2. Chapter 2
Tiff adjusts her veil for what has to be the hundredth time, taking a long breath as she smooths down her silky white gown, and pretends her hands aren’t shaking.
She might be nervous, but she’s beautiful and radiating happiness.
So much so that it makes my chest physically ache.
My cousin. My family. One of the three girls I’d fight a war for is about to get married.
“Stop staring at me like that,” she says through a suppressed smile. “You’re making me more nervous.”
“Can’t help it.” I lean against the wall of the tiny room in the church, knocking a few old hymn books as I cross my arms and take her in. “My cousin is getting married. To Jamie Nicks, of all people.”
She laughs, the sound echoing in the small space. Everyone is already seated, the bridesmaids are getting ready to walk, and we’re hiding in this room until the organ plays.
“I know. Weird, right?” she says.
“Understatement of the century.”
Jamie Nicks. The preppiest asshole at my high school and a guy I punched so hard he had to get a nose job is about to become my family.
Turns out he’s not as bad as I thought. He's actually a pretty decent guy.
Good, even. A father. A partner. Someone who looks at my cousin like he'd go through hell and back just to be with her, and he did.
He gave up everything and now coaches football at the local high school just to make sure Ella and Tiff can have whatever they want.
Don’t get me wrong, I still find it weird, but after seeing them together and being a real family, I know they were made for each other.
Tiff steps closer, her dress rustling with the movement. She reaches for my hand, and I let her take it, her fingers cool against mine.
“I'm really happy for you,” I say, clearing my throat after. “Like, the happiest I've ever been for another person. You deserve this. You and Ella deserve everything.”
She blinks quickly, and a small tear escapes.
Fuck. I need to stop talking before she starts bawling.
“Don't,” I warn, pointing at her face. “You'll mess up your makeup, and Madison will murder me.”
She laughs, though tears are spilling over now. I take the handkerchief out of my pocket and dab her cheeks gently, careful to avoid her carefully lined lashes. “Madison's going to murder you anyway. She thinks you're being 'emotionally constipated' about your feelings.”
I roll my eyes, and once I've cleaned Tiff up, I step back. Tucking my handkerchief back in my pocket, I say, “Madison needs to mind her own business.”
“Oh, please. She’s never minded her own business a day in her life.” Tiff squeezes my hand. “But she's not wrong. About you... avoiding things.”
Things.
Honey.
We both know what she means, but neither of us says it out loud.
Saying it makes it real, and I’ve been doing a pretty good job pretending I’m fine.
That seeing Honey today, after months of barely answered texts, won’t wreck me.
That standing up there at the altar while she’s on the other side won’t feel like someone’s taking a sledgehammer to my heart.
I've been lying to myself since she left, pretending that she didn’t gut me, and I’m sure everyone sees it.
“Today's not about me,” I say, deflecting. “Today's about you and Jamie and that little girl out there who's probably driving Madison insane with questions about whether she can throw extra flower petals.”
Tiff's smile softens. “She asked if she could throw all of them at once.”
“That's my girl.”
We stand there for a moment, just the two of us, and I feel the weight of everything we've been through hit me all at once. All the shit we survived. The custody battles. The sleepless nights.
And now she's here.
Getting married.
Starting something new.
“Come here,” I say, pulling her into a hug before I can overthink it.
She melts into me, her head tucking under my chin the way she did that night when her father kicked her out and she had nowhere else to go.
“Thank you,” she whispers against my chest. “For everything. For Ella. For being there when I had no one. For—”
She cuts herself off.
I frown, pulling back just enough to look at her. “For what?”
“For never giving up on me.”
“Don't.” My voice cracks, and I hate it. “You don't have to thank me. You're family. That's what we do.”
“There’s, uh, something else I need to tell you,” she says quietly.
Her hand slides down, hesitating for a second before resting lightly against her stomach. My eyes follow the movement.
“Tiff...?”
She lets out a shaky breath, her smile small and uncertain. “I was going to wait to tell you after today, but I think you’ll figure it out at the ceremony.”
“Wait for what?”
Her eyes meet mine, and another tear falls down her cheek.
“I’m pregnant.”
It takes me a second to register what she’s saying.
“You’re—” I blink, then huff out a breath that turns into a laugh before I can stop it. “You’re serious?”
She nods, a small laugh slipping out.
“Yeah. Took two tests just to be sure.”
A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it, my hand dragging over my face. “Jesus, Tiff.” I shake my head, grinning now. “That’s... that’s huge. Does Jamie know?”
She nods, her smile softening. “He knows. We found out together.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. “Of course you did. I’m so happy for you, Tiff.”
“Thanks, Z.”
“I’m going to have another niece or nephew already.” I pull her into me again, tighter this time. “You really don’t do anything halfway, do you?”
She laughs quietly against my chest. “Apparently not.”
I lean back, looking at her, and the nervousness hidden under all the excitement for today.
“Are you okay?” She nods even though I can tell she’s holding back. “It’s all just a little daunting, but maybe that’s the pregnancy hormones.”
I bend down so we’re eye-to-eye and I make sure she’s really hearing me. “You’ve got this. You always do.”
“Thank you.” She wipes her eyes carefully, so she doesn't smudge her mascara. “I love you, Zach.”
“Love you too, Tiff.”
There's a soft knock on the door, and the wedding coordinator pokes her head in. “We’re ready.”
Tiff takes a steady breath and smooths down her dress one last time. I offer her my arm, and she slips her hand through it, her grip tighter than it needs to be.
“Ready?” I ask.
“Ready.”
We step out of the small room and into the quiet hallway, the sounds of the ceremony muffled on the other side of the doors. Her grip tightens on my arm as we walk, the soft rustle of her dress the only thing breaking the silence between us.
The closer we get, the louder everything becomes. I start to hear the low hum of voices, the scrape of chairs, the faint swell of the organ starting up.
Tiff inhales beside me, sharp and steady, bracing herself.
I glance down at her. She looks straight ahead, her chin lifted, even though I can feel the nerves in the way her fingers press into my arm.
Then the doors open.
Everything hits me at once.
The church. The faces. The white and blue flowers lining the pews. At the very end of the aisle, Jamie stands at the altar in his tux, looking like he might pass out, cry, or both.
I take it in, but none of it matters, because all I see is her.
Honey.
I haven’t seen her in months, and it still hits the same. One look at her, and my heart is in my throat, like it’s been trying to find its way back to her this whole time.
She's at the front next to Madison, wearing the same blue dress, holding the same bouquet, acting like she’s just another bridesmaid at another wedding. Like she didn’t take the best parts of me with her when she left.
They’ve styled her hair in this soft, intricate way that looks almost too perfect to touch, and my fingers ache with the need to ruin it. I want to be the one standing behind her tonight, pulling out each pin, just to watch it fall loose over her shoulders.
Fat chance of that happening, though.
Her boyfriend, Chris, is sitting in the pews as I walk past, and I have to drag in a slow breath to keep myself in check. Every instinct in me wants to grab him by the tie and make it clear she was never supposed to be his.
But I force my attention away from him.
Back where it belongs.
Honey’s expression is flat, her gaze drifting just above us instead of meeting mine. I know why, because if she looked at me, she wouldn’t be able to pretend she’s happy to be here without me.
“Mommy!” Ella calls excitedly from beside Madison, who has to grab her before she bolts down the aisle.
That snaps whatever trance Honey is in, and our eyes meet. Just for a second, but long enough for my entire world to tilt on its axis.
This is wrong.
The thought hits me like a linebacker, knocking the air out of my lungs. I force myself to keep walking and keep it together. Tiff can’t feel how badly I’m coming apart inside.
This is so fucking wrong.
I should be walking down this aisle toward Honey. She should be the one in white. This should be us.
But it's not.
It's Tiff and Jamie.
I’m just the guy giving the bride away, forcing one foot in front of the other while the girl I love stands ten feet away, pretending I don’t still undo her.
When we reach the altar, Jamie steps forward, and I see it in his eyes. Gratitude. Respect. Maybe even something close to friendship.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, reaching for Tiff's hand. “For everything you've done for her, and for me.”
I huff out a quiet breath, nodding. “Yeah. Don’t make me regret it.”
He gives me a small, knowing look.
That’s when I lean in, just enough so no one else hears.
“If you hurt her,” I say. “I will make you wish you stayed on the sidelines. Don’t test me.”
Jamie doesn’t flinch, but his brows furrow before he gives me a nod. “Understood.”
“Good.”
I release Tiff's hand and kiss her on the cheek. Then she turns to Jamie, who just looks at her for a second as though none of us exist and it’s just the two of them. I know that feeling well. I get it every time Honey is in close proximity.
“Hi,” he says quietly, his voice a little rough. “You look perfect.”