Chapter 23
Giddy energy surged through me as I stood at the altar and watched my friend say I do to his beautiful bride, but my eyes kept drifting to Rose, who sat a few rows back.
Her hair was swept into a loose updo with tendrils falling around her face.
The pale pink dress cut low, showcasing her beautiful tits.
The spaghetti straps were the only thing in my way of getting her naked.
And I would get her naked.
We had a lot of time to catch up on. I inhaled deeply, the sound of the pastor blurring as my focus remained on Rose. My sweet, beautiful Rose.
I had wanted so desperately to win her back and was willing to give it my all today. I did not expect her to drop her towel and confess she needed me. God, those words were like the most beautiful song, filling my soul and giving me my life back.
Still, we hadn’t actually talked.
The chemistry that pulled us together, our bodies syncing, was never the problem.
And the problems that led us to this moment still existed.
She wanted to be standing up here with me one day in front of our friends.
She wore a dress that could never outdo her beauty but would complement it.
She wanted me to slide a ring on her finger and declare in front of our friends and family that I would honor and obey her.
Love her through sickness and in health.
Didn’t she understand?
I’d do all of those things, and we didn’t need a piece of metal gliding over her knuckle to prove that. Even if she realized, she wanted me more than she wanted this elaborate display, who was to say she wouldn’t one day slip back into wanting what I just couldn’t give her?
I exhaled, my shoulders slumping forward as the pastor announced the happy couple, husband and wife. Chris dipped Cynthia, and cheers erupted. I threw my fist in the air to join the celebration, but the happiness I had felt only moments ago had already fled.
I had Rose back, but for how long?
We definitely needed to talk. But for now, we partied.
I followed the wedding party down the aisle, waving to Rose, then hooking arms with the bride’s cousin, whom I had been paired with.
Lori was forty-one, a gynecologist by day and a wife and mom at all times with not one, not two, but three kids.
She also told me she could drink me under the table and beat me in a dance-off.
The way she dragged us to the bridal party room and straight to the tray of cocktails made me believe her. She handed me something pink and held hers up. “Cheers,” she declared, clinked her glass with mine, and downed it in one gulp.
I stared at her, mouth agape. “Wow,” I said. “You have left me with not a single doubt, and I would be a fool to try to outdrink you.”
“You’re already throwing in the towel?”
I held my hands up, the pink drink firmly in my right hand.
“I know a losing bet when I see one.” I brought the drink to my mouth and took a sip.
My lip recoiled, and my tongue darted out at not only the tartness of whatever the hell I just put in my mouth, but the sheer sucker punch of vodka.
“Jesus, this is stronger than it looks. You didn’t even flinch. ”
“I pushed three kids out of me. Not much rattles me anymore. And since I have a babysitter tonight, I’m having some fun.” She patted my chest before grabbing another deadly pink concoction. “You’ll understand one day.”
A laugh flew out of me with the speed of a missile. “Kids? Me? Not in a million years.”
“No? Here I pictured you coaching Little League, embarrassing your kid in the school pickup line, and being the PTA moms’ worst nightmare.”
I snorted and shook my head. “Hard pass.”
Lori laughed before taking a smaller sip of the drink. “Everyone says that.”
“No, I mean it.” I followed Lori’s lead and took a cautious sip of the drink. Still terrible. “I like my life quiet and free of responsibility.”
Her green eyes studied me. “At least you know what you like.”
“I do even if society thinks we all should be sporting dad jeans and New Balances by the time we’re thirty.”
“Hey, my husband looks amazing in his dad jeans. And New Balances have nice arch support.”
“Really? Maybe I should look into a pair then. My right foot cramps.” I stopped myself. “Did I just turn old?”
“You’re as old as you feel.” Lori downed the rest of her drink. “And I’m feeling twenty-two!”
“Did you just quote Taylor Swift?”
“Hell yeah, I did.”
A smile tugged at my lips, and my chest tightened when my eyes caught on Rose just outside the bridal suite.
She spoke to Cynthia, her hand resting absently on her stomach as she laughed at something Cynthia said.
It was nothing. Just a gesture. But the sight lodged somewhere deep and uncomfortable.
Kids weren’t part of my future.
They had never been.
Rose didn’t want them either, but she also hadn’t wanted marriage.
Until she had.
I wanted Rose. God, I wanted her more than anything. But that didn’t mean I was willing to rewrite myself. Rewire my entire belief system. She knew exactly who I was. I had never lied to her about it.
My dad walked out on me. He proved he couldn’t handle the pressure of being a husband and a father. I had his DNA; who was to say I wouldn’t fall into the same pattern?
Lori followed my line of sight. “Rose is a sweetheart,” she said. “At the bridal party, she colored with my daughter, and they bonded over the color purple.”
“It’s Rose’s favorite.”
“My daughter’s, too.”
“She’s always been good with kids. Her nephew adores her.”
“Some people just have that energy.”
“Doesn’t mean it’s what they want.”
Her gaze flicked back to me as if she’d caught something between the lines. “It doesn’t.”
Laughter and music drifted in from the reception hall, and I forced down another sip, bracing myself this time.
Across the room, Rose laughed again. Her hand fell from her stomach as she leaned closer to Cynthia. The moment passed, and it meant nothing. Rose had said nothing about kids.
I just wasn’t built for that life. The responsibility, the pressure, the fear of turning into the man who walked away and never looked back.
I couldn’t be him.
“For what it’s worth, knowing what you want and don’t want doesn’t make you a bad guy. It’s respectful, actually.” Lori gently clinked her glass against mine and winked. “I expect you to put on a show for the people.
“We have to give them what they want.”
The doors to the reception hall opened. Rose and Cynthia disappeared inside. I stood with Lori and the rest of the bridal party, waiting for the DJ to announce us. Lori and I shared a few suggestions, but we decided we were going to wing it.
The first pair were ushered in, then the next, then it was time for our entrance.
I bounced in place, letting the music run through my veins. This was my moment, and I knew everyone would be waiting to see what Wyatt had in store this time.
My name echoed through the hall, and I turned to Lori.
“Ready?” she asked.
“I was born for this.” I downed the rest of the cocktail and let out a whoop, even though I think I burned my esophagus.
“That’s what my husband said right before he tripped over the fog machine at our wedding.”
“You had a fog machine! No way.”
“Come on.” Lori grabbed my arm, and we burst through those doors with the cool confidence only a pink drink with too much vodka could provide.
Lori spun once for flair, and I pointed finger guns, firing like I was trying to win a prize at a carnival. Lori dropped low, twerking, and I threw myself on the floor, worming my way across the dance floor as she then pretended to ride me like a horse. Her arm lassoed above her.
I pushed to my feet, my eyes immediately finding Rose across the dozen-plus tables. She shook her head, laughing, that familiar look on her face that told anyone who looked her way that she knew exactly what she had signed up for, and she loved every second of it.
My heart warmed, and the desire to make her happy in all the ways I was capable overpowered every ounce of me.
The rest of the bridal party came out, and we all formed a line for the bride and groom to run through. As soon as the theatrics were done, I went right to Rose.
“How’d I do?” I asked, plopping on the seat beside her.
She leaned in, kissing me as if we hadn’t just come out the other side of a nightmare separation. “Best entrance to date.”
“To date?” I exclaimed. “Even better than the Will and Carlton dance to Apache?”
She tilted her head and tapped her lip. “That was pretty epic.”
“Or what about when we recreated the Dirty Dancing lift, and you nearly took out the DJ booth?”
“Only because you almost dropped me,” she exclaimed and swatted my hand. “I wouldn’t call that epic as much as I would call it a near-death experience.”
“Details,” I said, waving it off. “The people loved it.”
“They loved that I survived.”
I slipped my arm around her waist and leaned into her. “I’m happy you survived, too. I’d never be able to forgive myself if you got hurt.”
She turned toward me, a slight smile touching her lips. “You didn’t, though. You managed to save me.”
My eyes bored into hers, locking in and letting the world around us fade. “I always will.”
The DJ cranked the music, the bride and groom rushed onto the dance floor, and Rose grabbed my hand. “Come on. Show me what else you got.”
I pushed to my feet and offered an exaggerated bow. “Careful what you wish for, Grasso.”
She laughed, leading me toward the gyrating bodies and the spinning flower girl.
“I don’t think you’re ready for this,” I said, clapping my hands together and electric sliding my way to the center of the crowd.
Rose joined me, not skipping a beat or missing a step.
“Wyatt!” Chris bellowed, joined in by the rest of our college buds.
I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, sliding them into place. With my party-boy persona in full swing, I threw my arms up and got swept into the chaos.