Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
ABBY
“ A bby, Abby!”
I glance around, the urgent voice startling me. Jenny rushes across the lawn in a heap of pale pink tulle and presents her back to me.
“Can you tie the ribbons? Mom said you’re an expert at it.”
My heart settles. Okay, it’s not actually an emergency.
“Yeah, of course.” I pick up the sash ties and put the bow back to rights. Who knows how it even got untied to begin with?
“Did you see me throwing the petals earlier? It was good, right?”
Jenny had taken her flower girl duties seriously, going so far as to practice for the last few months. The only thing is, they didn’t have an endless supply of petals at home, so Jenny used Legos instead. She was driving Kristen up the wall.
“You were the best flower girl I’ve ever seen.”
“Really?” She spins around and jumps up and down, clapping her hands. “Jamie will be so jealous.”
Oh, God. I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever sibling rivalry she has going on. “Well, he was the best ring bearer I’ve seen, too.”
Her excitement dims. “I guess. We were both pretty good.”
“You were a great team.”
“But which one of us was better?”
I sigh. “Jenny, I’m not answering that.”
I don’t know how she manages it, but she somehow gives me a sly grin even as she pouts.
“Okay, but I can tell you’re secretly thinking me.”
My lips compress, not wanting her to see me smile.
She scampers off toward where her brother is, and my gaze follows her, snagging on Grayson over by the bar set up near the house. He’s catching up with friends from high school, and though he invited me to talk with them, I begged off, wanting to sit down for a bit.
The ceremony went beautifully earlier, everything going according to plan. Afterward, we ate, then danced on the makeshift dance floor they’ve set up until my feet hurt in these heels I’m not used to wearing. Tonight has been perfect, but I can’t help the growing discontent in me.
I should be enjoying this night, soaking up the once-in-a-lifetime experience. But no matter how much I try to stay in the present moment, my mind keeps fast-forwarding to tomorrow, when all of this goes away. Like Cinderella after the ball—back to rags and a big-ass pumpkin after midnight.
What I should be focusing on is what happens tonight directly after the wedding. I invited Grayson to my bed, and with the way he’s been whispering in my ear all night, he’s more than ready.
A wave of shivers washes over me, equal parts anticipation and trepidation. I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I’ve somehow muddled through everything so far, but this is the big one. The one where I can’t hide behind bravado anymore. He’ll know, right?
Maybe… Maybe he won’t care. Some guys like sleeping with virgins.
I cringe, my face heating. That was embarrassing to even think.
Over by the bar, one of the girls in the group, Lucy, touches Grayson’s arm, smiling up at him. She had an obvious crush on him back in high school, though I don’t remember them ever dating. She’s married now, but still hanging on Grayson’s every word.
He smoothly moves his arm so she’s forced to drop her hand, and my heart warms. Not that I have any claim on him, but she better not try to mess with—
“Hi, honey. How are you doing?”
I glance over at Cheryl, who takes a seat next to me at one of the tables. Does she suspect I was thinking about her son?
“I’m good. Just resting my feet.”
“Oh, I saw you two cutting it up on the dance floor earlier.”
I smile, but don’t respond. It’s still too weird that she caught me and Grayson kissing at the winery.
“You were beautiful up there next to Kristen and the other girls.”
“Oh, thank you. Your reading during the ceremony was lovely, too.”
She waves off my praise but looks pleased. “So, where’s my son? Please don’t tell me he’s abandoned you already.”
“Oh, no.” I motion toward the bar. “He’s talking to some old friends.”
“And things are going good with you two?”
I nod, not sure how else to respond. It doesn’t seem as important to lay it on thick in front of her now that the situation between me and Grayson has changed.
“And after he leaves?”
“I don’t know.”
The words sound stupid, but what else is there to say? I knew what I was getting into.
She makes a hmm sound. “You leave that to me.”
“Oh, no—”
She cuts me off. “Don’t you worry about anything. I’ve always known you two were meant for each other.”
She absolutely did not always know that, because she’s never once hinted at anything between us. And Cheryl isn’t known for keeping her thoughts to herself. Besides, her support might actually be a point against me in Grayson’s book. He’s always stubbornly gone against whatever she says.
She saunters away before I can argue against whatever idea she has, then I roll my eyes, accepting my fate. We’re done after tomorrow, anyway.
With that nihilistic attitude, I join Grayson at the bar, slipping my hand through the crook of his arm. I swear Lucy gives me a dirty look, but I serenely smile as if I don’t notice.
Grayson asks if I want to dance again as the DJ announces it’s the last song, and leads me out to the center of the dance floor as something slow and melodic comes over the sound system.
“Looks like Operation Fake Wedding Date was a success,” he says as he wraps an arm around my back, his other hand holding mine.
“Maybe a little too successful.”
He gives me a questioning look.
“I think your mom is going to launch an offensive in my favor.”
“Ah.” He nods in understanding. “What’d she say?”
“That she’s always known we were meant for each other.”
I intended for the words to come out lighthearted, as if we’re both in on the joke, but they don’t. There’s something weighty in them, as if there might be a glimmer of truth in the notion.
Grayson is silent, no sign that he finds humor in it, either. “I’ll take care of her,” he finally says.
We’re quiet for the rest of the song, swaying back and forth to the melody. A few feet away, Harper and Owen are dancing, too, smiling at each other in a lovesick way that has my chest aching. I want that so badly. Want someone to look at me the way Owen is looking at his wife. With caring and devotion and a love that goes beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.
No. What I want is for Grayson to look at me like that.
A tear slips down my cheek, and I hastily wipe it away before he notices. No sad thoughts tonight. Not while I still have the chance to be with him.
“You ready to get out of here?” he asks when the song ends.
“Yeah.”
My stomach fills with butterflies as we make our goodbyes and head over to his car on the far side of the lawn. He opens the passenger door, his hand on the small of my back. It burns hot through the silk of my dress, and as I turn to slide into the seat, I catch the look in his eyes. It’s not the same look Owen gave Harper. There’s desire, yes, but not the same kind of soul-deep love.
“I can’t wait to peel this dress off of you.” His thumb travels over my waist, down to rub my hip bone.
His words send a rush of arousal through me, even as the hollowness in my chest expands. Harper and Kristen are going home tonight to be with men who love them. Who’d do anything for them. Who’d die for them.
I’m going to have sex with a man who’s leaving tomorrow.
I lean forward and kiss him, wanting a connection. Wishing this was the man I’m starting the rest of my life with.
He seems surprised but kisses me back before gently breaking away. “I thought you wouldn’t want anyone to know about this.”
There are still plenty of others milling about, getting in cars, taking in the last of the wedding festivities. “I don’t care if anyone knows.” And in this moment, it’s true. Sure, it could cause problems later. Questions from people I’d rather not answer. But I want Grayson, more than anything. More than he’s willing to give, if I’m being honest with myself.
“Okay.” He backs me up against the car and kisses me again, bringing me flush against him, his hand cupping the nape of my neck. He doesn’t hold back, probably giving everyone around us a show, but I don’t care about that. This is what I wanted. A public acknowledgment of what’s been developing between us. For it to be real. The kind of thing that could grow. That could be lasting.
“I’ve wanted to smear that lipstick all day,” he whispers against my lips, his hips rocking against mine. There’s a growing bulge there and a responding throb in my core.
“My place?” I ask, my voice breathless.
He nods in response and gets me situated in the passenger seat before rounding the car to drive us home. He holds my hand on the short drive back, playing with my fingers, my belly making pleasant swoops imagining what’ll happen in a few minutes. Him taking my dress off like he said he wanted to, covering me with that big body, entering me…
My palms turn sweaty. It’ll be fine, I tell myself. Out of everyone in the world, Grayson would be my first choice for this. I shouldn’t be nervous.
My hands shake slightly as I use my keys to open the door to my house, but once we’re inside, he’s kissing me again, sliding the straps of my dress down.
“Have I mentioned how phenomenal you look in this?” he asks, finding the zipper in the back.
I nod, my tongue thick in my throat.
His lips press against my neck as the zipper slides down in one fell swoop and the dress falls to the floor.
“Fuck,” he drawls, looking at me with appreciation. He must like the lingerie I picked out.
The next thing I know, I’m in his arms, being carried to my bedroom. He flicks on the dim light and sets me flat on the bed, his hands already roving my body, his lips following soon after. My bra disappears and his mouth replaces the fabric, giving gentle sucks that have me straining toward him.
His fingers are in the straps of my panties next, pulling them down, pausing by my feet to take off my shoes, too. He stands back, taking in the sight of me as he loosens his tie and takes off his jacket.
“Goddamn you’re sexy,” he murmurs, unbuttoning his shirt. “You wet for me?”
I nod, watching him disrobe. I’d like to take his clothes off myself, but if I move, I might completely lose my nerve. I want him to take control this first time. To have him show me what to do.
His pants are off now, leaving him in his boxer briefs, and as his thumbs hook in the sides, a thrill runs through me. This is it. Showtime.
His cock bobs in front of him as he stands nude before me, but I don’t get a chance to look my fill before he’s bending down, fishing around in his pants pocket for something. He pulls out three condoms, connected at the edges like they’re arcade tickets, and I blink rapidly. Three?
“What is it?” he asks, and I realize I’m gawking at him.
“Are we using all of those tonight?” I mumble. Once is crazy enough, but he wants to have sex three times?
He chuckles. “They don’t sell singles at the store. Haven’t you bought condoms before?”
I shake my head, feeling dumb.
He rips open the foil on one and puts it on, his actions easy and skilled. How many times has he put a condom on before? How many women has he had sex with? And how on earth has he not realized I’m not at his level? Is it misleading to not tell him I’m a virgin?
He climbs back on the bed, hovering over me, and kisses me again. His lips are so sure, so right, and I try my damndest to lose myself in him, the way I have before, but the rising anxiety won’t let me.
“You okay?” He leans back. “You’re shaking.”
I nod, too rapidly to be believable. “Just a little nervous.”
“We don’t have to—”
“No, I want to. I want this.”
He studies me. No, no. Don’t look closer. “What’s going on?” he asks.
Shit. He’s not going to accept a throwaway answer. “I just…” My fingers twist in the sheets underneath me. “I haven’t done this before.”
My heart is jammed up in my throat, but he doesn’t react.
“Yeah, you said you hadn’t hooked up with anyone, only had relationships.”
I swallow hard. I never said that second part. He must have filled in the blanks in a way he found reasonable. “No, I mean I’ve never had sex.”
He stares at me, silence filling the air between us. There’s a squeezing sensation in my ribs, compressing tighter and tighter until I’m sure everything inside is going to spill out as my hope that this wouldn’t be a big deal vanishes.
His face is carefully neutral, other than the tips of his ears turning red. What is he thinking?
“Please say something,” I whisper. Dear God, anything.
“We shouldn’t do this.”
Okay, anything but that.