Chapter 14
BILLIE
I could feel the pulse in my neck, frantic and insistent, counting down the seconds to when Bailey and Clarissa would swing open the church doors and shove me, literally or figuratively, down the aisle.
Was it normal to sweat through the lining of a wedding dress when one was not actually getting married?
The air between my skin and the fabric was a sauna.
My hands, for once, were not holding a tablet or a phone and gripped the cascading bouquet so tightly I risked decapitating the peonies.
The stems were trembling in sync with my hands, and I was genuinely worried I might faint, or worse, vomit. Maybe both, in that order.
It was a photo shoot. A. Photo. Shoot. My rational brain repeated this in time with my heartbeat, but my body clearly had not gotten the memo.
Why did it feel so real? Why did the low, romantic strains of Adele feel like they were wrapping around my ribcage, squeezing until I was lightheaded and giddy and sick all at once?
“Okay.” Bailey and Clarissa opened the doors, and everything started to go black.
I shut my eyes for a split second, like maybe if I didn’t see the church, the aisle, or Adam, it would all dissolve. No luck. The inside of my eyelids were a kaleidoscope of nervous colors, and when I opened them, the scene was even more precious, more charged.
The old church was candlelit for ambiance, a detail that would have made me snort derisively under any other circumstances, but today I was all anxiety and wet eyes, and the candlelight just made everything softer and more dangerous.
Adam stood at the end of the aisle in a tux, and my legs almost gave out.
Why did he have to look so—damn, so much like himself?
He’d never cared about clothes, but he wore the tux like it was part of him, the cut sharp off his broad shoulders but the sleeves just a shade too long, as though he’d borrowed it last minute, like he did everything else in life.
He was fidgeting with the cuffs, not looking up, not scanning the room for me, just staring at the floor as if he could burn a hole through it.
My mouth was dry. I wanted a glass of water. A bottle of vodka. A large, conveniently timed earthquake.
“Okay, just walk towards me. Slowly,” Zion called out.
I did what he asked, but I couldn’t feel my feet. My legs were vibrating. I had to force one foot in front of the other from muscle memory, hoping every step would land, like a baby learning to walk. I kept my eyes on the stained glass or the painted arches overhead, anywhere but Adam.
He was there anyway, in my mind, in every atom of space, a gravity pulling my gaze no matter how hard I resisted. I glanced up, intending to look past him, but the moment I caught his eye, my knees buckled, and I just about collapsed onto the white runner.
His expression was unreadable. If I’d had to name it, maybe… Wonder? Disbelief? Like he was seeing me for the first time, or the thousandth, but never expected I’d appear at the end of an aisle, even as a joke.
I don’t know how I made it to the front. Maybe I blacked out, maybe I floated, maybe I was carried on the sheer power of Zion’s verbal barrage, “Keep going. That’s it. Beautiful. Just like that. Perfect. Stunning.”
At the altar, Bailey relieved me of the bouquet with a quick wink and whispered, “Just breathe, you’re almost done.” But I wasn’t breathing, I was shuddering, and the moment my hands were empty, I realized how useless they felt.
Zion instructed, “Okay gorgeous people, hold hands, look at each other, oh my god, yes, that’s the shot. Adam, can we get a little more profile? Perfect, Billie, so soft, so natural, love it.”
The moment my hands slid into Adam’s, it was like an anchor.
I wasn’t alone anymore, and my heartbeat just sort of syncopated to his.
It was exactly the same the first time he sat down next to me on my grandparents’ porch.
My body re-regulated itself. I’d been wailing and sobbing, but when he sat down, the tears still flowed, but I cried silently, the grief was calm, it was a release instead of a violent attack.
It was as if my body knew it was safe now and could express itself without fear of being hurt. I could be vulnerable and protected.
That was how I felt every time I was near Adam. My entire nervous system just exhaled. I’d been so terrified to meet Adam at the altar when really, meeting him anywhere was the most calming place I could be.
Zion moved around us, holding the camera like a sniper. His voice was in the background, and I tried to listen, but mostly, all I could think about was how incredible Adam looked. “Perfect, hold right there, chin up, eyes on the groom, love it, love it, that’s it—beautiful.”
Bailey got a call and scurried off to take it, and a few minutes later Zion disappeared too after announcing he had to go change out his lens.
And then it was just me and Adam, standing together in borrowed wedding finery, at an altar that had probably seen a thousand real couples and would never know we were just faking it. It was just us.
“You look…” Adam exhaled, not finishing his sentence.
His non-compliment sent a shiver racing down my spine, shooting straight between my legs after making a detour to my heart. I’d had plenty of men say pretty words to me and not feel a thing. How could Adam not compliment me and light up my body like it was the Eiffel Tower? I did not know.
“You look, too,” I blurted, which made no sense, but he smiled, and my heart dropkicked my brain.
I was hyper-aware of him, the scruff on his jaw, the scar just above his eyebrow, the tattoo peeking out from his collar, and the way his hands flexed and unflexed, then dropped mine as if he’d touched a hot stove.
“The song…when I saw you—” he started but was interrupted.
“Oh, nice, this is perfect.” Zion was back at it, circling us with the camera, narrating every movement. “Just keep looking at each other, just like that.”
That would not be a hardship. Looking into Adam Knight’s eyes had always been one of my favorite things to do. If not my favorite. I got lost in the golden swirls swimming in the sea of chocolate.
“Now, if we can just get a few ‘you may kiss the bride’ shots. I know you’re not actual models, so you don’t have to go for it, but just move as close to each other as you feel comfortable.”
Zion’s voice echoed around the cavernous church, making my nerves rattle.
I could feel my heart was performing a drum solo against my ribs.
Adam shifted closer, every inch of him radiating the kind of warmth that made my skin prickle, even through the satin fortress of the wedding dress.
Bailey stood off to the side, holding a light reflector and beaming like a proud parent at graduation.
Adam’s eyes caught mine. There was a heat in them that had my cheeks flushing.
He hesitated, just for a second, then leaned in.
His hand came up and cupped my cheek, thumb tracing the bone in a way that felt so intimate I nearly forgot we had an audience.
The heat of his breath warmed my face, I could smell mint and something clean, like fresh laundry, or maybe just him.
I let my eyes close, bracing for impact, an old, dull ache making itself known in my chest.
I felt the faintest brush of his lips, but at the last possible millimeter, Adam pulled back. My eyes snapped open, and I caught the faintest flicker of regret in his face. He didn’t say anything, just let his hand fall away. The chill of his absence was instantaneous.
I pushed down the flash of disappointment, letting logic remind me in sharp, clinical terms that this was not real. This was a favor to my sisters, a PR stunt, and, if the universe felt like laughing at me, a test of my ability to not combust on camera.
“Perfect! That was so hot!” Zion fanned himself as he flipped through the shots on the camera. “Wow, you guys should really think about an OnlyFans, cause wow. Okay, let’s get some candid shots now, walk together down the aisle, laugh a little, be romantic.”
I was still reeling from the near kiss, but I followed Adam’s lead, falling in step beside him.
Thankfully, the dress was easy to maneuver in, and I think I pulled off a graceful glide.
Adam reached for my hand, lacing our fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Maybe, once, it had been. I hated how my brain kept offering me these nostalgia bombs, like I was wandering through the gift shop of my own heartbreak.
Why couldn’t I just be the ice queen everyone accused me of being?
Why did Adam Knight get to hack past my defenses with a half-smile and a gentle brush of his thumb?
We ran through so many poses that my face started to ache.
Bailey and Birdie brought in flowers, switched out veils, and even made Adam wear a different tie because apparently “navy pops better on camera.” The kids came back, and we did group shots in front of the church.
The entire time, my body kept betraying me.
Every time Adam’s arm went around my waist, or even just grazed my shoulder, I felt the electric anticipation of being sixteen and sharing that first kiss, that first touch, with the only boy I’d ever really wanted.
At one point, Zion asked for a “dip kiss,” which Adam almost jokingly refused until Bailey started chanting, “Do it! Do it!” like we were at a pep rally, and even got some passersby to join in.
He looked at me, a silent question in his eyes.
I nodded, too tired to fight or care, and he dipped me back in a move so smooth my hair swept the floor.
The kiss never happened—his lips hovered a breath away from mine—but the look we exchanged was more than enough to make Bailey let out a wild, shrieky “Yas!” from the sidelines.
The shoot finally wound down after what felt like a year but was, in reality, two hours and fourteen minutes.
We headed back in through the shop’s front door because the final shots were on the front of the church steps.
Birdie swooped into the dressing room to help me out of the dress, and I happily slid back into my jeans, white t-shirt, and favorite gray sweater, which suddenly felt like a security blanket.
My face was scrubbed clean, every pin yanked from my hair, and still, I could feel Adam.
His presence lingered, a ghostly handprint on my lower back, my jawline, my neck.
When I finished un-glamming in record time, everyone was still gathered in the front of the shop.
Cole had picked up the boys and the twins an hour earlier and brought them home.
Carly was babysitting them, so Adam was alone.
Adam, still in his tux, was talking to Zion about his time as a Navy SEAL.
Thankfully, since everyone was occupied, I would be able to do my favorite goodbye, the Irish exit.
I needed fresh air. I needed a shower. I needed my bed. I needed to not be around people. Especially Adam Knight.
Outside, the sun had dipped low enough to throw dramatic shadows across the parking lot.
I walked fast, pretending I didn’t have a care in the world.
But when I reached my SUV, I stopped cold.
All four tires were flat—no, not flat, absolutely annihilated.
Little rubber shreds decorated the pavement like confetti.
Something in my head buzzed, a hornet’s nest of adrenaline and fear.
I scanned the back lot, but nobody was there.
I looked down the alleyway, and it was empty.
No one was lurking, no cars driving slow, no distant footsteps.
Still, the knowledge of feeling like I was being watched earlier pressed against my spine.
The letters. The creepy break-in. The weird text.
What the fuck was going on?
I heard footsteps behind me and jumped as I spun around to find my sisters.
“Oh my god!” Birdie dropped the armload of bags she held and rushed over to me, giving me a hug. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I patted her with one arm.
“Who would do this?” Bailey was pulling out her phone as she kneeled beside my car to inspect the damage. “We need to call the police.”
“No,” I barked.
“No?” Both sisters froze and looked at me as if I needed to be admitted into a psych ward.
“What do you mean, no?” Bailey asked.
“Don’t call nine-one-one.” My tone was calm and assertive, even though my hands were shaking. “I have a direct line to a detective.”
Birdie shook her head. “A detective?”
“There’s been some… stuff, going on. I’ll explain everything.” I pulled out the detective’s card and my phone. “I should have told you both. Sorry,” I said in a voice that was supposed to sound apologetic, but I feared it came out sounding sarcastic.
I dialed the number, feeling my sisters’ eyes burning holes into my profile.
“Detective Ramos,” he answered.
“What is going on?” Bailey asked at the same time.
“Are you okay?” Birdie filled out the trio of speakers.
I lifted my hand to quiet them. Once I filled in the detective, I knew, like Lucy, I’d have a lot of explaining to do.