Chapter 23
Trevor
Idon’t know what I was thinking, bringing Kenzie to a wedding.
Actually, I knew exactly what I was thinking.
I wanted to see her get that happy little zing from crossing something off her list. What I didn’t anticipate is how much being here would wreck me.
I never thought I would be insanely jealous of complete strangers, and yet, as I watch the bride and groom exchange vows, that’s the only emotion racing through my veins.
Kenzie, on the other hand, keeps sighing happily, her clenched tissue tight against her chest. “This is so beautiful.”
I’ll admit the couple’s handwritten vows with little anecdotes from their personal life was a nice touch.
I wonder if Kenzie would like a large ceremony like this or something more intimate.
Before I can stop myself, I imagine the backyard strewn with lights, Kenzie walking toward me in a gossamer gown with light-pink accents, only our closest friends and her parents in attendance.
Kenzie surging to her feet brings me back to the ornately decorated barn.
The groom dips his bride in a kiss before they raise their hands in triumph.
All the guests cheer and hoot but none louder than Kenzie as the couple races down the aisle toward their forever.
When Kenzie puts two fingers in her mouth and whistles, a wide grin cracks over my mouth.
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
She shrugs. “How else would you call in the goats?”
I slip my arms around her waist, anchoring them at the base of her spine. With her closest to the wall and my back to the crowd, I’ve created a private nook for us while the rest of the guests move toward the awaiting canapés.
“What other secret talents do you have?”
Besides making me fall for you.
Kenzie wrinkles her nose as she thinks, and my heart darn near implodes.
“I can fold a fitted sheet perfectly.”
The way she grins when a surprised laugh bursts from my lips makes me want to hold onto this moment forever.
“I’m really good at untangling knots in rope or cords, and I can read upside down.”
I’m about to tell Kenzie how incredible she is when a loud voice gushes behind me.
“It just goes to show that all you need is love.”
“Please,” a raspy voice counters. “All you really need is a trust fund, an iron stomach, and a strong moral compass.”
Kenzie slaps her hand over her mouth to restrain a giggle as the two older women exit the barn.
I lean forward to kiss her temple, helpless not to. “Should we join everyone outside?”
After the requisite wedding party dances, toasts, and dinner, the dance floor thrums with guests.
The classic atmosphere that welcomed us transitioned into a night club vibe with smoke machines, color-changing laser lights, and signature cocktails with light-up ice cubes.
The bride and groom dance in the center of the floor, hamming it up with flashing headbands that read “Bride” and “Groom.”
True to my word to keep a low profile, I keep us tucked away at the outskirts of the dance floor, farthest from the pulsing bass of the speakers.
Occasionally, people wander over, asking for an autograph or wanting to chat about the Waves’ chances of making it to the post-season, but I keep those interactions cordial and brief.
“Are you okay being over here?”
“Oh, yes.” Kenzie sips from the tiny neon straw in her flashing cocktail while bouncing along to the music. “Party-adjacent works perfectly for me.”
“Good.” I take another large gulp from my ice water. “I want you to have the full wedding experience, right down to groomsmen doing the worm and bridesmaids fighting over the bouquet.”
Kenzie grimaces. “I don’t think they do bouquet tosses anymore.”
“They don’t?”
It’s been a while since I’ve been to a wedding. The last one I attended was my youngest sister’s over a decade ago.
“It’s antiquated and awkward. Like when adults joke about children having a boyfriend or girlfriend because they have a friend of the opposite sex.” She shudders. “That really grosses me out. They’re children. No eight-year-old wants to kiss their playmate. They just want to play.”
“Yeah. That is creepy.”
I glance at the small group of kids hopping around on the dance floor, having the time of their lives. They’re all amped off of being up past their bedtime and the lingering promise of cake.
“So what would you want at your wedding?”
Subtle, man. Real subtle.
But when I glance at Kenzie, she doesn’t seem alarmed by my very forward question. She’s watching the littles with a quirk of her lips. “More slow dances.”
I’m two seconds from excusing myself to bribe the DJ when Ed Sheeran’s “Perfect” blends with the remnants of the last techno song before the music slows down.
Couples pair off as the kids flee the dance floor, some of them groaning and covering their eyes like adults slow-dancing is worse than watching a frog dissection.
I extend my hand. “Looks like they heard your request.”
“That was fortuitous,” she says, sliding her palm into mine with a lifted eyebrow. “Or did you orchestrate that too?”
A laugh bubbles up my chest. “I’m not that good.”
Her unconvinced hum resonates as she slides her palm up my arm. My hand slips low on her back, pulling her snug against me. Kenzie was right. This wedding definitely needed more slow songs. We sway in time to the music, the crown of her head tucked beneath my chin.
“I couldn’t have picked a better song.”
“I thought you said you didn’t pick it,” she says, tilting her face back to grin at me.
“Semantics… You really do look perfect tonight.”
Perfectly beautiful. The silk of her dress contours perfectly to my hands. The soft way she’s looking at me is more perfect than all the times I dreamed of this moment.
“You keep saying that.”
I’d like to say a lot more.
A pressure builds in my lungs at my reflexive thought.
I spent so much of the last year using all the deflection techniques I learned in media training to hide my true feelings from Kenzie, but now, it feels like they’re expanding beyond the limits of my body.
I don’t know if I can keep the way I feel about her caged much longer.
We’ve only been “going slow” for a month, and we’ve only decided to officially label our relationship this afternoon, but with knowing each other so long, this relationship feels more serious already.
It feels like an effervescent beginning and a foregone conclusion all at once.
Being with Kenzie shimmers with potential while simultaneously feeling like my most comfortable t-shirt, worn and well-loved.
But ultimately, it’s unfair to Kenzie to tell her I love her when this is all so new for her.
“Why was attending a wedding on your list?” I ask to keep myself from saying something I shouldn’t—not yet, anyway.
Kenzie ducks her chin for a few beats before straightening her spine and meeting my gaze.
“I told myself it was because I’d never been to one, but really”—she pauses, releasing a long, slow exhale—“I thought if I went to a wedding, it would help me get over the fact that I wasn’t going to be a bride anymore. ”
When I open my mouth, Kenzie shakes her head.
“Just let me…let me get all of this out. My whole life I assumed I’d never get married. I figured I’d be the crazy cat lady, and I was okay with that. I loved cats and understood them. I never felt like I was boring them, or missing a social cue, or somehow lacking in their presence.”
The helpless way Kenzie shrugs rips me to shreds, but I hold my tongue.
“Then I got swept up in Aaron’s showy attention and started asking myself, what if?
I started imagining a bigger future for myself.
And when things ended, I wrote this task on my list, not realizing that I didn’t need to attend a wedding as some sort of misguided immersion therapy.
The more things I crossed off my list—that you helped me cross off—the more I realized that I could attend a wedding just for fun.
” She rolls her lips, her gaze searing into my soul.
“Because even if we’re relaxing at home or having our date hijacked by my immune system, I always have fun with you. ”
“Kenz,” I breathe, my hand framing her face. “I—”
The piercing scream ricocheting between the barns interrupts me from telling Kenzie that nothing makes me happier than spending time with her.
Several other shouts follow, and we separate enough to see a hoard of large goats ripping through the reception area, knocking over chairs and bumping tables.
Seeing the direction of the galloping goats, Kenzie bolts toward the cake table.
I’m right behind her until one of the older women from earlier gets pushed sideways by another guest. I stoop, catching her inches before she breaks a hip on the parquet dance floor.
“Thank you,” she gasps, clinging to me.
When I glance up, Kenzie stands in front of the cake table, brandishing her heels like weapons.
“No,” she says in a firm, low voice, arms outstretched. “No. Keep going.”
Each goat who veers toward her rounds the table instead.
A few brave guests follow Kenzie’s lead, creating a human barrier for the delicate confection.
I settle the older woman on a nearby chair, ensuring that she’s steady before jogging toward Kenzie.
The last goat prances past her with an annoyed bleat.
“Never underestimate the farm girl,” she tells me, a twinkle in her eye.
I can’t help the laugh bursting from my belly. Before I can wrap Kenzie in my arms again, the grateful bride hugs her.
“You saved it. You wonderful, wonderful woman. Thank you!”
Kenzie hands me her heels so she can hug the bride back without marring her dress. “You’re welcome. Would you like me to round them up?”
The bride pulls back, a mystified expression on her face. “You— You can do that?”
Kenzie chuckles. “Sure. It’d be no trouble.”
“But won’t that be hard in heels?”
She tilts her head to the side, considering.
“I have your Converse in the truck.” When both women stare at me, I rub the back of my neck. “I brought them in case your feet got tired.”
“He’s a keeper.” The bride flicks a polished nail in my direction as her father and two staff members arrive.
While we let the venue managers sort out the mishap with their dairy goats, Kenzie pulls me toward the dance floor. The DJ has started up again, and the dance floor pulses as if wayward hooves hadn’t just trampled it.
“Should I get your shoes?” I ask when Kenzie sets her heels under a chair.
“Maybe later.” She shoots a megawatt smile, tugging me into the fray. “Right now, let’s just have some fun.”
Upping the wattage of my smile, I ignore how my lower back whines. I must have tweaked it, catching the old woman.
“You know me. Fun is my middle name.”