25. What if it Didn’t?
WHAT IF IT DIDN’T?
LIAM
The vineyard was perfect for Ethan and Kiara’s wedding in Napa Valley.
Too perfect, actually. It made you wonder if Kiara had sold her soul to get the weather that good.
Golden hour sunlight filtered through grapevines, casting everything in warm amber.
String lights hung everywhere, wrapped around trees and draped over the ceremony arch.
Roses, thousands of them, probably, perfumed the air.
I stood at the altar as best man, watching Ethan fidget with his cufflinks while we waited for Kiara.
“Are you good?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t get cold feet. He most probably wouldn’t, but if he did, I would do everything humanly capable to keep him at the altar. Or else Kiara would kill me with her slippers.
“Terrified.”
“She’s going to show up.”
“I know. That’s the terrifying part,” he smiled, his different-colored eyes gleaming in the sun. “I get to keep my Bella. Forever.”
The soft music started, and everyone stood up.
Then Kiara appeared.
She was beautiful, but what struck me was Ethan’s face. The way he looked at her, as if she hung the moon and arranged the stars just for him. He even had tears gleaming in his eyes.
I was genuinely and purely happy for them.
My eyes drifted to Deepika.
She stood across from me in a champagne-colored bridesmaid dress that hugged her curves and made her skin glow. Her hair was swept up, a few curls framing her face, and she was crying happy tears, holding Kiara’s bouquet as if it were made of glass.
She caught me staring and mouthed, ‘What?’
I tapped my lips.
She frowned. ‘What?’
I blew her a kiss.
Her face flushed pink, even from across the altar, and she mouthed back, ‘Stupid, Fish Boy.’
I grinned.
Fuck, I love her.
The realization made my heart stutter, my palms getting clammy. My grin vanished, and I looked anywhere but at her.
The reception was in full swing by the time I gave my speech.
I stood at the microphone, champagne flute in hand and trying to figure out how to be funny and sincere without making everyone uncomfortable.
“So,” I started, the microphone letting out a tiny, sharp squeal of feedback that made me wince.
The air in the ballroom was thick with the scent of a thousand white peonies and the expensive, bubbly tang of flowing champagne.
“Ethan asked me to keep this short because, and I quote, ‘Liam, you talk too much when you’re nervous, and we have a cake to cut before the sun rises.’”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, a warm, buzzing sound that did nothing to settle the frantic pounding of my heart against my ribs.
“He’s right. I do. Usually, it takes a whistle and a starting block to get me to shut up, so I’ll make this quick.
” I looked at Ethan and Kiara, sitting at the head table.
Ethan’s hand was clamped over Kiara’s like a lifeline, a sight that was strangely sweet for a guy who once tried to convince me that eating raw eggs was a valid personality trait.
“I’ve known Ethan since we were kids. We learned to swim together, got in trouble together, and I’ve spent the better part of two decades being his unofficial bodyguard, stylist, and therapist. He’s the closest thing I have to a brother, even if his taste in music is objectively horrifying.”
Ethan raised his glass, a broad, goofy grin splitting his face.
“And Kiara…” I turned to her, the sparkling lace of her dress catching the blinding overhead spotlights.
“You’re the miracle who makes him better.
The one who calls him out when he’s being an absolute idiot.
The woman who loves him even when he leaves a trail of damp, chlorine-scented towels on the floor and forgets to text back for days because he’s busy overthinking his backstroke. ”
“That’s so specific!” Kiara laughed, the sound bright and melodic over the clinking of silverware.
“Because it’s true.” I paused, the cold condensation of my champagne flute slick against my palm.
My eyes drifted, almost against my will, until they found Deepika in the crowd.
She was a vision in the dress that hugged every one of her dangerous curves, her dark hair a silken curtain over her shoulders.
“I used to think love was about finding the perfect person. Someone who checked all the boxes on a pristine little list. Someone who never annoyed you, never picked a fight, and fit seamlessly into your life like a well-tailored suit.”
Deepika was watching me, her expression unreadable, her dark eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight from the tables.
God, she’s breathtaking.
“But watching Ethan and Kiara, and experiencing a bit of... chaos lately, I’ve learned it’s about finding the person who makes you want to be better even when you're at your worst. Even when they drive you absolutely and unbearably insane.” I swallowed hard, the dry, crisp taste of the wine lingering on my tongue.
“Even when they know all your worst qualities—your arrogance, your stubbornness, your inability to admit when you're wrong—and they choose you anyway.”
Her dark eyes were glistening now, and I took a deep breath, the heat of the room suddenly feeling a lot more personal. The room had gone quiet.
“To Ethan and Kiara.” I raised my glass high, the liquid shimmering. “And to second chances. To the kind of love that starts as hate and turns into something real.”
Applause erupted around me, and glasses clinked.
I drank, not tasting the champagne, and watching Deepika wipe her eyes, smiling with her cousins.
After the first dance of Ethan and Kiara swaying to some Sinatra song that had half the room crying, the wedding party joined in.
I extended my hand to Deepika, and she took it without hesitation.
We had practiced it for hours in my living room, both in sweatpants, stepping on each other’s toes until we figured out the rhythm. She had complained the entire time, threatening to give up, but we both kept practicing it until we got it right.
Now, dancing under string lights with the smell of roses everywhere, it felt effortless.
“Our contract ends after the San Diego wedding,” I said quietly. But I don’t want it to end.
She looked up at me and whispered, “It does.”
“What if it didn’t?”
She took a sharp breath. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying this doesn’t feel fake anymore.”
My jaw clenched when I saw the look on her face. Is it pity? Sadness?
“Forget I said anything.”
I stepped back, breaking our dance, and walked away before she could respond.
I grabbed a champagne flute from a passing server and downed it in one swallow.
One of Ethan’s moms, Helen, found me first, pulling me into a hug that smelled like expensive perfume and warmth.
“Beautiful speech, sweetheart.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Kane.”
“None of that. You know it’s Helen.” She patted my cheek. “Now where’s that lovely girl of yours?”
As if summoned, Deepika appeared, flowing in her bridesmaid dress, and Helen immediately pulled her into conversation.
My parents joined us as well. Mom in a navy dress that she had bought specifically for this, and Dad in a suit he had complained about wearing the entire drive up.
“Liam,” Mom said, hugging me. “You didn’t tell us Deepika was this funny.”
“She’s hilarious,” Dad agreed with a grin. “Just told us about the time you tried to make chole bhature.”
I groaned. “You told them?”
Deepika grinned. “They asked about your cooking skills. I had to be honest.”
I mock-glared at her and said, “Traitor.”
“Your mother deserves the truth.”
Mom laughed, linking arms with Deepika. “I like her, so you better keep her.”
Not this again.
“Mom—”
“I’m serious, son. She’s good for you.”
Deepika’s smile faltered slightly, but she recovered fast, launching into another story about me burning toast.
I let them talk, watching Deepika charm my parents effortlessly, and tried not to think about how much I wanted this to be real.
Then the speeches started.
Diya stood first, champagne in hand, Yash beside her.
“We want to talk about love,” Diya started, smiling at the crowd. “Real love, like the one that surprises you.”
My hands clenched into fists under the table.
Yash took over. “Sometimes love finds you when you least expect it. With someone you never imagined.”
I was going to punch him.
But it was Ethan and Kiara’s day, their wedding, and I would not ruin it by causing a scene.
But God, I wanted to.
Deepika’s hand found mine under the table, squeezing tight.
Then she leaned close, her breath warm against my ear.
“I know it’s super rude, but... Liam.”
I shifted in my seat, my heart thundering, because I could hear the need and the want in her voice.
She didn’t even have to finish her sentence.
“Excuse us,” I said to my parents, already standing and pulling Deepika with me.
We slipped away from the reception, weaving through tables and guests until we found a quiet spot in the vineyard, hidden by grapevines with stars overhead, the party a distant hum of music and laughter.
“Why are we here—mmfh!”
I kissed her. Hard.
I poured everything I couldn’t say into the press of my mouth against hers.
“Because I needed to,” I breathed against her lips.
I kissed her again, deeper and slower this time.
“I need you,” I whispered.