Chapter 31 #2
The wedding is lovely, though, internal debates and all. Dom and I sit together for the ceremony and then later at the reception, and we both grin when we see Ben and Maven there, hand in hand and very much not divorced.
“Glad they got that figured out,” I say to Dom from where we’re seated at a table next to the wall of the tent—a soaring white affair, perfect for the occasion.
Dom nods, his eyes on them. “Me too.” Then he glances at the empty plate in front of me, scattered with crumbs. “You done?” he says. “Or do you want more?”
“I think I’m done,” I say. “Good cake, though.”
“It was.” Reaching over, he says, “I’ll throw these away. Do you want a drink?”
He makes the offer so casually that I accept. “I’d take a cup of water. Thanks.”
Since weddings are ideal for people-watching, I take in the crowd while Dom is gone.
The Ednas and their husbands are here, of course, and I spot Liv and Tate sitting together.
I look back and forth between them, and when Liv meets my eye, I give her a knowing smile. Her cheeks turn red, and I laugh.
I look around for Dom for a few seconds and then back to Liv, only to see her leaving her seat by Tate; so I turn my eyes back to the table in front of me, drumming my fingers and smoothing my dress.
When Dominic finally returns, I breathe a sigh of relief. There’s something vulnerable about sitting at a table by yourself, especially when half the town is present and sure to notice. He appears over my shoulder, and I turn toward him.
He’s still looking stupidly handsome.
“Here.” He passes me a cup of water, and I smile up at him.
“Thank you.”
“No prob—” But he breaks off as the music changes, his brows jumping at the gentle strain of melody that begins to float through the air.
And I know exactly why he’s stopped talking. Because for the second time in as many weeks, I recognize the song playing as the one I’ll always associate with our love: “If,” by Bread.
My gaze searches the space until it lands on Ari and Liv, who sure enough are watching Dom and I with a little smile. I narrow my eyes at them, but they shrug and give me looks of grinning apology—as though to say Sorry, but you should at least dance.
I’m not sure if I have the worst friends, or the best.
I turn quickly back to Dominic, holding up my hands to forestall his comment. “It wasn’t me,” I say. “I didn’t do this.”
His lips tug into gentle laughter. “I know,” he says. “I could tell by your expression.” He pauses, his gaze hesitant. “Still…” Then he steps closer. “It might be a pity to waste such a great song, right?” Then he holds one hand out, inviting me to take it.
I swallow, but my answer is already at my lips. “Yeah,” I say. “We should dance.”
He nods and eliminates the remaining distance between us, gathering me closer with such ease that I can’t help relaxing into him. My arms slide around his neck as the music settles gently over us, the words weaving and twining—There’s no one home but you—
And as I look up at Dom, as he looks down at me, I finally admit the truth to myself.
That I’m not the same person I used to be; neither is he. But who I am now still really, really likes who he is now.
Dominic’s eyes dart over my face, and he exhales roughly. “You look at me like that,” he says in a hoarse voice, “and I get ideas, Berkeley.”
I lift my brows at him, and after a second’s hesitation, he admits defeat. “Reese,” he corrects himself, ducking his head. “Not Berkeley.” Then his gaze jumps back to mine, serious but soft. “But it’s true.”
“I know,” I admit.
Because a heart with wings is difficult to hide and impossible to cage.
The music continues to drift overhead—If a man could be two places at one time, I’d be with you—and we’re dancing, but it’s really more of a sway.
The press of our bodies and the lull of the song and the warmth of his touch—they combine into something potent and hypnotic, until my heart pounds wildly in my chest and the air is thin in my lungs.
Simultaneously, it seems, we lean apart to look at each other. Whatever I’m feeling, he feels it too; his head is tilted down toward mine, and my chin lifts, angling toward him.
When his gaze drops to the feather necklace resting against my chest, his hands clench against my back. I’m not sure he realizes he’s doing it. But his grip tightens almost painfully as he drags his attention back up to me, to my face.
“Reese,” he says, so faint I can barely hear, and there’s a sudden battle in his eyes.
He looks at me for only a second before speaking again.
“I wanted—” His hoarse words fall away, but he finds them again.
“I wanted to say yes. Even though it was a bad idea and made no sense—my first instinct was to say yes.”
I blink in complete shock. If electricity could replace the blood in my veins, I’d think it was happening right now.
My mind races for context, foggy from our proximity but aware enough to put pieces together.
Did he want to get married, too?
But it’s then that his eyes drop to my lips, and all thoughts flee. A low breath shudders out of him as I find myself pressing closer, my hands sliding into his hair as he leans down—
“Reese, darling?”
Ice cubes slip down my spine at the voice coming from behind me, and I instinctively pull away from Dominic.
He does the same, and together our heads whip in that direction—only to find Alvina Berkeley, a bit wobbly in her high heels, and supported by none other than Dom’s father, who is looking back and forth between us with the utmost confusion.