Chapter 56
Chapter Fifty-Six
NASH
I take the program from the young man in a suit as I walk in through huge glass doors. “Thank you.”
The inside of the venue is white with brick flooring. The ceiling is dotted with chandeliers casting a subtle glow.
I drove the little green Kia here since Wyatt took his truck, and his parents came before me. So it will just be me in the audience by myself.
Great.
Only two hours until I can reunite with Wyatt and not feel like such an outsider.
My heels click on the brick flooring as I walk toward where the ceremony will happen. The sounds of a softly playing string quartet meet my ears as I enter the large space, music carrying in a graceful way through the wandering guests looking for their friends or family.
The flowers are bursting from vases at the beginning of the seating where the aisle leads to the altar, and I stop to smell them as I walk past.
“Nash…” I turn to see who could be calling me. I know almost no one here.
“Oh, Layla,” I say and walk toward her. I guess sitting with my fake boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend for the ceremony is better than sitting alone.
Like Wyatt said, they were kids when they were together, and she seems happy with Grant now.
There’s no reason for me to believe she has any misguided notions about Wyatt or me.
She pats the empty seat next to her. “Come sit by me.”
I collapse into the chair she offered. “Thank you. I don’t know anyone else here.”
“Oh, I know everyone,” she laughs.
I smile back. It was wrong of me to instantaneously dislike her for being Wyatt’s ex. I need to get control of my jealousy. After all, it will be misplaced when we go back to Houston and back to being just friends.
Why does that thought make me want to barf?
My quick issue with his ex, my jealousy over the idea of any other woman looking his way… I’m in this deep.
I’m about to find out just how deep because the music has changed, and the officiant is heading down the aisle.
I watch as Henry comes next, dressed to the nines in a navy-blue suit with matching tie, his parents on each arm.
The music changes again and we turn back in unison to watch Wyatt come down the aisle alone as the best man.
When he takes his first step around the corner, my breath is stolen from my lungs at how handsome he looks.
His big frame and his broad shoulders draped in the rich navy color perfectly offsets his blonde hair and blue eyes.
I never want to see him in anything else again.
I thought the football pads and helmet were hot, but this is another level.
I’ll never be able to unsee this. Every night when I dream it’s going to be seeing him dressed like this.
I watch with rapt attention as he strolls down the aisle to the slow melody of the music.
He smiles at people he knows as he passes, looking like a natural.
Like he’s the center of attention every day—and maybe in Wisconsin he is.
When he’s even with our row, the smile and wink he throws my way has me melting in my chair. How long is this walk? It feels like it’s been minutes since I took a breath, but it’s probably only been seconds. I would happily suffocate if it meant spending every moment in his presence.
Finally, he walks up the three small steps to the altar, clapping Henry on the back and politely greeting the officiant. He takes his place next to his brother and clasps his hands in front of him.
Everyone around me turns back to see the rest of the bridal party walk down the aisle in pairs, but I cannot force my eyes away from Wyatt.
I haven’t had enough of him. It’s like he can feel the heat of my gaze on him because now he’s looking back at me.
Somehow through this sea of people his ocean blue eyes find me.
He looks down at my dress, a red number he’s never seen before, giving my whole body a slow and sensual perusal that makes my stomach swoop.
When his eyes meet mine again, he mouths just one word, wow.
I smile so hard it hurts my cheeks, and I cover my face with my program so I don’t disturb the other guests.
There’s something in his eyes I don’t recognize.
Like he’s looking at me through a different lens.
Maybe it’s the soft summer glow glancing through the trees and filtering in from the windows casting everything in heavenly light.
Maybe it’s my dress. I don’t normally wear red because I find it too flashy, and that it clashes with my height for attention, but for this I figured fuck it. Go big or go home.
Hazel’s sister looks stunning in the sage-colored, off-the-shoulder gown she chose.
The earthiness of the green brings out the darker streaks in her brown hair.
We follow her with our gaze as she moves down the aisle and to the altar before turning back to see the ring bearer and flower girl coming down together.
The crowd chuckles as we watch the young girl attempt to throw the petals, but managing to only put down about three the entire way.
The music stops for an abrupt moment as it switches to the correct song for the bride.
“All rise,” the officiant asks, and we do.
The sound of all of your friends and family standing to greet the bride, the anticipation of the moment right before you see the star of the show for the first time, is my favorite part of weddings.
I watch as two enormous wooden doors are opened to reveal Hazel and her dad.
I never imagined myself in a dress like that, but the organza with rouching across the chest looks so stunning on her, it might convince me.
The luxe fabric flares out just above her knees, and a five-foot train trails behind her as she walks.
It’s breathtaking, elegant, and looks like it would be found at a Hollywood event rather than in Wisco.
I look my fill of the bride quickly so I can turn and watch the groom as he sees her for the first time as I normally do at weddings.
The bride looks beautiful, but the emotion on the groom’s face is always the best view.
Except this time my eyes barely graze over Henry, who is, in fact, crying because they’re drawn into the overpowering orbit of Wyatt.
He’s here to witness the marriage of his older brother, but his eyes are on me again.
I hold his gaze. I feel the heat build behind my eyes as tears pool in their corners.
I don’t want to be the one to keep Wyatt from where he wants to be, but after all this time, I don’t think I can do life without him.
There has to be a way for us to both get what we want.
If I were a better woman, I might feel guilty about the amount of time throughout the ceremony Wyatt spends watching me instead of the literal vows being professed in front of him.
But I’m not. And I don’t.
“I, Henry, take you, Hazel, to be my lawfully wedded wife…” I’m only half hearing the vows as the officiant guides them through the ceremony.
Before I know it, the officiant is announcing, “And with the power vested in me by the great state of Wisconsin, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may now kiss the bride.” He steps aside so the photographer can get the perfect photo of their first kiss, and I appreciate the man’s attention to detail.
From a few steps to the side, he calls out, “It’s my honor to introduce to you, for the very first time, the new Mr. and Mrs. Vandergriff.
” The crowd roars with excitement, and I clap my hands and cheer along.
A punchy rendition of a classic rock song on the string instruments plays as they traipse down the aisle.
Henry stops them about two-thirds of the way to sweep his new wife into a low kiss, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
“Well, that was beautiful,” I say to Layla, who is standing beside me as we wait our turn to make our way out of the ceremony room and into the hall where cocktail hour will be hosted.
She dabs her eyes with a tissue and says, “So beautiful.”
I step out of our row and motion for her to slide past me. “Let’s go get a drink.”
The bridal party is swept away for photos by a stressed-looking woman in all black while Layla and I are herded out onto the porch for cocktail hour. A tray with bruschetta passes by me and the smell makes me realize how hungry I am.
“Get in line for a drink?” I ask Layla. I’m going to need one if I’m going to get through this night without pulling Wyatt into a coat closet.
“Yes, please.”
She greets everyone as we pass by, introducing me to those I have yet to meet.
The rehearsal dinner was pretty intimate, so there are quite a few friendly new faces.
I meet the baker and his daughter, who briefly dated Henry in high school.
I meet the owner of the local bar who invites us to have a drink after the wedding tonight, and I politely decline because I plan on drinking plenty of free booze here.
“Wow,” I breathe after the last person ambles away to say hello to someone else.
“It’s a lot, isn’t it?” Layla plays with the toothpick of the bacon-wrapped water chestnut she just finished.
“It is, but it seems like Wyatt loves it.”
Layla’s smile is small and reminiscent. “There’re great things about living in a small town.
When my dad had his hip replaced, we didn’t cook a single meal for weeks.
But when I got a minor in possession ticket at a bar in the next town over, my parents knew about it before I even crossed the county line. ”
“You got an MIP?” But she’s so smart and put together.
“Everyone has their days. There’s not much to do around here.”
It’s my turn to inspect the toothpick in my hand. “What was Wyatt like in high school? I mean, I met him shortly after graduation, but…”
“He was a lot like he is now. Big hearted, big bodied,” she laughs, then continues more seriously. “I remember the first time he came home after he met you.”
My eyebrows meet my hairline in surprise. “You do?”
She nods. “He talked about you the whole weekend. By that time, three years later, he was calling to order a cedar chest.”
My mouth turns down at the corners, confused. Wyatt didn’t say anything about where the chest came from. And why would Layla know about it? How could someone’s furniture purchases be the hot gossip of a small town? “I don’t understand.”
“He didn’t explain it to you?”
I shake my head. “He just showed it to me this weekend.”
She laughs and it sounds like bells tinkling. Her hand lands on my shoulder as she says, “In Poblocki, gifting a girl a cedar chest is the equivalent of a promise ring. It’s making your intentions known.”
My entire body goes still, but my mind spins. He had that chest made years ago, but I just saw it for the first time this weekend. What does that mean?
I realize how long it’s been silent between us, and I stumble over my thoughts trying to find the right words, but she saves me from having to speak. “You didn’t know.” It’s not a question.
I sigh. The weight of this fake relationship with undercurrents of my real feelings is dragging me down. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”
“Next,” says the bartender, shocking us both out of our conversation. I’m grateful to Layla for stepping up to the bar and ordering first, giving me a second to breathe and collect my thoughts.
When Layla steps away with her drink, I step up to the bar.
“I’ll have the house red, please.” The bartender starts to pour me a glass of wine in the small plastic cups they always have at weddings.
I check the time on my phone and am bewildered to see that it’s only been twenty minutes.
Another forty minutes of cocktail hour, then wedding party entrances, then some weddings I’ve been to go right into the first dance before dinner is served.
Which means I’m not going to be able to get any clarification from Wyatt for a while.
Realization hits me—this is Henry’s wedding.
Wyatt is the best man. It is absolutely not the time or the place to have this conversation.
Plus, if Wyatt wanted me to know about the meaning behind the cedar chest, he would have told me himself.
But he didn’t because as of today, I have a feeling he is planning on leaving me after the breaking news that came out about Clark—well, leave Houston, to come back to Wisconsin.
He made that perfectly clear. He has through this entire fake relationship.
It would do me good to remember that that’s all this is.
What it has been for him this entire time.
Fake.