Chapter 37
SARAH
Alley Rose | Conan Gray
Abby was the most beautiful she’d ever looked.
Which was saying something, because Sarah generally thought her best friend was one of the most beautiful people she knew. But with her long blonde hair tumbling down her back in glossy curls, bronzed makeup offset by brick red lipstick, and her lightly tanned skin glowing against the white fabric of her dress, she was utterly radiant.
‘What do you think?’ Abby asked, smoothing the front of her skirt. Her mother, Susan, and Erik’s mother, Nora, had disappeared to procure more champagne, leaving Abby, Sarah, and Zoe alone for the moment.
‘I think you look amazing for someone who didn’t get nearly enough sleep because she spent two hours canoodling in the garden last night,’ Zoe said, plucking a chocolate-covered strawberry off the tray in front of her.
Sarah snorted, recalling the leaf she’d found in Abby’s hair after Erik glumly deposited her at their door. ‘ I think it’s a good thing you decided not to get married in a church,’ she said. ‘Your fiancé is going to lose his fucking mind.’
The dress was stunning in its simplicity. Sarah’s mum had really outdone herself. The bodice fit snugly across Abby’s chest and hips, dipping low in the back and leaving a long expanse of skin exposed. Tiny straps rested delicately on her shoulders, and the whole thing was covered in a layer of delicate tulle embroidered sporadically with tiny daisies.
Sarah and Zoe’s dresses were simple too, the same design—a crossover bodice leading into a skirt that poured itself over their hips before falling to the ground—looking phenomenal on both Sarah’s curves and Zoe’s petite frame.
‘You look beautiful, hun,’ Zoe said, more seriously.
Before Abby could respond, a knock pulled their attention to the door. Sarah bounded to get it, expecting mothers and champagne, not thinking about the one person they were anticipating coming to look for the bride.
‘Alex,’ she breathed, as she opened the door and found him looking devastatingly handsome. Gold hair swept back from his face in the gentle waves she was used to. He’d trimmed the sides, and she was desperate to run her fingers over it. To let the soft ends brush her skin. Seeing him with stubble the night before had knocked the breath out of her. Before, it hadn’t seemed possible he could become more attractive, but that one concession to dishevelment had ruined her. Combined with the sharp cut of his tux now, it was lethal.
He glanced up from his phone at his name, something like hunger flashing across his face as he took her in, top to bottom. When he met her eyes again, that polite, detached expression some might mistake for warmth was back in place. ‘You look gorgeous,’ he said, voice flatter than she was used to. Certainly a world away from the last time he’d used that word to describe her.
‘Thanks,’ she murmured. It wasn’t the time, not when the wedding would start in less than an hour, and it wasn’t the plan, but she was desperate to fling herself at him and make him listen while she told him she was sorry and she cared about him and she might even—
‘What about me?’ Abby asked, drawing up next to Sarah, one hand tossing an errant curl back over her shoulder.
Alex’s eyes softened, a flicker of his real smile teasing at his mouth. ‘Breathtaking, Squirt. Come on. He’s been driving me crazy waiting to see you.’
Sarah again resisted the urge to call after him. Each time she saw him, saw how he had slipped away, it was harder to wait to put their plan in motion. But she held her mouth shut, watching him disappear down the corridor instead.
The ceremony was beautiful. Sarah tried, really tried to be present for her friends and not spend the full duration staring across the aisle at the best man.
She mostly succeeded.
The photos after were somehow not as awkward as Sarah had anticipated. Titan—embodying the name in all his tall, blonde, well-muscled glory—was either remarkably adept at reading interpersonal connections, or Alex had filled his friend in on their situation. Alex and Sarah were coordinated to perfection, orbiting each other and the happy couple, but never quite coming together. And between posed photos, it was a blessing to be near enough to Alex to see the joy radiating off him as he joked with his brother or teased Abby, even if she wished it was directed at her.
The beginning stages of the reception passed in a haze, as Sarah anxiously waited to implement the initial phase of the plan to win Alex over. She barely heard Abby’s father’s welcome toast, although not being fully present for that felt forgivable. The lasagne and focaccia served for mains proved to be the first time Sarah had been confronted with a plate of carbs and not felt any joy. Erik’s speech became a blur of compliments to his wife, and many repetitions of that word.
And then, he stood up.
With every step Alex took towards the bride and groom’s table, Sarah felt her focus honing in on him, until he was cast in sharp, glorious relief, warm lights making his hair and eyes glint and his skin glow.
And to the delight of the room, he opened with a flawless Peter Cook impression that surely only he could pull off without sounding utterly ridiculous. ‘And that mawage has felt like a painfully long time coming,’ he continued.
Unsurprisingly, his speech was perfect . As perfect as the charming, supportive big brother look he’d been sporting all day. A knife-edge balance between teasing the bride and groom, and achingly sentimental as he shared anecdotes from their childhood. Moments where everyone but the two of them could see how in love they were. As much as Sarah knew he was happy for them, she couldn’t help thinking back on that night in the bar —when he’d revealed so much of himself to her, including the jealousy he’d felt throughout his adolescence.
‘Erik spoke about how privileged he is to love his wife. But I don’t think either of them realise what a privilege it was to watch them fall in love. Erik, you are the best little brother I could have asked for, and it brings me so much joy to see you this happy.’ A crack of emotion broke through Alex’s composed presentation voice, and something passed between him and Erik before Alex cleared his throat and continued, ‘Abby, you are the annoying little sister I certainly didn’t ask for’—a short burst of laughter rippled through the guests as Abby flipped him off—‘but I love you anyway, Squirt. And even if it took him an inordinately long time, I’m glad this idiot made it official. Because it has been a beautiful thing to watch two of my favourite people find their perfect match in each other.’
Sarah would have missed it if she hadn’t been staring at him. Was sure everyone else missed it, transfixed as they surely were by the soft kiss she saw Erik place on Abby’s cheek in her periphery. But in the moment Alex said perfect match , his eyes flickered briefly to hers, just as they had during the I do s. And while her heart still slammed in anticipation of what she was about to do, that one look gave her hope. As did the slight brush of their skin as he handed her the mic after his speech. The flex of his hand as he let go.
Alex worked hard to be in control of his body at all times. If he’d wanted to keep his fingers away from hers, he would have. And she let herself believe that he’d touched her because he needed it too.
‘When I met Abby eight years ago, I knew I’d found a friend for life, and there was no doubt in my mind that I’d be at her side for every major milestone in her life, including her wedding. And when I first met Erik a year or two later, I knew he’d be the one marrying her, despite their deeply misguided protests.’ As she spoke, she let her eyes slide away from the happy couple until they rested on Alex, pointedly not looking at her. ‘The quote “Love is friendship caught fire” feels particularly applicable here, in the face of a couple who segue so effortlessly between playful moments and sharing the barest parts of their souls. Who see and accept each other so fully, in the parts they choose to show the world and in the insecurities they try to hide.’
She had spent an hour with Abby, writing and rewriting, until they found the perfect words that could be referencing the couple of the moment, but more importantly, said everything Sarah needed Alex to hear.
‘It feels so appropriate that our best man opened his speech quoting The Princess Bride , and it’s not just because the bride has an unnatural obsession with it, probably brought on by the fact that these two are a real-life Westley and Buttercup. More importantly, to most people, that kind of fairy tale love feels like just that. A story made up to soothe children in their sickbed. But these two have brought the kind of love into my life that I didn’t think was possible.’
Look at me, she urged.
Instead, Alex’s jaw ticked as he took a swig of champagne, still staring at the flickering candle in the centre of his table, and Sarah turned back to the bride and groom, hoping that he had heard her. ‘Abby, if I have to share you, at least it’s with someone who looks at you like you hung the moon. Erik… You’re lucky I like you, I guess.’
On Sarah’s journey back to her table, Abby intercepted her for a tight hug.
‘He wouldn’t even look at me,’ Sarah whispered.
‘Oh, he’s looking now,’ Abby whispered back. ‘You did great, hun.’
Sarah resisted the urge to try to catch him as she returned to her seat and picked at the trio of mini cinnamon buns served for dessert, her ice cream melting into a puddle around them. But she chanced a peek when Erik and Abby began their first dance, waltzing quickly to a song Sarah knew only from how often it blasted out of Abby’s bedroom.
And that first trip in Alex’s car.
Alex was already looking at her, and there was no mistaking the raw wanting on his face now. He turned away quickly when she caught his eye, but she’d seen it. So when the next song began, a slowed-down, string arrangement of the song they’d danced to that night at Neon, she sauntered towards his table. She felt slightly bad about using her best friend’s wedding to get a guy back, but since Abby had suggested each step of the plan and deeply encouraged it, Sarah supposed it was okay. She’d smiled when Alex had spoken about two of his favourite people finding their perfect match in each other. Because Abby had said almost exactly the same thing two nights before.
Alex sat alone, lifting a bottle of champagne to top up his glass, both his parents and Abby’s having vacated their table in favour of the dance floor. ‘Want to dance?’ Sarah asked, when she came within a few steps of him.
His eyes swung back to her, champagne now frozen in mid-air. ‘No, thanks.’ Alex stood, chair scraping as he did. ‘I’m sure you’ve been practising, but I don’t think you can flamenco to this song.’
She’d hoped he would say yes. That holding her close and feeling her skin might make him amenable to listen to her as she made her act of contrition. Hoped, yes. But not expected. So when he glided smoothly from the room, one large hand still wrapped around the neck of the champagne bottle, she followed, making a quick detour past her table to collect the parcel she’d stashed there earlier.