Seth #2
We were guided toward a table near the middle of the tent, close enough to stay in things, not close enough to be trapped in them. Unfortunately, it was also the table containing several of my former college friends.
The newlyweds arrived a few minutes later to loud applause and cheers. Elliot looked delighted. Darryl looked like he wanted to disappear. The contrast made me laugh before I could stop it.
Dinner followed soon after. The speeches began not long after that, starting with a few friends, then family, then Glenn and Lynn.
Most of the stories circled around summers at the estate, vacations, family gatherings, years of memories stretching further back than I could comfortably follow.
I smiled when everyone else smiled, laughed when everyone else laughed. But every so often I caught someone at the table glancing toward me before quickly looking away again.
Eventually, the microphone made its way to Darryl’s father, and the room quieted almost immediately.
“I’ve always been proud of my son,” he began.
The early part of the speech was nothing unexpected. Stories from childhood, reminders of a stubborn streak, years after college when no one had been entirely sure what direction Darryl’s life was heading. I listened with only half my attention at first, letting the words pass without much weight.
Gradually, the tone shifted. He spoke about the years after college, when Darryl had joined the family company and started working alongside him, describing it as a turning point, the moment everything had fallen into place. The moment Darryl had found direction, the future he had been meant for.
“And then,” his father said, smiling toward the head table, “he found his mate.” Applause broke out immediately.
“A fellow wolf who understands him completely.” Glasses lifted in easy agreement.
“He found someone who shares his values, his future, and the life he’s worked so hard to build.”
I took a slow sip of wine, aware my smile had started to feel fixed in place. It was just a wedding speech, I told myself.
People turned things into stories at weddings, smoothing complicated lives into versions that sounded cleaner than they really were.
And yet I couldn’t stop listening.
Every word seemed to assume the same thing: a shared future, a shared life, a shared world, as if that was simply how things were meant to fall into place.
My gaze drifted, almost without permission, toward Dane, then away again.
I took another sip of wine before I could think too much about it.
A burst of applause pulled me back. I blinked, realizing only then that my hands had tightened against my knees.
“Seth?” Dane’s voice came just as his fingers brushed my arm.
I jerked so hard the table rattled. Wine sloshed over the rim of my glass and spilled across my napkin.
“Shit.”
I grabbed for it, but only managed to spread the stain further across the tablecloth. A nervous laugh slipped out of me.
When I finally looked up, our table had emptied. A few people had drifted toward the dance floor, others toward neighboring conversations. Only Dane remained beside me.
Dane’s hand settled over mine before I could do any more damage to the tablecloth.
“Seth.”
The concern on his face softened something in my chest immediately.
“I’m fine,” I said, but it came out flatter than I intended.
I stared down at the wine stain spreading across the napkin. “I guess hearing all that just brought back memories.”
Dane studied me for a moment longer, then nodded. Whatever he saw seemed to be enough. Or maybe he simply decided not to press.
“Okay,” he said.
Dane’s hand stayed over mine for a moment longer before he finally eased back. Around us, the reception picked up again, the low hum of voices and music settling into place.
The tension from earlier loosened slightly, though not completely gone. The speech still lingered somewhere at the back of my mind, just less sharp than before.
Maybe it was the noise of the room, the laughter and music, the warm glow of hundreds of lights overhead, but it was harder now to stay inside the thoughts I’d been circling earlier. Harder to hold onto them without everything else pressing in around them.
I let out a quiet breath.
The truth was, I liked my life. I liked my café, I liked the friends I’d made. Janine alone had probably improved my quality of life by at least twenty percent.
Everything that mattered to me now existed because things had unfolded exactly the way they had, because some doors had closed and others had opened, because I had ended up here.
And because I’d met Dane.
The band started another song, one I vaguely recognized, and couples began drifting toward the dance floor.
I considered suggesting we head out for another walk instead. The idea wasn’t bad. The beach, the quiet, the short walk back to the hotel the same way we had the night before. Instead, I stayed where I was.
The music rolled softly through the tent while conversation blurred into the background.
The wine I’d been nursing all evening left a pleasant warmth under my skin, though I wasn’t entirely convinced that was the reason I felt so light.
Across the table, Dane was watching me. I’d noticed it more than once over the last couple of days, those brief moments when his attention lingered a little too long, or when that faintly thoughtful look crossed his face when he thought I wasn’t paying attention.
Every time I caught it, there was that same flicker of something I couldn’t quite place, like I was supposed to understand it but kept missing the point. I didn’t know what it meant. I wasn’t sure I wanted to start naming it either.
“What?” I asked.
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing.”
“That wasn’t a nothing look.”
His smile widened slightly, but before he could answer, the music shifted into something slower. Around us, people began drifting toward the dance floor.
Dane’s gaze flicked briefly in that direction before returning to me. “You want to dance?”
It should have made me hesitate. A few weeks ago, it probably would have. Instead, I was already looking at his hand as he offered it.
It might have been the wine, or the music, or maybe I was just tired of overthinking everything. Whatever the reason was, I placed my hand in his.
“Yeah,” I said.
Dane’s smile deepened, and before I could second-guess it, he pulled me to my feet and led me toward the dance floor.