Forty-Two
Nathan
Weddings are hell.
Today is no different.
Except it is because today, there’s Sienna.
I don’t know why I thought I could get through the day without looking at her. I tried. Reminded myself to keep my eyes forward, to keep my distance because I leave in twenty-four hours, but then she stepped out of the suite this afternoon, and I was completely, utterly screwed.
She was wearing this floor-length dress in a deep wine color—the kind that would stain your lips if you drank too slow. The silky fabric skimmed over her curves, dipping low in the front. It was enough to tease skin that would drive a man out of his mind but still elegant enough to make her look untouchable.
Her hair was soft curls tucked behind her ear on one side, cascading down the other, baring the line of her throat.
When she brushed past me, mumbling about needing her clutch like she hadn’t just robbed me of every ounce of common sense, I realized that she had no idea. No idea how hard I had to fight the urge to push her back inside that suite, lock the door, and show her exactly how bad I wanted her.
I didn’t, of course. Because if I let myself touch her like that again, I wouldn’t stop.
So I let her go and spent the day paying for it.
The ceremony was fine. The usual clichés, the usual speeches, the usual grand declarations of love from people who haven’t yet learned how messy it can get. I stood off to the side, playing the supportive boyfriend role with Sienna’s family. I half-listened, half-watched Sienna the entire time. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. For any sign she might feel uncomfortable. That’s how I justify it, anyway.
She smiled the whole time, laughing at the silly stories, even dabbing at her eyes when her brother got choked up reciting his vows. A distant relative rose to read a poem about fate and forever, and without warning, Sienna’s fingers dug into my knee like I was her anchor, and it was the most natural thing in the world.
She didn’t let go.
I didn’t make her.
The lies came easy today. Too easy.
Her mother was warm towards me, pulling me into some family photos, although I managed to dodge most of them, disappearing at the right moments, slipping into the crowd, because I didn’t want Sienna’s fake boyfriend ruining the memories they’d look back on someday.
I had a drink with her dad at the bar. We talked about football—his team, my team, how both of them were a goddamn disaster this season. It was simple. Easy. He laughed, clapped me on the back at one point, like he’d already decided I was alright.
I didn’t know why I was trying so hard with them.
Maybe it was some deep psychological bullshit about wanting to be accepted by a family one day. To know I could do it.
Or maybe it was just because they were hers.
We smiled. We played the part. We fooled them all.
We keep up the charade through dinner and dancing. Fake smiles, fake touches that feel a little too real. She stands beside me, and I rest my hand on her back. We laugh at jokes from people I barely know. Each time I catch her eye, a pang of guilt flares because we’re lying to these people. They’re good, decent folks, and we’re conning them for a weekend.
Then I remind myself, it’s only for now. Tomorrow, the wedding is over. We part ways. They’ll have their family photos and sweet memories. Sienna will eventually find someone else to fill this plus-one position permanently. Someone who’s not me.
I set down my drink, ignoring the churn in my stomach.
That’s how it goes, right? This ends soon. I’m a professional at walking away.
But tonight, with Sienna wearing that dress—hair soft, eyes bright, laughing freely—I feel the cost of it more than ever.
Tomorrow, I’ll vanish from their lives. I’ll vanish from her life.
Something in my chest knots tight at the thought, so I focus on the swirl of wedding guests instead. One more day. Just one. Then she’s free to find whoever she needs. And me? I’ll go back to my old routine, my mother, my endless deals, and no illusions about fate or forever. That’s how it has to be.