Chapter Twenty Two
The Morning After
Emma
S unlight streams through the curtains as echoes from the night before run through my mind. I wake up wrapped in warmth—Ethan’s arm draped over my waist, his steady breathing brushing against my neck. Everything about this moment feels perfect, yet my chest tightens with a familiar blend of elation and fear. Last night was everything I’d dreamed of, but now, in the light of day, I can’t stop wondering—what happens next?
The steady rhythm of Ethan’s breathing is a lullaby I didn’t know I needed. I lay there for a few moments longer, pretending my worries don't exist, letting myself believe this is just a regular morning with him—no years of heartache or unanswered questions between us.
But the heaviness of what happened between us settles in, and I feel my chest tighten. What if this is fleeting? A momentary lapse before he changes his mind and he misses his life without me ?
Ethan stirs behind me, his arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer. “Morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep, sending a shiver down my spine.
I turn to face him, my lips curving into a soft smile despite the unease bubbling in my chest. “Morning.”
His eyes crinkle as he grins lazily, leaning in to press a kiss to the tip of my nose. “You always wake up this cute, or is this just for me?”
I laugh lightly, swatting at his chest. The sound feels hollow to my ears, but Ethan doesn’t seem to notice.
“Cute and feisty,” he teases, propping himself up on one elbow. “I could get used to this.”
I try to match his playful tone, but my laugh comes out weaker than I intend. My fingers toy with the edge of the sheet, my thoughts spiraling faster than I can rein them in.
His words send a flutter through my chest, but they’re quickly drowned out by uncertainty. Before I can overthink, Ethan leans down, kissing me with a gentleness that catches me off guard.
When he pulls away, a flicker of hesitation crosses his face before he speaks. “I need to step out for a bit. Handle something. ”
The pang of disappointment comes fast and sharp. “What kind of something?”
“Nothing major,” he says, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Just something I need to take care of. I’ll explain everything later, okay?”
His words are casual and he doesn't elaborate, but something about the way he avoids my gaze leaves me uneasy.
I don’t push. Instead, I force a smile and nod. “Okay.”
Ethan kisses me once more before slipping out of bed. When he moves to dress, I can’t help but watch, each movement reminding me of how quickly this moment could slip away. As I watch him, his movements sure and confident, I wonder how he can look so calm while I feel like I’m barely holding it together. He leans down and kisses me once more before heading out the door.
When the door clicks shut behind him, the silence feels deafening.
I sit up, pulling the sheets around me as I try to steady my thoughts. The morning light feels too harsh, exposing every doubt and fear I’ve been trying to ignore. What if last night was just a mistake he’ll regret? What if I’m setting myself up to be left behind again?
The rest of the morning drags, the flurry of wedding prep activities doing little to distract me from the growing knot in my stomach. I go over last-minute details, double-checking seating charts and schedules, nodding and smiling at all the right times, but my mind is elsewhere.
“Emma, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. She’s standing by the door, her hand idly turning one of the bouquets as if examining it. Her brows knit together, and she makes a small face, clearly unimpressed. “I told you this theme was over-the-top classic.”
I glance around the bustling room, then back at her. “Can we talk?”
“Of course,” she says, setting the bouquet aside.
We step into the adjoining lounge, the noise muffling behind the closed door. Sarah leans against the back of the couch, her arms crossed as she studies me.
“Spill,” she says, her tone soft but direct.
I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the tie of my robe. “Ethan and I… we…” The words catch in my throat.
I grip the edge of the vanity, my reflection staring back at me with wide, uncertain eyes. My fingers drum against the wood, betraying the nervous energy I can’t seem to shake. Sarah’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, her head tilting slightly as she watches me .
A knowing smile tugs at Sarah’s lips. “Oh, I know.”
My cheeks flush. “You do?”
“You’re not exactly subtle,” she teases, a knowing smile tugging at her lips before her expression softens. “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”
“I am,” I say quickly. “But I’m also… terrified.”
Sarah tilts her head, waiting for me to elaborate.
“I don’t know if I can trust him not to leave again,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if this is just… temporary for him?”
Sarah steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “Emma, I’ve caught the way he’s looked at you. It’s the same look he had back in college. I’d say he’s all in—you just have to let yourself believe it.”
Her words are meant to comfort, but the flicker of emotion in her eyes tells me she’s wrestling with her own struggles.
“What about you?” I ask. “Are you okay?”
For a moment, Sarah’s mask slips, her smile faltering. But she quickly shakes her head, brushing it off. “This isn’t about me. Let’s focus on you and your happily ever after, okay?”
Her deflection leaves me with more questions than answers, but I don’t press .
Sarah doesn’t stay much longer and after she leaves, I busy myself with the pre-wedding chaos—final touch-ups on where we will be, last-minute adjustments to some things Sierra deemed necessary. And the whirlwind of bridesmaids flitting in and out with questions and champagne. The energy in the suite feels suffocating, each cheerful laugh and clinking glass only amplifying the tension in my chest.
Needing a break, I volunteer to check on the groomsmen’s boutonnieres, which gives me a reason to step out of the suite. As I weave through the venue, the noise and chaos fade slightly, replaced by the hum of soft classical music drifting from the ceremony area.
I take my time walking back, letting the quiet settle over me. The weight in my chest hasn’t eased, but the distraction of checking small details helps push it to the back of my mind. I pause by the guestbook table, straightening a pen and glancing at the floral arrangements, admiring the way the muted colors contrast against the polished wood. I know Sarah hates it but I think she’s just projecting, I think it’s beautiful. Sierra did a great job.
Eventually, I make my way outside to the garden. The air is crisp but inviting, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. I spot Sierra near the cocktail area, chatting briefly with a server as she picks up a glass of sparkling water. She notices me, smiling and waves but doesn’t come over, continuing her conversation with the server before I can return the gesture.
I head back inside, wandering through the hallways back toward the chaos of wedding preparation. It’s there, as I turn a corner, that I see Sarah and Jace standing in a secluded corner, their postures tense and their voices hushed but sharp.
Their voices are low, their posture tense. I can’t hear much, but I catch Sarah’s clipped tone as she says, “This changes everything, Jace. We can’t go back.”
Jace runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident as he steps closer to Sarah, his voice softening. “Sarah, I—”
Before he finishes, he reaches for her, his hands gently grasping her arms, desperation flickering across his face. But Sarah pulls away sharply, her movements quick and resolute. The devastation etched into Jace’s features is undeniable as she puts distance between them.
Sarah doesn’t just walk away—she storms off, her steps brisk and purposeful, her shoulders trembling despite her attempt to hold herself together. Her head is still held high, but the visible shake in her hands betrays how upset she truly is.
Jace stands there, staring after her, his jaw tight, his hands clenched at his sides. I feel a pang of guilt for witnessing such a private moment, but I remind myself I have my own problems to sort through .
I debate on whether I should go after her but ultimately decide not to because I think she needs some time after whatever just transpired between her and Jace.
……………………………………………………………
By the time the rehearsal begins, the tension coiled inside me feels unbearable. My mind keeps replaying what I saw between Sarah and Jace, their words laced with something that’s starting to make sense. And then there’s Ethan—our night together, the promises we made,plus the fear that it might not be enough to bridge the years we’ve lost. Add to that the chaos of the day, the smiles and pleasantries I’ve forced for hours, and it’s a wonder I haven’t unraveled completely.
Ethan and I are paired together, walking arm in arm down the makeshift aisle. His hand brushes mine, the small touch grounding me even as it sends a jolt of awareness through my body.
He glances at me, his expression unreadable, and I offer him a small, tentative smile. My nerves are frayed, not from anything specific he’s done, but from everything hanging between us—the unspoken questions, the hopes, the fears.
“Emma,” he says softly, his voice barely audible over the hum of conversation.
I meet his gaze this time, letting the warmth in his eyes settle something fragile inside me. “Yeah?” I whisper back, unsure of what he’ s going to say.
Before he can respond, we’re ushered forward, and the moment slips away. As we reach the end of the aisle, he lingers a second longer beside me, his hand brushing mine before we part ways to join the others.
I catch a glimpse of Ethan watching me from across the room, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to work up the courage to say something. My stomach twists, not in fear but in anticipation. I want to know what’s on his mind, but before I can make a move toward him, someone calls his name, and the moment is lost.
As the rehearsal wraps up, I’m left with a strange mix of hope and apprehension. I want to believe in the things Sarah said, want to trust the way Ethan has looked at me all day, like I’m his whole world. But the thought of saying those words out loud terrifies me. So instead, I keep my thoughts tucked away, hoping the right moment will come to finally lay them bare.
I try to shake off the lingering nerves as I follow the others toward the reception hall, but they cling to me, a shadow I can’t escape. Each cheerful voice and laugh around me feels like a jarring contrast to the storm brewing inside.
Rehearsal ends and we’re ushered toward the reception hall for the rehearsal dinner. The room is buzzing with energy, laughter echoing off the walls as Jace and Sierra’s friends and family find their seats. Ethan lingers near the entrance, caught in conversation with one of the groomsmen, and I find myself gravitating toward Sarah, seeking the safety of her familiarity.
“Ready for round two?” she teases, nudging me as we make our way inside. Her lightheartedness tugs a small smile from me, but my stomach twists, the nerves from earlier refusing to ease.
As I take my seat, I glance around the room, searching for Ethan. My gaze lands on him just as he steps outside, his phone pressed to his ear. His brow is furrowed, his expression tight, and something about his posture makes me pause. He looks… tense.
Curiosity—or maybe an instinct I can’t quite name—pulls me to my feet. I tell Sarah I’m just stepping out for air as I walk toward the door Ethan just slipped through.
His voice reaches me before I see him, low and clipped. “I know the timing’s terrible, but I can’t just ignore this. You know how important this deal is. I just need to get through this weekend.”
I stop short, staying just out of sight, my heart pounding. He sounds… impatient, frustrated. My mind races, trying to piece together the conversation.
“Yeah, I’ll be back in the city by Monday,” he continues, the words hitting me like a physical blow. “I need to get out of here as soon as this wedding’s over. ”
The blood drains from my face, my breath catching in my throat. Back to the city? Leaving? The words swirl in my head, the meaning hitting harder than I expect. He’s already planning to leave. Again. I understand he has to go back to his life but…he promised this time would be different.
I turn on my heel before I hear anything else, the lump in my throat threatening to choke me. By the time I’m back inside, the noise of the rehearsal dinner feels overwhelming, the laughter and chatter clashing with the storm building inside me.
I sink into my seat, willing myself to hold it together until I can leave. My hands tremble as I grip my napkin, my mind spinning with the implications of what I’ve just heard. Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe there’s more to the story. But the ache in my chest tells me it doesn’t matter. The fear I’ve been trying to ignore is already starting to take root.
I can’t confront him—not yet. Not when the thought of hearing him confirm my worst fears feels like it might break me completely. So instead, I swallow down the lump in my throat, pretending everything is fine as I fight to keep myself together.