9. Seth
SETH
Iloosened my tie for what must have been the fourth time since leaving the hotel.
The top button of my linen shirt was already undone, but after a moment of hesitation, I tugged the knot down another inch and studied my reflection in the glass pane beside the front door.
It still felt too casual, too careless.
With a quiet sigh, I pushed it back up again, not all the way, just enough that it looked respectable. Normal.
Not for the first time that morning, I found myself wondering what the hell I was doing standing outside the Seabrook Estate.
The sprawling beachfront property sat unchanged. White-painted columns framed the entrance, ivy trailed along the stone walls as if it had always been there and always would be.
Beyond the house, I could hear the steady crash of waves rolling in from the beach below.
A few guests were already arriving behind us, their laughter carrying across the circular driveway as they made their way inside.
Staying at the hotel had been the right choice.
Gabby had offered rooms at the estate, even one of the beach villas they had rented for the wedding party, but those places were meant for family and VIP guests. I wasn’t either of those things.
More importantly, the boutique hotel Dane and I booked gave me somewhere to retreat at the end of the day.
Somewhere quiet, where I didn’t have to keep bracing myself, wondering who I might run into every time I stepped outside my room.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I didn’t quite know what had possessed me to say yes to a wedding filled with people I had spent years carefully avoiding.
A warm hand closed around mine. I didn’t realise I had been twisting the hem of my jacket between my fingers again.
Dane’s thumb brushed lightly over my knuckles.
“You want me to ring the bell?” he asked.
There wasn’t even a hint of judgment in his expression. He didn’t pressure me to go in or suggest we could still turn around. Just a steady calmness, like whatever I chose next was entirely up to me.
Somehow, that made it easier.
I shook my head and reached past him, pressing the bell myself. A few moments later, the door opened. A young woman in a navy dress and a wedding staff badge greeted us with a polite smile.
“Welcome. Names, please?”
We gave them, and she checked something on a tablet before stepping aside.
“The welcome reception is already underway on the back lawn. I can have someone escort you there.”
“It’s okay,” I said quickly. “I know the way.”
The house was almost exactly as I remembered it. The same oversized sofas still occupied the formal sitting room.
Framed family photos still lined the mantel above the fireplace. In the glass cabinet near the staircase, Gabby’s collection of miniature silver spoons still sat neatly displayed.
Even the faint dent in the crown molding at the far corner of the living room was still there, barely noticeable unless you knew to look for it.
It had come from a football Darryl and I had thrown too close to the ceiling back in our sophomore year. The house really hadn’t changed much. I wasn’t sure why that surprised me.
There were quicker routes to the back lawn. I could have cut through the kitchen or taken the hallway past the library.
Instead, I followed the flow of guests, weaving through clusters of people already gathering inside. Judging by the number of voices, it sounded like most of the guests had already arrived.
My stomach gave a small, uneasy twist. Were we late?
I found myself reaching for the edge of my jacket again. Dane’s fingers tightened around mine just before I could start fidgeting.
I looked down at our joined hands, then slowly around the room. Only then did something obvious click into place. There wasn’t a single person wearing a tie.
“Oh no,” I muttered.
“What?” Dane’s attention sharpened immediately.
“Take off your tie.”
His eyes flicked across the room again, scanning the crowd properly this time. “Oh.”
I was already fumbling with my own tie, but the knot refused to cooperate no matter how I tried to loosen it.
The collar of my shirt caught at the wrong angle, my fingers slipping in ways that only seemed to make things worse, and after a few increasingly determined attempts, I felt Dane gently catch my wrists.
“Give me that,” he said. His mouth twitched slightly as he took in the mess I had made. “You’re only making it worse.”
With infuriating ease, he loosened the knot and slipped the tie free. He rolled it neatly and put it inside his jacket pocket.
His hands returned to me, smoothing down the hair I had messed up in the struggle. His touch lingered briefly near my temple before sliding lower, his fingers resting just beneath my ear.
For a second, maybe two, I became painfully aware of every point of contact between us.
“There,” he said quietly.
I cleared my throat. “Thanks.”
His eyes stayed on mine a little longer than necessary, and then, as if nothing had happened at all, he stepped back.
I forced my attention elsewhere, but it didn’t stay there for long. The moment I actually looked at him properly, I realized what I had been trying not to notice.
The light copper linen shirt he was wearing brought out the blue in his eyes more than usual.
His khaki jacket sat perfectly across his shoulders, the fabric shifting naturally when he moved, and the cut of his trousers did nothing to distract from the strength in his legs.
My gaze slipped briefly before I caught myself and looked away again.
“You look nice,” I said.
One corner of his mouth lifted. “Only just noticed?”
Heat rose straight to my face. His grin widened, clearly pleased, and then he let his attention drift away from me toward the rest of the house.
Blue hydrangeas filled oversized arrangements along the hallway and spilled into visible reception spaces beyond.
Blue ribbons had been woven along railings, and pale blue linens covered tables set just out of sight through the open doors leading toward the back of the estate.
“You know,” Dane said thoughtfully, “if this were our wedding…”
I blinked. “Our?”
“Or mine. Whatever.”
That somehow made it worse than it should have.
“I’d use less blue.”
I stared at him. “That’s your complaint?”
“There are at least seven different shades going on out here,” he said, completely serious.
“It’s a beach wedding.”
“Exactly.” He leaned in slightly then, just enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath near my ear. “Blue? At a beach wedding? They’re really taking risks.”
The sound that came out of me wasn’t quite a proper laugh, but I hoped it passed for one anyway.
Thankfully, a familiar face emerged from the crowd.
Glen spotted us almost immediately, his face lighting up the moment he did. He intercepted a passing waiter, plucked two champagne flutes from the tray, and made a direct line toward us.
“Seth.”
His gaze shifted between me and Dane as he handed us the glasses, then narrowed as if something had only just occurred to him.
“Wait a second. Why aren’t you wearing one of the suits I brought you?”
I nearly choked on my champagne. Beside me, I could feel Dane’s attention sharpen in a way that was entirely too focused on my answer.
“It was a little big,” I said, recovering quickly. “And honestly, I didn’t feel that comfortable in it.”
Dane slid an arm around my waist. He was really getting good at that. “What he’s wearing now suits him better.”
I became acutely aware of the weight of his hand at my side. Glen’s eyes flicked down, and I felt Dane’s fingers tighten just slightly, subtle enough that no one else would notice, but enough that I did.
I chose to ignore whatever was going on between them, looking instead for any sign of Gabby in the crowd.
She was coming out from the direction of the kitchen, talking over her shoulder to a woman carrying a clipboard and what looked like three separate seating charts.
Gabby stepped fully onto the lawn mid-conversation, then stopped the moment she noticed me. Her face broke into a smile almost instantly.
“There you are!”
The wedding planner was immediately demoted to someone else’s problem as Gabby turned sharply and pointed at Glen.
“You. Go help your cousin figure out why the welcome gift bags are in the wrong room.”
Glen blinked in offended disbelief. “How do you know I wasn’t already doing something important?”
“Because you’re just standing here.”
He let out a long-suffering sigh. Before Glen left, he glanced between me and Dane once more, as if weighing something he ultimately decided not to say, and then disappeared into the crowd.
The moment he was gone, Gabby crossed the space between us and pulled me into a hug.
It was the kind I remembered from when I was younger. Too tight to politely endure, impossible to breathe through properly, and somehow completely wonderful.
“Oh, sweetheart.”
For a moment, I was too surprised to react properly, my arms hanging awkwardly before I finally wrapped them around her.
“I’ve missed you,” I said quietly.
“I’ve missed you too.”
When she finally pulled back, her hands stayed on my shoulders as if she wasn’t quite ready to let go of me yet.
She studied my face for a long moment, her expression soft but attentive in a way that made me suddenly aware of how closely she was looking at me.
“You look well,” she said at last. “So much like your mother.”
Gabby had known my mom since they were in high school.
Some of my earliest memories were of the two of them sitting at our kitchen table or out on the back porch, coffee mugs in hand, talking for hours while I sat nearby drawing lopsided dinosaurs.
After my mom died, Gabby stayed in a way I didn’t know how to process back then.
She came by every week for months, sometimes with food, sometimes groceries, sometimes just sitting with me so I wasn’t alone.
“She’d be very proud of you,” she added more softly.
I looked away, my gaze drifting toward the ocean. The water caught the light in scattered flashes, and a warm breeze moved through the flowers, shifting ribbons and petals in soft motion.
“Thank you,” I said quietly.