5 | First Weekend The Wedding
The week crawled by.
Monday morning, I was halfway through my coffee when my phone buzzed.
Hailey: So when are you going to call me and explain what’s happening with Theo?
I stared at the message. Started typing a response. Deleted it. Started again.
Me: There’s nothing to…
Delete.
Me: It’s not really…
Delete.
I set the phone face down on my desk.
Tuesday, she tried again:
Hailey: Tessa. Come on. I’m dying here.
I typed out three different responses during my lunch break. Sent none of them.
Wednesday:
Hailey: Fine. Be mysterious. But I expect details soon.
Thursday, I caved. Partly because she wouldn’t stop. Partly because I needed to say something before the silence became its own kind of answer.
Me: It’s not a big deal. He walked me home. We’re going to Emma’s wedding together.
Her response came in under ten seconds.
Hailey: NOT A BIG DEAL??? Tessa!!!
Hailey: You and Theo????
Hailey: I KNEW IT
Me: There’s nothing to know. It’s just a wedding.
Hailey: Sure. Just a wedding. ????
I put my phone on silent after that. Shoved it in my purse. Tried to focus on work and failed spectacularly.
Saturday arrived.
I stood in front of my mirror, adjusting the dress for the third time. Black—tight, structured, hitting just above the knee. The kind of dress that required effort. The kind you felt every time you moved.
The heels were worse. Four inches with straps that carved lines into my ankles before I’d even left the apartment. I’d worn them twice before. Both times ended in pain.
I stared at my reflection. Full makeup—smoky eyes, sharp liner, lips darker than I usually wore. Hair swept up in a style that had taken twenty minutes and three YouTube tutorials to master, not a strand out of place.
Dress to impress.
My phone buzzed on the dresser.
Theo: I’m outside.
I grabbed my clutch, took one last look in the mirror—at this version of myself I’d assembled—and headed downstairs.
His car was sleek. A dark sedan, clean lines, the kind of understated elegance that cost more than it looked. Theo was leaning against the driver’s door, hands in his pockets, staring at his phone.
Charcoal suit, white shirt, top button undone. His hair was pushed back, still slightly too long at the ends.
I’d seen him dressed up before.
I didn’t remember it looking like that.
He looked up when I stepped outside.
His hand stopped halfway to his pocket.
His eyes tracked over me—slow—and his expression sharpened.
“You look—” He stopped. Cleared his throat. “Hi.”
Heat flooded my neck so I looked down at the clutch in my hands just to avoid his eyes.
“Hi.”
He opened the passenger door, and I slid in, the dress riding up slightly as I sat. The leather seat was cool against my legs. I tugged at the hem, trying to make it behave.
Theo got in beside me, started the engine. Soft rock played through the speakers—music I didn’t recognize but that made the space feel smaller. More intimate.
We pulled away from the curb.
“Nervous?” he asked.
“A little.”
“We’ll be fine.” His voice was steady. Confident.
I nodded, staring out the window as the city slid past us.
Ten minutes into the drive, I shifted in my seat.
Then again.
The dress felt like a cage. The heels pinched. My hair was pulled so tight I could feel it in my temples.
I adjusted the seatbelt.
Crossed my legs.
Uncrossed them.
“You okay?” Theo glanced over.
“Fine.”
“You’re fidgeting.”
“I’m not—” I sighed. “It’s just… a little uncomfortable.”
He frowned. “The dress?”
“The dress. The shoes. All of it.”
“Then why wear them?”
I hesitated. The answer sat in my throat, sharp-edged and embarrassing. “Charles always said I looked best like this.” I laughed, but it came out hollow. “Guess old habits die hard.”
Theo’s hands tightened on the steering wheel. Just for a second. Then released.
“Right.”
The sound landed heavy between us.
“Wait—no. That’s not—” I turned to him quickly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not trying to impress him. I just… I don’t know. Force of habit? It’s like my brain thinks this is what I’m supposed to look like.”
He was quiet for a moment. The guitar shifted to a slower melody.
“Charles gets stupider every time you tell me something new about him.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Why would you have a girl like you and spend all that time trying to make her into someone else?” He glanced at me, his expression hard. “What’s the point of that?”
I didn’t know what to say.
I looked down at my hands and didn’t answer.
The GPS chimed softly.
Arriving at destination.
“We’re here,” Theo said, pulling into the venue’s parking lot.
The reception hall was already in full swing by the time we arrived.
White lights strung across the ceiling in overlapping loops, casting everything in warm amber.
Round tables draped in champagne-colored linens.
A live band on a small stage—upright bass, piano, a singer in a dark blue dress crooning jazz.
People everywhere—laughing, drinking, swaying near the dance floor.
Emma spotted us almost immediately. She rushed over, beaming, her dress a cascade of lace and tulle that must have weighed twenty pounds.
“Tessa! You made it!” She hugged me tight enough that I felt her heartbeat through the fabric. Then pulled back to look at Theo. “And you brought a man. Finally.”
“Finally?” I echoed.
She waved a hand, already distracted by someone calling her name from across the room. “You know what I mean. Come on, your table’s over there. Drinks are at the bar. Dance, eat, have fun!”
She disappeared into the crowd before I could respond.
Theo’s hand found the small of my back, guiding me through the room. We found our table—thankfully not near Charles’s, I’d checked the seating chart twice—and sat.
A waiter appeared with champagne. We toasted to Emma, to new beginnings, to whatever this night was supposed to be.
The conversation flowed easily. He told me about a client meeting that had gone sideways, how he’d had to salvage it with nothing but coffee and the kind of charm that felt like lying but technically wasn’t.
I told him about the book I’d been reading, how the ending had disappointed me so thoroughly I’d almost thrown it across the room.
It felt normal.
Easy.
Like we’d done this before.
The band shifted into a slower song. The singer’s voice dropped into a lower register, intimate and aching.
I went very still.
“This song,” I said quietly.
Theo looked at me. “Yeah.”
“I haven’t heard this in years.”
“Me neither.”
We sat there, not looking at each other, as Taylor Swift’s “Mary’s Song” filled the space between us, its lyrics unspooling memories I’d folded up and put away somewhere I didn’t have to look at them.
His living room. His mother putting this song on and making us dance—Come on, you two, humor me—both of us rolling our eyes but taking each other’s hands anyway. Moving in awkward circles on the carpet, laughing more than dancing, neither of us admitting how much we didn’t actually mind.
My chest tightened.
“Dance with me,” I said suddenly.
Theo’s eyebrows rose. “Now?”
“We should be seen together. That’s the point, right?”
He held my gaze for a beat—I couldn’t quite read what passed across his face—but he stood, offering his hand.
The dance floor was crowded, but Theo found us a spot near the center. His hand settled on my waist. The other held mine. I placed my free hand on his shoulder, felt the fabric of his suit jacket under my palm—wool, expensive, perfectly tailored.
We moved together. Slow and easy. He was a good dancer—confident, smooth, like he’d done this a thousand times.
“You’re full of surprises,” I said.
“Am I?”
“You dance. You dress like this. You drive a car that probably costs more than my apartment.”
His mouth twitched. “I contain multitudes.”
I laughed. The tightness in my chest loosened just a fraction.
The song shifted. Still slow, but softer now. More intimate.
Theo leaned down, his breath warm against my ear. “Charles is here.”
My pulse jumped. “Where?”
“Three o’clock. By the bar. Watching.”
I started to turn my head.
“Don’t look.” Theo’s arm tightened around my waist, pulling me closer. “Just… stay with me.”
My body responded before my brain could catch up—leaning into him, fitting against him like we’d done this before. Like we knew each other’s rhythms.
His hand spread wider on my back. His thumb brushed against my spine, a slow, deliberate stroke that made my breath catch.
His cheek brushed my temple.
This didn’t feel like dancing anymore.
We were pressed together, moving as one, and every point of contact felt electric. His hand on my back. My hand on his shoulder. The way our hips aligned as we swayed.
My eyes drifted toward the bar.
Charles was still there. Drink frozen halfway to his mouth.
Watching.
Then he turned. Walked toward the exit. The door swung shut behind him.
He was gone.
I should pull away now. Put space between us. The performance was over.
But I didn’t move.
And neither did Theo.
We stayed like that—pressed together, swaying to music I wasn’t really hearing anymore—until the song ended and another began. Upbeat. Wrong tempo for what we were doing.
Only then did we step apart.
His hand slid from my waist. My fingers loosened on his shoulder.
We stood there on the dance floor, people moving around us, the music too loud and too bright for whatever this moment was.
“Tessa—” he started.
“Theo—” I said at the same time.
We both stopped. Smiled awkwardly.
“You first,” I said.
He opened his mouth. Closed it. Whatever he’d been thinking, he kept it.
“Never mind,” he said finally. “Let’s sit down.”
Back at the table, I sat down with a sigh and immediately slipped my heels off. The relief was instant and overwhelming.
“Better?” Theo asked, amused.
“So much better. These things are medieval torture devices.”
I reached for my champagne and let the bubbles burn down my throat.
We fell into conversation again—easy, comfortable. He made me laugh twice. I caught myself watching the way his mouth moved when he talked.
The way his eyes crinkled slightly when he smiled.
This was dangerous territory.
I was reaching for my water glass when a shadow fell across the table.
Charles.
????
Charles is back. What do you think he's about to say? ????
Every comment and reaction means more than you know—if you’re enjoying the story, please leave a little trace. I read and love every single one.