Chapter 29
Twenty-Nine
Tabitha
The song shifts—something slower, sweeter—and I’m still moving, but it’s more like swaying now. Less dancing, more drifting. My friends are all around me, laughing and singing along, passing a bottle between them. I smile. I laugh. I pretend I’m fine.
But he’s gone.
He said the words so quietly, like they cost him something.
I can’t give you what you need.
Then he turned and walked off the dance floor, back into the shadows where he always seems to live. Like I was the one who got too close to the fire, and now he’s making sure I don’t get burned.
I reach for another sip of something—I’m not even sure what it is anymore—and it’s warm, too sweet, too fast. Everything inside me starts to feel fuzzy at the edges.
The laughter around me grows louder but somehow farther away. Like it’s all happening behind glass. I blink. My hands feel too light. My body not quite mine. The floor under my bare feet doesn’t feel solid anymore. Just soft. Slippery.
I catch sight of him again. Not in real life—just in my head. Those stormy blue eyes. That mouth. The way he looked at me like he wanted me, like he was fighting it with every breath.
I spin again, slower this time, and the stars overhead blur into long streaks of light.
“Hey,” someone says beside me. A hand touches my elbow. “You okay?”
I nod…or try to. But the motion sends a wave of dizziness crashing through me.
Maybe it’s the wine.
Maybe it’s him.
Or maybe I’m just tired of wanting someone who keeps walking away.
I smile through the spinning and mutter something about fresh air, stumbling a little as I step off the dance floor. The night feels too big now. Too wide. Like I could fall into it and not find my way back.
But I keep walking because stopping feels like surrender.
And I’m not ready to fall apart.
Not yet.
The next morning…
Ugh.
I should have puked last night.
Now I have to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for the wedding this afternoon, and I’m completely hungover.
As much as I want to collapse on the bedsheets and get lost in the throbbing pain of my head, I know I can’t. I force myself out of bed, placing a hand on the wall for balance as the room spins.
“Okay, Tabitha. You got this,” I mumble to myself, squinting against the harsh sunlight filtering in through the window.
I amble to the bathroom, lean over the sink, and splash cold water onto my face. The sudden chill helps slightly with my disorientation.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror and grimace at my reflection. Red-rimmed raccoon eyes, pale face, and hair like a bird’s nest.
“Gorgeous,” I say sarcastically.
With a sigh, I start my routine. Shower, dress, and drag myself to the kitchen where Marjorie, Angie, and Sage are having breakfast.
Thank God, Henry isn’t there. At least not yet.
I give them a weak smile and slide into a chair. The strong scent of freshly brewed java hits me, and I crinkle my nose. Usually, it’s soothing, but today, it’s making my stomach churn.
“Breakfast, Miss Tabitha?” Anya asks.
The mention of food spurs my stomach into a nasty cramp. But I’ve got to eat something.
“Maybe just some toast,” I tell her. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” She turns back to the counter.
“Are you okay?” Marjorie asks. “You look a little…”
“Green,” Sage supplies.
Great. Just great.
I turn to Angie. “I’m fine. I promise.”
She smiles. “I’m not worried. This is going to be the most beautiful day of my life.”
I return her smile. Or try to. “Yeah, it sure will be.”
Angie rises and gestures to me. “Come on. Girl talk.”
“I’m a girl.” Sage pouts.
“Med school stuff,” Angie says as she leads me out of the kitchen.
We end up in her room.
“What?” I ask, swallowing. I really want to get back to my glass of water. And my toast. And then I need to throw up.
“You and Henry,” she says. “On the dance floor. He was looking at you like…”
I clear my throat. “Like what?”
“Like he used to look at Darlene,” she says. “Only more intense.”
A jolt of discomfort rushes through me at the mention of Darlene. A bitter mix of jealousy and sadness gnaws at my insides, making my already unsteady stomach churn even more.
And it’s not because I’m jealous of his ex. It’s because I want to know why he looked at her the same way he looked at me last night, but why I got the brush-off when she got to date him for years.
Whatever. I’m over it, and I’m over him.
Except…I’m not. Ugh.
“Angie, I…” What am I trying to say? When I can’t find the words, I just shake my head.
Angie gives my arm a gentle squeeze. Her eyes hold understanding.
“I know, Tabs,” she says softly. “But what happened last night? You both looked…different.”
Different? I force a chuckle that sounds hollow even to my own ears.
“Different can mean so many things,” I say, avoiding her gaze.
Any other day, I would appreciate her concern, but today isn’t any ordinary day. It’s her wedding day, and Henry is her brother and her future husband’s best man.
Not the time to confess my two quickies.
Not the time to tell her I think I’m falling for him…and he can’t seem to get far enough away from me.
“Tabitha”—Angie’s voice breaks through my thoughts—“you don’t have to hide it from me. You’re my friend, and I want you to be happy.”
My heart constricts in my chest, and I recognize the raw honesty in her eyes. She means every word she says, and that makes it even more difficult to hold back the truth.
“I…” I start, but the words get stuck in my throat. A lump forms, threatening to choke me. “Today is about you, Ang. So let’s forget about me. All I need is my coffee and toast. Then I’ll relax until Willow and her assistant get here to do our hair and makeup. Everything is fine. I promise.”
She gives me a small nod, her lips pressing together in a tight line. She doesn’t push further, and for that, I’m grateful.
“I understand,” she says softly. “Come on. Let’s get you that coffee. But first, a heavy dose of ibuprofen and a large glass of water.”
She heads into her bathroom and returns with a glass of water and four pills. “Come on. Take them. Doctor’s orders.”
I take the glass and the medication from her and swallow the pills along with a few gulps of water.
“All of it,” she commands.
I drink the entire glass of water until I feel like I’ll float away. I hand the glass back to Angie. She returns it to her bathroom, and we head back to the kitchen.
Where Henry is now, drinking coffee and looking all too fresh and handsome for this early hour.
He takes a last gulp of coffee and rises. “I’m off,” he says. “Got an appointment.”
“This morning?” Marjorie asks. “On a Saturday? Your sister’s wedding day?”
“I’ll be back in time for everything,” he says.
And he leaves, not even looking at me once.