10. Austen
TEN
AUSTEN
I’d been to tons of weddings. The race to the altar started in college, and there’d been what felt like an avalanche of them ever after among friends and family. Being an inherent romantic, I generally loved seeing people I cared about making their vows of forever. But while there was a vague sense of “Oh, I want that someday,” they didn’t usually leave me feeling so unsettled and restless. It wasn’t that Gretchen and Kevin presented some picture of marital perfection. It was that I listened to them make their vows with my hand laced with Clint’s, feeling his warm presence from shoulder to knee where we sat pressed closed together in the crowded church pews. Damn, if it didn’t make me yearn in a way I hadn’t before.
This was so far beyond the hearts doodled around our initials in old secret notebooks from junior high. These past couple of weeks with him had given me a very clear picture of what it could be like between us. Clint Ramsey clearly knew how to romance a woman, and I wanted all this to be real. I wanted him to want me. To love me beyond the easy, long-standing affection of friends. I wanted the things he’d said to Aunt Maureen to be true. To mean that he wanted to build a future with me beyond this well-intended charade. And that was very, very dangerous ground.
It took the entire drive over to the reception venue for me to get my head on straight. But the moment we arrived, I tensed up again.
Clint glanced over from the driver’s seat. “You okay?”
I winced and pressed a hand to my knotted belly. “Aunt Maureen was just the warm-up act. This is where we really have to sell this. Us. Here’s where I have to actually face Trevor and interact with everyone else. I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“Austen, look at me.”
The tone might have been gentle, but I recognized an order when I heard one. I met his hazel gaze.
“Believe me when I tell you that you’re going to be one of the most beautiful women there. You’re smart, confident, and successful, and you have absolutely no reason not to hold your head high.”
God, when he said stuff like that, with that really intense focus, I believed him. With a slow exhale, I nodded, and some of the knots released.
I flapped my hands, as if I could shake off the restless energy like droplets of water. “Why does this feel like a high school dance? At least, how I imagine a high school dance would’ve felt. I didn’t exactly have the greatest luck with that, courtesy of Rhett.”
It was Clint’s turn to wince. “He was just trying to protect you.”
“I get that. It would have been nice if he’d protected me a little bit less. I haven’t forgiven him for ruining my prospects at a date for prom.”
“Considering Brett Harding and his date got busted in the backseat of his car, and she ended up pregnant, I’d say you dodged a bullet there. But I take your point.”
“I wouldn’t have slept with him. I just wanted to wear my pretty dress.” I was still bitter that I’d never gotten to.
“Well, you’re wearing a beautiful dress tonight, so let’s go make up for all of that. Okay?”
I blew out another breath. No sense dwelling on the past. It wasn’t as if I’d actually liked Brett all that much. “Okay.”
Clint helped me out of the truck and tugged me close. “Chin up, shoulders back. You are a badass. Say it.”
“I am a badass,” I murmured.
“Like you really mean it.”
“I am a badass.”
“Good girl.”
We strode into the reception together and must have made a bit of an entrance because all eyes seemed to turn in our direction. It felt really great to have him on my arm. How many times at those dances I’d gone to with my girlfriends had I wished it had been him as my date? Too many to count. Now here we were, dressed to the nines and looking pretty amazing, if I said so myself. This sort of did feel a little like making up for all of those missed opportunities, because for all any of these people knew, he was all mine. He’d chosen me.
The brief surge of self satisfaction faded as I spotted my ex across the room, hanging all over some blonde.
Clint followed my gaze. “That the guy?”
“Yup.”
I was all prepared to go find a table while we waited, but as if looking at Trevor had summoned him, he began to make a beeline in our direction, towing the blonde behind. Damn. I’d really been hoping to avoid this.
“Austen, great to see you!”
My stomach clenched again at the sound of that familiar voice. Trevor looked almost exactly the same as he did eight months ago when he walked out of my life.
“I wasn’t expecting you to be here.” He paused, his face flushing a little. “I mean?—”
“At my cousin’s wedding?” I arched an eyebrow. “Why wouldn’t I be here?”
His mouth opened and closed a few times, as if he were a fish struggling for breath. “Oh, right. I guess I didn’t think about that.”
“You didn’t think about a lot of things,” I muttered. I wished I’d realized it sooner, and I’d been the one to break things off. But I’d been too busy with the shop and otherwise hung up on what I thought our relationship had been rather than the reality of what it actually was.
Trevor pulled the willowy blonde forward. “This is Jessica. My fiancée.”
Fiancée? The word hit me like a punch to the gut. Jessica thrust her left hand forward—not to shake hands, but to display an ostentatious diamond that sparkled beneath the lights of the reception hall. Her smile was saccharine sweet, her eyes chilled. “So nice to meet you.”
I was a Southern woman, well trained in the art of subtext. I recognized a put down when I heard it. She’d heard stories of me and definitely found me lacking.
Eight months. He’d been broken up with me for eight months, and he was already engaged? It was possible, I supposed, but the math wasn’t adding up. My anxiety took a definite queasy turn. Had he been cheating before he broke things off?
Before I could formulate any sort of response, the warm presence at my side shifted closer, sliding an arm around my waist to link us together.
Clint.
How in the hell had I forgotten he was here, even for a moment? “Baby, why don’t you make introductions?” His voice carried that hint of a drawl that always made my knees go a little weak.
Trevor blinked, as if only just now noticing the six-foot-two soldier beside me.
Not waiting for me to do the honors, he extended his hand toward my ex. “Clint Ramsey. Austen’s boyfriend.”
With a blend of satisfaction and amusement, I watched as Trevor seemed to shrink slightly next to Clint’s far broader frame and quiet confidence. But he took Clint’s hand for a shake. I could’ve sworn I heard Trevor’s knuckles crack.
The smug expression on Jessica’s too-perfect face had definitely slipped, her gaze darting between Clint and Trevor with poorly concealed disappointment. This encounter clearly wasn’t going the way she’d planned. And I was under no delusion she hadn’t planned it.
“I’m real glad you’re here tonight, Trevor.” Clint’s tone carried a dangerous edge of politeness that made my toes curl.
Trevor got his hand back and didn’t quite manage to stop himself from rubbing the apparently abused knuckles. “Oh? Why’s that?”
“Because I wanted to thank you.”
My ex shifted uncomfortably. “Thank me? For what?”
Yeah, seriously. Where was he going with this?
“For being such an unmitigated dumbass.” Clint’s arm tightened around my waist. “If you hadn’t been fool enough to let this amazing woman go, I wouldn’t be the luckiest guy here today.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning as Trevor’s face turned a fascinating shade of red.
Behind us, a cheer went up, signaling the arrival of the bride and groom.
“Y’all enjoy the party now,” Clint advised, then led me away from the gaping couple.
As soon as we were facing the opposite direction, I let the smile come. “Have I mentioned you’re currently my very favorite person?”
“It’s a position I intend to keep earning. Stick with me, gal.”
Oh, I’d love to.