Chapter 12 #2
“Yet,” I said, light as a joke. I reached for his hand and tangled our fingers—just playing a part that had become so very real to me. Movement rippled like a wave through the crowd, and I glanced around and spotted Theo by the altar. “Should we go find our seats?”
“Let’s,” Dean agreed, squeezing my fingers as he pulled me closer to his side. I went easily and wished there was a safe way for me to find out if I was alone in this.
We followed his parents to the front row of chairs, a brief silence settling between us that I tried not to misinterpret.
Just my anxiety raising its ugly head, a flashback to the kid who never ran with the popular crowd, who studied a little too hard and spent a few too many weekends hanging out with family rather than friends.
A little too quiet, a little too different, but never enough to draw the attention of bullies. Just… there.
“You know you’re attractive, right?”
That’s what Dean had said that night on the beach before he kissed me—a real kiss, no rehearsals, not putting on a show for anyone. A reminder, he’d said. I could have used one right now.
“Sorry,” he murmured as we sat down, voice pitched for my ears alone. “I know they can be a lot.”
I shot him a surprised look. “Your mom and James? They’re fine—really sweet, actually. I really don’t mind. It’s why you brought me, right?”
“Right,” he said slowly, almost like he’d forgotten, his thumb sweeping over my knuckle.
Before I could press, the music softened, then rose again in a new key. The crowd straightened, a hush sweeping through like wind through tall reeds, and Theo turned with a smile so wide it made me ache with secondhand happiness.
This was it—the reason we were here. Theo and Charley and their day, their love.
Everything else could wait.
Sunset splashed the ceremony in vibrant hues—dusty rose skies and the sea a band of fading bronze, the waves whispering along with the crowd.
I’d never experienced anything quite like it.
On my mom’s side, weddings roared through the neighborhood like parades, three-day extravaganzas where even the flower girls had costume changes. This was different.
There was the hush of everyone holding their breath, vows exchanged in a murmur that carried.
It made my ribs ache in the best way. Next to me, Dean was silent.
A week ago, I might have mistaken his measured air for disinterest, even boredom—I knew better now, caught the quiet rise and fall of his chest, the way he shifted just slightly when Charley stepped forward and took Theo’s hand.
I leaned my knee lightly against Dean’s, and he slid me a quick, bright glance from under his lashes before his focus returned to the ceremony. He didn’t move away.
The terrace where we had dinner overlooked the ocean, a dozen little lamps pouring light like honey across the tables.
Conversation rose and fell like tidewater, dictated by the arrival of the courses and several speeches that were short but heartfelt, punctuated by laughter and applause.
At our end of the table, Dean was still unusually quiet, flicking repeated glances at Charley, the corners of his mouth tucked in like he was trying hard to keep his smile in check.
I leaned a little closer for a gentle bump of our elbows. “You know,” I murmured over the clink of cutlery and a new round of applause, “now’s your moment. I know how much you love the spotlight.”
His snort was barely audible, eyes more gray than blue in the low light. “Right. Because this evening’s just crying out for yet another monologue about love and my sister’s taste in guys.”
“Well.” I moved my hands in a pros-and-cons kind of way. “Your mom’s probably still holding out hope. Just saying.”
He glanced at where she was laughing to Charley’s left. “You think so?”
“Absolutely. She’s been eyeing you since her own toast—like maybe you’ll spontaneously burst into a speech if she stares hard enough.”
He didn’t answer right away—just tilted his head slightly, lips pressed together like he was actually considering it.
“What?” I asked, caught halfway between disbelief and a laugh. “You’re not really gonna…”
Somehow, my reaction seemed to swing it for him. “Why the hell not,” he said, his tone a tad too casual, and took a steady sip of wine.
“You know it’s not—I was joking. Your mom’s been glancing over a couple of times, max. It’s perfectly fine if you don’t.”
He shot me a little smirk that sat mostly around the eyes, then picked up his knife, gave it a firm tap against the rim of his glass, and rose.
In his slim-fitting suit, he cut a striking figure, all contrast and contradiction.
That classic jawline softened by the flush of sunburn just at the bridge of his nose.
His shirt collar had creased slightly on one side, unusual for him, like he’d tugged at it at some point without thinking.
But his posture? Confident in a way that made people quieten down instinctively.
He didn’t demand attention, he just… held it.
He sure held mine.
Charley looked over from two seats away, surprised and amused, a little suspicious. He winked at her.
“I wasn’t planning to speak,” he started.
“Honestly, I hate this sort of thing—talking in front of people, being sentimental with an audience.” He hesitated for one beat, fingers curled tight around his wine glass.
“But then you lot went and made it feel like… like something worth saying something about.”
Charley laughed, a hand over her chest. “Eloquent, Dean.”
“Mockery.” He shook his head with an air of great sadness, much more at ease now. “And I was just about to go into all the reasons why I love you. Shame, really. It would have been deeply moving.”
Laughter scattered lightly around the tables. When he caught my eye, I smiled at him, nodding quickly, and he raised his glass a fraction.
“Charley,” he continued, turning to face her. “You’ve always known what you wanted. You go after it with terrifying efficiency. And Theo…” Dean’s voice was warm. “You know what she needs, and you’ve never made her apologize for being exactly who she is. That’s no small thing.”
Charley blew him a kiss, grinning so hard her entire face seemed to crack apart with it.
He grinned back, cheeks a little red, and looked like he might stop there.
Then, almost an afterthought, he added, “I used to think relationships had to be hard work, that they had to be complicated to be real. But lately, I’ve started to think maybe the best ones…
They just fit. You two are proof of that. Cheers.”
I was a little late in raising my glass along with everyone else, hope exploding into a bright, warm balloon in my chest. Because that…
had felt like something—like more than just a clever finish.
Maybe? I glanced up just in time to catch his mom looking at me with easy warmth and a smile that seemed to agree.
When Dean dropped back down next to me, I leaned into his side. “Nice speech.”
“It really wasn’t,” he said.
“You’re wrong.” I angled my head to look at him. “It was short, sweet, and from the heart. Just right.”
For a beat, he watched me, his face a gold-washed relief in the glow of the closest table lamp. Something seemed to move behind his eyes—hesitation or uncertainty, gone far too soon to tell.
“Thank you,” he said.
I ducked in to kiss the corner of his mouth—intended as just a quick peck, really, but he turned his head and made it a proper brush of our lips that lingered with me long after we’d pulled apart.
Maybe.