Chapter 17
Pulling the Pin
Tyler
We step back through the carved oak doors like we haven’t just been caught snogging behind a rose bush while Peacock vaped theatrically and scored us like a pair of over-eager understudies.
Her hand brushes mine once, quick, accidental, before she lets go. The space between us hums, live-wire tight, daring me to close it.
Instead, we stroll back into the room like nothing just happened, like we didn’t just commit botanical indecency behind the hydrangeas.
The room’s end of the night messy now. Fewer theatrics, more half-eaten desserts and slumped groomsmen. Someone’s snoring gently in the corner.
I grab a couple of glasses of wine because standing empty-handed feels wrong. The barrels have been swapped for bottles, classier, but less fun. It’s either hold glasses or haul Hayley up a staircase, and one of those is slightly more socially acceptable.
“Milady,” I say, offering her the glass with a little bow.
Her mouth twitches like she’s not sure whether to laugh or throw it at me. She takes it but doesn’t drink, just stares at the glass, knuckles pale, like she’s trying to work out if it’s wine or a wedding proposal.
“I’m gonna…” She waves the glass vaguely toward the crowd. “Check in with Lily. Before she demotes me to table scraps for crimes against matrimony.”
“Of course.” I nod, casual.
She takes two steps, heels clicking, and somehow manages to zigzag through the crowd like a drunk secret agent on a covert bridal mission. I can’t help but smile.
“Don’t disappear on me,” I hear myself say before she is too far away.
She doesn’t look back.
I lean against the nearest table and watch her laughing too loud when Lily hugs her. It’s breathless, the same way she sounded against my mouth minutes ago.
God, that kiss.
Her lips were softer than I expected, and I’d had expectations, not that I’d ever admit that out loud.
I can still feel the scrape of her nails against my shirt, see the look in her eyes right before I moved closer, like she was about to jump and needed to know I’d catch her.
Dragging her upstairs right now would be easy. Reckless, sure, but worth it.
She’s not there yet. Not quite where I am. Push now and she’ll run.
And I hate that I know that.
Still, every muscle in my body is one bad decision away from doing it anyway.
“You’re looking awfully smug for someone who hates weddings,” says a familiar voice near my shoulder, cutting straight through the fantasy and my rapidly escalating hormones.
Ben.
I straighten. “Just enjoying the view.”
“Mm-hm.” He crosses his arms, giving me that lazy, knowing smirk that says he’s already five steps ahead. “So, I take it you approve of Lily’s partner choice for you this weekend?”
I meet his gaze but don’t answer.
His smirk turns into something closer to a grin. “You seem… invested.”
I let the silence stretch until it’s uncomfortable.
Then, almost tentative, like he’s testing me: “Are you gonna tell her?”
My chest tightens.
I look at him, not angry, not amused, just letting him see every unspoken thing running riot in my head.
Ben’s grin fades into something gentler. He claps me on the shoulder, lingering for a beat, and there’s sympathy in his eyes I don’t want but can’t shake off.
“Best of luck, mate,” he says quietly, before strolling away like he didn’t just lob a grenade and leave me holding the pin.
I watch him go, then find Hayley across the room, laughing with Lily, throwing her head back, like she hasn’t just wrecked my entire night with one kiss.
If I blink, she might disappear.
So, I don’t blink.