Seth
Iwoke with the distant sound of waves beyond the hotel balcony doors. For a few seconds, I couldn't remember where I was. Then everything settled back into place: the welcome party, the rehearsal dinner I'd skipped, and Dane.
My eyes stayed closed as I sank deeper into the mattress. Every muscle in my body felt heavier than it should have been.
The mattress dipped beside me. "Morning."
I cracked one eye open.
Dane was already awake, propped against the headboard with a cup of coffee in his hand. Sunlight spilled through the gap in the curtains behind him, outlining his shoulders in gold.
"What time is it?"
"Almost nine."
I groaned, burying my face deeper into the pillow.
"How are you feeling today?" he asked.
I considered it for a moment. Yesterday had been uncomfortable in places, but nowhere near as bad as I'd built it up to be in my head.
Seeing everyone again had been strange, emotional, and exhausting in ways I'd expected and in ways I hadn't, but I'd survived it.
"I think I'm okay," I admitted. "Tired."
"Understandable."
Tomorrow we'd be heading home. It was a small reassurance. Just one more day, and then things could go back to normal.
Whatever “normal” was supposed to look like now.
Unfortunately, that thought immediately dragged my attention toward memories I'd been successfully avoiding since waking up.
Last night had happened. Neither of us regretted it, and that was enough for now.
Eventually we’d have to figure out what it meant, but eventually wasn’t today. Today was the wedding. Everything else could wait.
"You know," Dane said after a moment, "we don't have to stay for everything."
I glanced up at him. "What do you mean?"
His expression softened slightly. "We can just do the ceremony."
"Skip the reception?"
"If that's what you want."
The offer shouldn't have affected me as much as it did. It would’ve been easy for him to insist we attend everything after coming all this way.
Easy to remind me that this was the whole reason we'd made the trip. Instead, he was quietly giving me an out, just in case I needed one.
"I'll think about it."
Dane nodded, apparently satisfied with that answer.
I closed my eyes again, hoping to steal another hour of sleep.
The mattress shifted suddenly. Dane had moved before I could react, bracketing me against the bed, both arms planted on either side of my head.
For a moment, all I could do was stare. He was too close.
Close enough for me to notice he'd shaved. The usual shadow along his jaw was gone, leaving smooth skin in its place. The faint scent of aftershave drifted toward me.
A shame, really. I liked the stubble and the rough scrape of it against my skin. That realization was concerning.
Even more concerning was the sudden urge to reach up, run my hand along his jaw, and pull him down toward me. My throat tightened.
"Get up."
I blinked. "What?"
"The breakfast buffet ends in an hour."
"I'll survive."
"We paid for it," Dane pointed out.
When I continued lying there, he said, "They have eggs Benedict."
I rolled my eyes. Of course he knew what was on the menu. Though I wasn't entirely sure when he'd found the time to check.
The bed creaked as he shifted even closer, enough that I could feel the heat of him through the thin layers of clothes between us.
I pressed a hand against his chest and gave him a light shove before this turned into a problem.
"Fine."
A few minutes later, I was dragging myself toward the bathroom while Dane sipped his coffee, looking entirely unbothered by how easily that had gone his way.
The buffet turned out to be annoyingly good. I hated when Dane was right.
We carried our plates out to the hotel’s oceanfront patio and sat under one of the white umbrellas. The beach rolled out toward a calm, endless stretch of sea. For a while, it was almost easy to forget why we were here.
Then I spotted a familiar face walking along the boardwalk. Or rather, she spotted us.
A woman from the wedding party changed direction and approached our table with an easy smile. “There you two are.”
I vaguely recognized her from the welcome party, enough to return the greeting when she stopped beside us.
After a few polite exchanges, she asked, “Are you heading over for brunch later?”
I frowned. “Brunch?”
“At the house. Everyone’s gathering before the ceremony.”
“Oh.”
I hadn’t known about it, which meant I hadn’t been invited.
That made sense. Yesterday’s rehearsal dinner invitation had already felt like an exception. Today was different, though: family, the wedding party and close friends only.
“No,” I said. “We don’t have plans to.”
She nodded and lingered only a few more minutes before heading off.
Once she disappeared down the path, I let my attention drift back to my coffee.
It didn’t bother me. Spending another few hours around everyone didn’t exactly sound appealing anyway. I wasn’t going to go. I didn’t need to.
Still, something small lingered under it all. Yesterday had briefly felt like I was part of things again. Now the lines were back where they were supposed to be.
Which was fine. It was better that way.
Without any wedding events to attend, there was nowhere we needed to be and nothing demanding our attention.
So after breakfast, we ended up back in town without really deciding to. I showed Dane the small bookstore I’d spent half my teenage years hiding in whenever I wanted to avoid people.
He tried to look unimpressed when the owner recognized me immediately, but it didn’t quite land, especially after he somehow ended up talking to her for nearly twenty minutes anyway.
Afterward, we stopped at a café and took our drinks outside to a shaded table overlooking the water. We read the novels we’d picked up at the bookstore in comfortable silence.
At some point, we drifted along the waterfront again, moving through tourist shops and side streets branching off the main strip. Dane asked about places I hadn’t thought about in years, old restaurants I used to go to, my favorite ice cream shops.
Most of my answers ended with some version of I haven’t been here in forever.
And still, it felt strangely good to see everything again.
The entire day had slipped by without effort. The realization followed me all the way back to the room, sitting somewhere at the back of my mind.
Maybe that was why I found myself hesitating in front of the bathroom mirror, adjusting my tie more carefully than necessary.
When I finished straightening my collar and stepped back into the room, Dane was fastening his watch near the bed.
I started toward my jacket, then paused when I couldn’t quite get one of the cufflinks to sit right.
I tried again. Still wrong.
“Here,” Dane said, already walking over.
“I’ve got it.”
“You very obviously don’t.”
Before I could argue, he took my wrist.
The movement shouldn’t have meant anything at all, but I went still as he worked.
His fingers brushed the inside of my wrist as he fixed the cufflink, lingering just long enough for me to notice.
Memories of last night came back too easily: the hard press of his body against mine, the rough edge of his voice, the way he’d said my name like it meant something more than it should have.
Heat crept up my throat.
I looked away quickly. Dane either didn’t notice, or was kind enough not to say anything.
“There.” He finished with the first cufflink and reached for the other wrist.
I could have done it myself. I should have done it myself. Instead, I let him.
When he was done, he stayed close, adjusting my tie without a word. His fingers slid beneath the knot, straightening it, smoothing it down, unhurried. His hand settled briefly against my chest as he finished.
Neither of us moved straight away.
Then he cleared his throat and stepped back. “There.”
I glanced down. The tie looked no different than it had before. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.”
A silence settled between us. It had been happening more often lately. It was too easy to sit beside him, to reach for him without thinking, too easy to stop questioning where any of it was heading.
That was the part I couldn’t quite settle in my head: the fact that it was starting to feel normal.
I looked away first and reached for my jacket, because it was easier than staying with the thought for too long. Easier than naming it.
The truth was, I was getting used to him, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to do with that.
We arrived at the estate just as guests were taking their seats along the lawn overlooking the water, the musicians already playing softly near the front. We slipped into a pair of empty seats toward the back without much trouble.
The setting looked like something out of a magazine. White chairs stretched across the manicured lawn, the ocean beyond glowing gold under the late afternoon sun. It should have felt overly staged, but instead it came across as unexpectedly intimate.
Darryl and Elliot looked good together, not just because they were dressed well, but because of the way they kept looking at each other throughout the ceremony, like they were always aware of where the other was.
I found myself smiling more than once during the ceremony.
Whatever had existed between Darryl and me belonged firmly in the past. Seeing him standing beside someone who clearly made him happy didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt right.
Beside me, Dane’s arm rested along the back of my chair. At some point during the vows, I became aware of his fingers brushing lightly against my shoulder.
The touch was probably accidental. Still, I found myself leaning toward him, just enough that my shoulder brushed his side. His arm shifted around me more securely, drawing me in a little closer, as if he’d already been waiting for me to do exactly that.
Twilight had settled over the grounds as we followed the rest of the guests toward the reception tent. The sailcloth structure was strung with warm lights, glowing softly against the darkening sky. Music drifted from inside while servers moved between tables with trays of champagne and food.