Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Meadow
“Marriage isn’t just about finding someone to spend your life with,” the officiant begins, his calm voice carrying over the ocean breeze as the bride and groom stand hand in hand, eyes locked on one another. “It’s about finding someone you can’t imagine living without.”
The ceremony chairs are arranged in perfect rows along the sand, facing the ocean where a simple wooden arch stands draped in flowing white fabric and clusters of pale tropical flowers.
The tide rolls in behind it, slow and steady, as if the ocean itself has shown up to witness the vows.
The sky is overcast this evening, but not in a gloomy way. The clouds float across the horizon in beautiful brushstrokes, turning the fading sun into a muted glow that washes the entire beach in shades of silver and warm gold.
Thankfully, the clouds also keep the heat at bay, combined with the gentle breeze drifting through the ceremony.
The bride and groom couldn't have asked for a better evening to tie the knot. It’s absolutely breathtaking.
Even though I barely know these people, the amount of emotion filling my chest anchors me to my seat.
Weddings always do this to me—make me feel incredibly happy and sentimental, but also like I’m watching something that was never meant for me.
I glance around at the guests, a mixture of strangers and Owen’s friends—people I don’t recognize but who mean something to him.
Some smile while others shed tears of happiness as they watch the bride and groom recite their vows.
Being here—sitting amongst people who have memories and history in Owen’s life—feels strangely intimate. Like I’m an outsider who’s been invited into a world that existed long before I ever showed up.
The truth is… I am an outsider here.
None of these people know me. Aside from meeting Tyler on our first day, I don’t even know him and his bride.
The wooden chair creaks beneath me as I readjust, smoothing the peach fabric of my dress over my thighs. The material is light enough for the Caribbean heat, the long skirt fluttering as the wind rolls in from the water.
Thin straps rest over my shoulders, and my hair falls in loose curls down my back, still carrying the faint scent of the complimentary coconut conditioner from the shower.
My attention shifts to Owen as he leans toward me, his shoulder slightly brushing mine.
When I turn my head to face him, my stomach does a long, traitorous flip.
My God , he looks so handsome.
His navy suit jacket fits him perfectly, hugging his broad shoulders as he leans back, resting an arm behind my back. The crisp white shirt beneath it is open at the collar, revealing a sliver of his tan chest.
He looks polished and effortless. Impossible not to look at.
He looks like the Owen I’m so used to seeing around the office.
I’ve watched him give presentations to hundreds of people while everyone in the audience stared at him like he was something out of a fantasy.
Even now, during a wedding ceremony, people drag their attention away from the bride and groom to turn and glance at him.
His golden hair is pushed back from his face as the wind blows a few strands loose. The faint stubble along his jaw makes him look rugged and masculine, only adding to how lethally sexy he looks tonight.
My heart stutters in my chest when he glances over at me, and our eyes meet.
His mouth curves up in a slow, boyish smile as he lifts his arm from behind my back and slides his hand over my lap. My breath catches as his large hand splays against my thigh before threading his fingers through mine.
The gesture is simple, but it steals the air from my lungs.
Since we arrived in Costa Cay, Owen hasn't been shy about touching me around strangers or when we’re alone.
But something about this feels different.
We’re surrounded by people he knows. Friends he went to college with—men who were his teammates. People who have known him far longer than I have.
And yet, he doesn’t hesitate for even a second to lace his fingers through mine like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
With how he’s holding my hand and leaning into me with such ease, one would think that we’d been a couple for years.
Warmth spreads through my chest as his thumb skims slowly across the back of my hand. I squeeze his fingers in response as a small smile tugs at my lips.
As the bride and groom recite their vows, we don’t look away from one another. A gust of wind rips through my curls, blowing my hair across my cheek.
We still don’t look away.
Our eyes dart back and forth as we study each other. Everything else is background noise.
We’re caught in our own little bubble, just like we have been all week.
Owen tilts his head slightly, his eyes roaming across my face with the same raw and intimate look he gave me in the shower.
Like he still can’t quite believe any of this happened. Like he’s also terrified that it will all go away in less than twenty-four hours.
He continues staring before lowering his eyes to my lips.
“What?” I mouth silently, lifting a playful brow.
He grins as his throat bobs with a quiet chuckle. Smile lines form in the corners of his eyes as his emerald gaze holds mine.
God, he’s so beautiful it physically hurts.
I inhale a quick breath as he squeezes my hand.
Not once, not twice, but three times.
The pressure of his calloused fingers against my skin sends a wave of heat up my arm. My chest tightens in response, the meaning behind his gesture settling deep in my soul.
I smile and clench my fingers around his, squeezing his hand back three times. And when I look forward again toward the ceremony, I feel a spark that I didn’t know I needed.
A tiny sliver of hope.
It still lingers in the back of my mind that tomorrow is still waiting. We won’t be in this little bubble for much longer.
But for now, we’re here.
Together.
And somehow, that feels like enough.
After the ceremony ends and the bride and groom disappear down the beach for photos, the guests slowly begin drifting toward the cocktail hour set up on the resort’s event deck.
The space overlooks the ocean, elevated just enough for the view to stretch endlessly across the horizon. String lights are woven through the wooden beams overhead, glowing softly as dusk settles over the island.
The breeze carries the smell of salt, florals, and fruity cocktails while a steel-drum band plays a cover of Red, Red, Wine from the far corner.
People gather in groups across the deck—glasses clinking as everyone mingles before the reception begins, gushing about how beautiful the ceremony was.
Owen stands beside me near the railing with a drink in one hand, the other resting comfortably against the small of my back.
His touch is featherlight but feels so warm and heavy against my skin.
The ocean below us rolls in slow waves against the sand, the sky now shifting into deep shades of navy and lavender as the sun finishes its descent behind the horizon line.
I take out my phone and snap a picture of the view, even though I know it’ll just become one of the thousand images in my camera roll that I’ll never look at again. But I had to at least take a picture… It would feel like a crime not to have evidence of this spectacular view.
“Not a bad place for a wedding,” Owen murmurs beside me.
I glance over at him.
“That might be the understatement of the century,” I scoff.
He lets out a low chuckle, taking a sip from his glass before his hand drifts lower down my back… hovering just above my ass.
Chill bumps cover my skin as my core swirls with heat.
A week ago, we would never have been standing like this in public.
Touching each other like this.
So obvious to the world that we can’t keep our hands off each other.
And even though we just kissed for the first time a few days ago, everything about this feels so comfortably familiar.
I feel ridiculous for waiting literal years to tell Owen how I felt about him, but in my defense, he did have a girlfriend until recently.
Ugh, every time I think about his ex, it's like an arrow to the chest.
It’s not his fault. We’ve both dated other people before this week. But her… Just the thought of her makes me feel incredibly insecure. And I hate that I let it.
I’m saved from my thoughts as a man approaches us from across the deck—tall, handsome, and slightly sunburned with a loose tie around his neck and a glass of whiskey sloshing lazily in his hand.
“Owen!” he booms with a smile, almost shouting.
“Drew,” Owen replies with a friendly grin, stepping forward to pull the guy into a quick handshake that turns into a half-hug.
“Good to see you, man,” Owen adds.
Drew’s gaze shifts toward me with curiosity.
“Likewise,” he nods. “It’s been too long. And who’s this?”
Owen’s arm slides protectively around my waist as he pulls me closer to his side.
“This is Meadow.”
Something about the way he says my name—confident and proud—makes my stomach flutter.
“Nice to meet you, Meadow,” Drew smiles warmly, reaching out to shake my hand.
“Nice to meet you too,” I grin and nod, returning the gesture.
He points loosely between us.
“Okay, so you need to catch me up,” he looks toward Owen, “how do you two know each other?”
Owen glances down at me for half a second, his thumb skimming slowly against my ribcage.
“We met at work,” he answers without hesitation.
His arm tightens possessively around my waist, as if he wants it to be very clear that I’m here with him. A shiver rolls down my spine at his claiming tone.
Drew’s eyebrows lift as he scoffs.
“Oh hell,” he says, letting out a mocking laugh. “Office romances.”
I tilt my head in confusion as he raises his glass toward us.
Where is he going with this?
“Doomed to fail, you know what I mean?”
Um…
What the hell?
Did he really say that, or did I grossly mishear him?
Doomed to fail.
My stomach drops as I replay Drew’s words. All the confidence I felt two seconds ago melts away.
Who the hell does this guy think he is?