Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
BEAU
“You okay?” I ask Nate as I approach him. He’s staring out the window, seemingly oblivious to the obnoxiousness going on around him. His best friend from childhood, Brian St. Cyr, started passing around a flask half an hour ago. Nate’s the only one of us who isn’t buzzing right now.
“Yeah,” Nate says, tugging at the knot of his tie where it meets his shirt collar. His voice has a dreamy quality to it that I’m only used to hearing from chicks.
“What’s up, then? You seem . . .” I don’t know how to describe him right now. Nervous? Anxious? He’s about to get married, so I have no idea how he might be feeling.
He takes a deep breath. “I’m ready to watch her walk down the aisle already, that’s all.”
“You’re so fucking whipped,” I say as I knock shoulders with him. He glances over at me, a weary side-eye if I’ve ever seen one. I spent so much of my life looking up to Nate, both literally and figuratively, that it’s still disconcerting to look him in the eye.
“Do you remember when we ran into each other a few years ago? Where were we, Lake Louise?”
“Hell if I know.” The mountains all start to blend together when you travel as much as I do. “But yeah, I remember. You were a mess.”
“I don’t drink, and you got me drunk—asshole.”
Nate’s only got one kidney and as a preventive measure he abstains from alcohol. He’s also a vegan or some crazy shit, but given that the dude doesn’t have an ounce of fat on his body, I guess it works okay for him.
“If I’d known you were going to get all sappy about my sister, I’d never have given you alcohol.” Nate and Jackson were still broken up at that point. Dude was definitely not over her, though.
“That was the lowest I’d ever been. It had been like four years without her, and I thought for sure we’d be back together by then, but she’d just started dating Marco.”
“Is that what finally lit a fire under your ass?” I ask. Less than a year after that, Nate managed to snag a spot on the National Ski Team, seemingly out of the blue, and landed Jackson as his physical therapist. The rest, as they say, is history.
“That’s when I realized that it was now or never with her.
You can’t even imagine what it’s like to spend five years without the person you love more than anyone or anything in the world.
” He pauses, and I don’t respond because he’s right.
I can’t imagine. I wouldn’t even want to know what that feels like.
“Sometimes I still can’t believe that I managed to get her to marry me. ”
“Maybe you should be looking at this a little differently. Like maybe she’s lucky to have you,” I say. I was always on Nate’s side, even when he left her.
Nate coughs out a laugh. “I’m the lucky one, man.” His voice is reverent and sincere, and I’m not used to seeing him vulnerable like this. So I do what I always do—I give him shit.
“You sure? Because if you’re having second thoughts, my car is outside. I can get us to the closest airport in like thirty minutes.”
He lets out a real laugh this time. “Not going to happen. Dude, nothing’s stopping me from getting to the altar today.” He’s quiet for a moment, then says, “You think Sierra is making the same offer to Jax right now?”
“That’s not her style.” Sierra is far too sweet to make that suggestion. Then again, if memory serves, she’s also a fierce friend—so if it’s what Jackson needed, I don’t doubt she’d drive the getaway car.
“Still hanging on to that crush?” Nate asks, folding his arms over his chest without looking at me. I glance out the window to see what’s got him so transfixed, but he’s just looking at the woods that surround this place.
“That’s not my style.”
“Yeah, she’s not a fuck-and-forget kind of girl, is she?”
“I wouldn’t know.” I shrug.
“Don’t go there, okay?” he says, and I can’t read the tone of his voice.
“What are you saying, man?”
“I hear you’re going to be living together. Don’t fuck with her, Beau. She’s a good person and my future wife’s best friend.” He turns toward me to say, “Messing things up with Sierra would permanently damage your relationship with your family.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I mutter, crossing my arms over my chest, unintentionally mimicking his stance. Nate’s just confirmed what I already knew—in my family’s eyes, I rank below Sierra.
“I’m telling you this because I’ve always thought of you like a younger brother. But I know that you’ve always had a crush on her, and I also know your reputation with women.”
“Can’t help it if women crawl into my bed left and right.”
Nate grunts in response but doesn’t say anything.
“So you’re saying she deserves better than me?”
“I’m saying that she deserves better than what you’ll offer her, which is a short-lived fling before you rush off to a new adventure.”
Nothing he’s saying is wrong, but it still pisses me off.
“Don’t worry, man. I’m not looking for an older woman. That shit’s fun when you’re a teenager with a crush on your older sister’s best friend, but she’s in her thirties now.” Five years is still a big age difference, even at twenty-five. “Besides, she’s not my type.”
Everything I’m saying is true, which means I can’t explain why I can’t get her out of my head.
I had fully planned on giving her the brush-off when I saw her.
If necessary, I was going to be a dick to her.
Make her feel like she’d made me feel all those years ago.
I didn’t expect her to be so genuinely sweet, with a smile that did strange things to my chest. I didn’t mean to flirt with her, it was like my brain was giving my body directions it was making up on the fly, instead of the directions I’d planned out ahead of time.
“Good,” Nate says, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “What is taking so fucking long?” he asks, nodding over his shoulder toward the door that leads into the room where the ceremony will be held.
“I’ll find out,” I tell him. I turn toward the door, but the wedding planner saves me the trouble of having to find her by walking right through it.
“All right, guys,” she says, “time to roll.”
She gets us in order, with me behind Nate, followed by his friend Jeff from the ski team, and his friend St. Cyr from high school.
We walk out and stand at the front of the room, just like we practiced at last night’s rehearsal.
The one where Sierra wouldn’t even look at me.
I’d tried to talk to her at the rehearsal dinner afterward, but she was stuck like glue to one friend or another’s side all night, clearly trying to ensure she wouldn’t be alone with me.
Childish and immature don’t strike me as her style, but maybe I’m wrong about her.
I glance around the room, wondering how long we have to stand up here in front of everyone in these monkey suits.
Did we really need a vest under the tux jacket?
And really, pink ties? Jackson called them rose gold, but I’m not fooled.
In front of us, people chat, seated on white spindle chairs, surrounded by the potted fir trees with white twinkling lights that border the entire room.
The huge arched wooden doors at the end of the aisle finally sweep open, and everyone stands. Next to me Nate takes a deep breath but I think he forgets to exhale, so I elbow him and whisper, “Relax.”
Jackson’s friends come slowly down the aisle—first the redhead whose name I’ve never bothered learning, then Petra who is gorgeous but unobtainable, and then beyond her I spot the top of Sierra’s head.
She moves down the aisle, one careful step at a time, and I can finally see all of her once she passes most of the guests.
She’s a fucking angel, which is not a cliché I’ve ever used.
It’s a good thing angelic girls are not my type.
Her blond hair falls well past her shoulders in loose curls, and pieces from the front of her hair are braided into some sort of intricate pattern that looks like a loose crown around her head.
Her skin glows and her lips are a shade of pink that’s so fucking kissable I forget that I don’t even like her.
One shoulder is entirely bare as the rose gold fabric sweeps over her other shoulder, and the dress hugs her waist and the curve of her hips before flaring out at the bottom.
Nate elbows me and whispers, “Relax.” In my head, I call him an asshole, but I don’t dare say it out loud because one of the videographers is standing right on the other side of him.
As Sierra gets to the end of the aisle, she glances over, her eyes skimming past Nate and landing on me. She holds my gaze for about two-hundredths of a second before she glances down at the huge bouquet she carries and steps up to stand next to Petra.
I’d been so focused on Sierra I hadn’t even noticed those wooden doors shut, but suddenly they are flung open again and my dad and sister step through them.
I can practically feel the emotions rolling off Nate, buzzing like an electrical current next to me.
Even after all these years, his love for her is still growing.
I wonder what that must be like, and how long it’ll be until it consumes him—until he’s not him anymore, but just an extension of her.
At least, that’s what love has always seemed like to me: a surefire way to lose your independence, to get your balls shackled up so tight they eventually fall off.
My dad gives Jackson away, and she takes Nate’s hand and steps up next to him.
Words are said and vows are exchanged, but I hardly notice it because—except for when Nate turns to me to get Jackson’s wedding ring—I can’t take my eyes off Sierra.
And it’s like she can feel me watching her, because she keeps glancing at me, then glancing over at Nate and Jackson like she’s reminding me that I should be paying attention to them.