Chapter 6
The day of the wedding
Sara: It’s My Wedding Day!!!!
Beckett: It is way too early for group texts.
Sara: Not my fault if you didn’t prioritize your beauty rest last night.
Sara: See you all at the altar!!!!!!!
It’s a perfect summer wedding because how could it not be?
The weather is clear and warm but not too hot.
I don’t sweat, even during the half-hour ceremony where we stand directly under the slowly setting sun.
Though my face definitely doesn’t stay dry, tears streaming down my cheeks as I listen to Sara and Marcus pledge their love to one another, their vows so heartfelt I see more than one person wiping their eyes.
Beckett’s gaze flits between me and his sister, a grin seemingly permanently etched across his face.
We spent the whole day together at the beach the day before and stayed up late into the night talking.
It didn’t go further than that, and though I wanted nothing more than to smash my face against his like I did with my old Barbie and Ken dolls, we refrained from doing anything more than light cuddling, some unspoken agreement urging us to wait, to take this time to get to know one another again before we take things to the next level.
With how good he looks in his light-tan linen suit, white shirt unbuttoned low enough to show off a peek of his pecs, I don’t know that my restraint is going to survive the night.
But I turn my attention to the bride and groom, delighted to see my former best friend so happy. It will take some time for our relationship to fully recover, but it’s hard to put into words how much it means to me to stand with her on one of the most important days of her life.
After the ceremony, the wedding guests are shuffled to a giant patio overlooking the ocean.
Fairy lights are strung up overhead, and fragrant white flowers line every flat surface.
Soft candlelight adds to the ambience. A jazz quartet plays softly throughout the cocktail hour, and dinner before the DJ takes over, introducing Sara and Marcus’s first dance.
Beckett reaches for my hand as the couple sways in the center of the dance floor, and I twine our fingers together. When Sara beckons for the rest of the guests to join in, I spin into Beckett’s embrace like his arms were made especially for me.
Fuck, he smells good.
For a second, we simply sway. Then Beckett’s hand presses against the small of my back, dragging my body closer into his embrace. We are definitely not leaving room for Jesus, and I shiver as our cheeks press together.
“I want to kiss you so badly.” His mouth drifts along the line of my jaw, his breath tickling the shell of my ear. “But I’m afraid once I start, I won’t want to stop.”
“Promise?” My voice is breathy, a mere hint of a whisper.
“I’ve thought about undressing you many times, Lucy, but never once did those fantasies take place in the middle of the dance floor at my sister’s wedding.”
I put just enough space between us so I can look him in the eye. “You fantasized about me?”
“More than was appropriate.”
“Beckett?”
“Hmm?”
“Would you say Sara owes us one? For all the emotional trauma she put us through?”
He arches an eyebrow. “I suppose.”
“So then she doesn’t really get to complain if we ditch the rest of her wedding?”
He grins, already leading me toward the edge of the dance floor. “I like the way you think, Goose.”
I tug him to a halt. “We should at least say goodbye.”
Sara chooses that exact moment to look our way. There’s no surprise in her eyes, just a knowing smile as she cocks her head toward the exit.
Neither of us needs more than that. Taking off at the closest thing to a run we can manage without disrupting the entire wedding, we hightail it out to the beach.
It’s an hour after the sun completely set, and the sky is a dark navy covered with stars, the kind of view you’ll never get in New York.
The sand is cool under my feet as I kick off my wedges and make for the ocean, Beckett’s hand wrapped securely around mine.
All I want in this moment is to lose myself in those piercing green eyes, the ones that have always symbolized love and care and home.
But I’m almost afraid to look at him, as if he might not really be here, after all.
But his fingers tighten around mine, drawing me to a halt at the edge of the water. The waves lap over our feet, and all it takes is a gentle tug to turn me into his embrace.
For a moment, all we do is stare at each other, the only sound the rumble of the ocean, and farther off in the distance, the dance floor kicking into high gear at Sara’s wedding.
Beckett cups my cheek in his hand, his thumb stroking along the line of my jaw. “Is it just me, or does this almost feel like it’s not real?”
I laugh, leaning closer into his warmth. “I may have pictured this exact scenario once or twice when I was a teenager.” Probably closer to a thousand times, but no need to go full transparency, at least not when it comes to my embarrassing childhood crush.
He brushes his lips across my forehead. “I really missed you, Lucy. I know you were always Sara’s friend, but I always felt like you were mine too. And then all of the sudden you weren’t there. I missed your laugh and your quiet consideration and even your abominable taste in TV shows.”
I pull back slightly, mock offense all over my face. “Excuse me, my reality TV knowledge has won me more than one bar trivia night, thank you very much.”
He chuckles, and it rumbles over my skin where our chests are pressed together. “I don’t doubt it.” His voice softens. “To think, all this time, you’ve been only a subway ride away.”
“A subway ride and a lot of pent-up family drama.”
“Think you and Sar will ever get back to what you used to be?”
“No.” I smile. “But hopefully we can find our way to something better.”
“And you and me?”
My teeth pull down on my lip. “What about you and me?”
“Is there a future for us, Lucy?” He asks the question so openly, so honest and vulnerable and hopeful.
My heart squelches into a pile of goo. “I sure as hell hope so.”
He grins. “I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s okay.”
“It’s about damn time.”
His lips cut off my snarky response, pressing to mine with a gentle urgency. For a moment, we linger in it, this simple kiss years in the making.
And then there is no more lingering.
Beckett’s free hand cups the nape of my neck, and he tilts my head up, angling his mouth over mine so he can deepen the kiss. He sucks my lower lip before his tongue sweeps into my mouth, and I moan. His fingers dig into my skin with the sound, and I arch my body, seeking more of him. All of him.
Our hips press flush together, and his desire is as clear as mine.
Still definitely not into public exhibition, but if he asked me to strip down right here on the beach, my dress would already be in the sand.
But he doesn’t push for more, and once I regain some semblance of brain power, I don’t either, content to lose myself in the softness of his lips, the silky feel of his hair as I drag my fingers through it, the delightful groans that tingle against my mouth.
I know we will have to stop kissing at some point, for practicality’s sake, just as I know neither of us wants to be the one to end this.
“Maybe we should go back to the room,” I finally suggest.
“God yes.” His lips move to my neck, as if he can’t bear to fully pull himself away.
I lead the way this time, the two of us half running as we make our way from the beach back into the lobby, bypassing the wedding completely, and down the hall toward our room.
Beckett closes the door to our bedroom, and for a moment, we’re frozen in the middle of the room, breathless. “Fucking bunk beds,” he says with a sigh, and we both burst into laughter.
I take his hand in mine once again, dragging him toward the bathroom. “Come on. I could use a shower, how about you?”
“You are full of good ideas tonight.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, bringing our bodies flush and making it that much harder to walk. But his mouth skirts up the curve of my neck once again, so I don’t mind the inconvenience.
The bathroom door closes behind us, and I spin in Beckett’s arms, looping mine around his neck. This bathroom is huge, with double sinks and plenty of counter space and a shower built for two.
All of a sudden it hits me that I’m here. With Beckett. I finally kissed Beckett Thatcher. And somehow, it was even better than I ever could have imagined.
He seems to come to the same realization. He cups my cheek in one hand again, the other still tight around my waist, holding me close like he is afraid to let me go. His thumb brushes over my cheekbone before he lowers his lips to mine.
This kiss feels different, already a sense of knowing behind it. His lips are warm and soft, and they move over mine gently, delicate pecks that tease me, stirring heat in my belly as I press in for more. More pressure, more heat, more Beckett.
He deepens the kiss, keeping the pace slow, so slow I want to whimper with impatience while at the same time never wanting the sensation to end.
He sucks on my bottom lip, and my hips drag against his.
I lace my fingers in his hair and trace the seam of his lips with my tongue.
He moans, and we open fully to each other, tongues and teeth clashing.
My hands reach for the lapels of his jacket, shoving it off his shoulders. I need skin, his skin on my skin, and there are too many clothes in the way, too many buttons on this damn shirt still separating me from him.
He knocks my hands out of the way, popping a few buttons before tugging the whole thing over his head. He’s glorious and bare and perfect, and I don’t get more than a second to take him in before he’s spinning me so my back is pressed to his front.
“Is it all right if I take this off you?” He mumbles the words into my bare shoulder, his fingers toying with the zipper of my dress.