everyone else’s. Eryn and Echo flank me on one side of the table. Luis and Sam bookend Carson on the other, so there’s no privacy for us to talk. Vasha begged off because she had too much to do. Carson’s parents are no longer alive, and mine didn’t come because they couldn’t get away from work, as usual. There really was no time to invite out-of-town guests, so we’re done with the lovely seafood restaurant and wine in under ninety minutes. I wish I could say I enjoyed it, but with every second that ticks by, I just want to crawl in bed beside Carson and cry that this night will probably be our last.
“All right, man,” Luis slaps him on the back as soon as the check is paid. “Now you have to let us take you out for a proper bachelor party.”
“Complete with strippers, booze, and regret,” Sam quips.
“Yeah, sis,” Echo chimes in. “You need one last partyfest before you become a boring married broad.”
“Exactly. A few shots should help you face ’til death do us part,” Eryn says with a salty expression.
“It’s not bad at all,” Luis says, defending his married state. “In fact, it’s pretty damn wonderful.”
My middle sister snorts. An argument ensues.
I glance Carson’s way. He looks as enthusiastic about the idea of having one last rager with his peeps as I am, which is to say not at all.
“You know, guys, I don’t need to stare at a stripper and shove bills into her G-string to feel as if my bachelorhood is complete. I just want to call it a night and spend it with my girl.” He reaches across the table for my hand.
I grip it like a lifeline.
“Not acceptable,” Sam shoots back. “Besides, we were going to splurge for your lap dance in the VIP lounge from Destiny Whipped Cream or whatever her made-up name is. Only the best for you, buddy.”
“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Carson drawls.
“Ella?” Echo asks.
“You know, I think I’d rather turn in, too. A bride needs sleep to look her best on her wedding day.”
Eryn leans over and whispers in my ear. “Or maybe you need some sister time so you can talk about whatever second thoughts you’re having.”
If only. “I’m not. I just want to spend tonight with Carson. Do you need a ride back to the hotel?”
After we work out that Sam will take my sisters to the place they’re all staying at in his rental, Carson and I dash out of the restaurant. I’m eternally glad he chose an eatery that’s less than three minutes from his apartment.
As if by mutual agreement, we make nothing but small talk on the way, mostly about Vasha. He tells me that Kendra texted him some pictures from their elopement in Vegas. He hasn’t seen or heard from Gregory Shaw to know what the man’s reaction to the marriage is.
When we finally reach Carson’s place, he opens the door with a quiet click and drops his keys. My heart starts to race. My palms sweat. I still don’t know what to say. How far am I willing to go for love? Can I give up everything? Should I?
The second he shuts it, he turns to me in the dark and grabs my shoulders. “Ella?”
“I don’t want to talk right now.” I reach for the buttons of his shirt and start slipping them free, one by one.
He takes hold of my wrists to stop me. “I think we have to.”
“Not yet. I need”—to feel you one more time before we have a chat that might change everything between us forever—“you.”
Slowly, he releases me and nods. “All right, sweetheart. Because I need you, too. But we’re talking afterward.”
We exchange a glance for an uncertain moment. The silence hangs between us, and as I stare into his blue eyes, I can’t imagine never being with him again.
Then, as if we can read each other’s minds, we break the still at the same moment, each lunging for the other, arms outstretched, lips ready, hearts beating as one.
I attack the buttons of his shirt again as he grabs my face and tilts my head for a kiss that makes me shiver and robs me of thought.
“What are you doing to me?” he mutters as he comes up for air only long enough to search my face.
I don’t know what he’s looking for, but I’m betting it’s connection, desire, and love—exactly what I’m looking for on his face.
“I could ask you the same thing,” I pant.
“I used to be reasonable, logical, so damn sure.”
I nod. “And everything feels crazy now.”