Chapter 28
Andie’s eyes are fixed on the bride’s dress as she dances for the first time with the man who is now her husband. I’m glad I got to see one of her dresses in action. The photos on her website are beautiful, and the fabric draped on dress forms in her loft are intriguing, but if I wasn’t here to witness this, I’d have missed how different the dresses are when they move. My work is static; buildings don’t sway in a slight breeze or wrap around someone’s body like they’re a part of it. Andie’s consideration for movement is nothing short of genius.
And if I wasn’t here tonight, I’d have missed the awed whispers of wedding guests as the bride walked by. Even now, as I sit at a table near the back of a tent with Andie, some guests at the bar are talking about how it sparkles in the light.
Andie’s fingers tap on her thigh to the rhythm of “The Way You Look Tonight,” and she tips a sip of water into her mouth. As the bride and groom spin on the dance floor, utterly enchanted with each other, I can’t help but think about how Andie and I did this mere weeks ago. We’ve gotten so close to something more than a marriage for show a few times now.
Steve and Cassidy lurk in the wings. I catch Steve’s eye, and he gives me a thumbs-up.
Before Cassidy mic’d us upon arrival, I asked him, “You said she hated you at first; what turned the tide?”
Steve smiled, watching as Cassidy fussed over where to hide the mic in Andie’s bodice. “I was there every day, man. The good ones and the bad. Especially the bad ones. When I finally told her how I felt, she couldn’t deny it anymore.”
“It?” I raised a brow.
He shrugged. “That we had something worth fighting for.”
Now, beneath the fairy lights of someone else’s declaration of everlasting love, the mic pack weighs heavy on my waistband under my coat. I’m done waiting.
I’m done hoping we’ll find the right moment, that suddenly all the pieces will fall into place. Much like my work, you can’t argue with the laws of physics. There’s no point. Instead, you find a way to work with them. Andie and I already have our foundation built; it’s time for us to work with it instead of against it.
We’re at a beautiful wedding in Atlanta’s Botanical Gardens, string lights through branches absolutely everywhere the eye can see, and a fountain is lit up just outside the tent. It’s time to make our moment happen instead of holding back.
My fingers brush the small of Andie’s back through the silk of her dress—one she most definitely made herself. She looks over her shoulder, her eyelashes gilded in gold from the string lights around the centerpiece.
Fuck it—I lean forward and rest my chin on her opposite shoulder. She stiffens for a split second before leaning in, her chest rising and falling against her bodice. “What are you doing?” she murmurs, her eyes back on the bride and groom.
“Enjoying the party.” My hand slips around her waist. “Everyone is fascinated by the dress.”
She offers me some neutral information about it, something she’d probably tell any bride who asked. “It took the better part of a year to get that neckline right.”
A low hum comes from my chest. “It’s beautiful.”
“Just like your thighs.” Her lips curl into a smile. I smile when she tilts her head so her temple presses to mine. A small gesture of thanks, of trust, of giving in.
The groom twirls the bride, her gown glittering in the light. I curl my fingers against the fabric of Andie’s dress. “Can you believe we did that six weeks ago?”
“No,” she whispers. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”
A low chuckle vibrates through me. “It all feels real to me.”
Andie tears her eyes from the newly married couple on the dance floor, pinning me with a look so raw my heart aches. Her gaze falls to my mouth.
Aside from our wedding day, and despite our clash in the bedroom a couple of weeks ago, we still haven’t kissed. Not since we were too young to know how much it would mean.
“Would it really be so bad to care about each other?” My eyes rove over her face, tracing her freckles in the low, romantic lighting.
Her lips part to answer, but the music ends, and the crowd around us applauds. Moment over.
Andie primly clears her throat and joins in the applause.
So do I, but my arms wrap around her waist to clap my hands in front of her belly. We’re not done talking about this, and I’m not letting go until we are.
As the applause fades, I whisper against the shell of her ear, “Come dance with me.”
Her answer is low and breathy. “I’m working.”
I can’t help the way my lips curl into a smile. So fucking stubborn. “It’s a wedding. There’s supposed to be dancing.” Besides, I know Heidi is running around here somewhere—the last time I saw her she was stuffing a canapé into her mouth before swiping furiously at her tablet. If something goes wrong with the dress, she’ll alert Andie.
I’m about to remind Andie what the executive producer said about needing us to cooperate when she sighs. “Fine.”
It’s a small victory, but I’ll take what I can get. I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it and doesn’t even complain when I lead her away from the dance floor, toward the tent’s exit. We stop next to the sparkling fountain, and I ignore the shuffle nearby as Cassidy and Steve line us up in frame.
Instead, I place one hand on Andie’s waist and offer her the other. She steps into my dance frame just as the next song cues up inside the tent. “I promise I won’t trip over my own feet this time.”
“That makes one of us,” she quips, her fingers tightening on my shoulder.
A few bars into the song, I take the plunge. “Andie, I’m done pretending.”
Her eyes go wide and dart over my shoulder toward Cassidy and Steve. Her voice is stretched thin as she echoes, “Done pretending.”
“Yes.” I pull her in closer, so our hips are pressed together and the small of her back arches around my hand. “I’m done pretending I don’t have feelings for you when every time you look at me, I’m yours.”
“Oh.” It’s a whisper, lost in the water cascading off the fountain, but her lips form a perfect O just before her eyes soften.
“I’ve been holding back.” My pulse bounds, putting it all on the line. “I don’t want to scare you or push you, but I don’t want you to wonder where I am in this. I know you’ve been hurt before, and that it’s hard to trust me. But I have feelings for you. Real ones. I’m all in. It’s something my wife should know, don’t you think?”
“Kit,” she says my name on a sigh. “We’ve only been doing this for a few weeks.”
“It feels longer than that, doesn’t it?” I counter, my fingers digging into the flesh on her hips. I force myself to relax. “Can you really tell me you don’t feel this—what’s between us—too?”
My eyes fall to her throat as she swallows. Her hand curls more tightly around mine. When I meet her gaze again, she admits, “I’m scared.”
“Of what?” My voice is softer. Gentle. I don’t know if Steve’s equipment can pick it up, and I don’t fucking care. “Me?”
She shakes her head and lets out a frustrated noise. Her hand releases mine, and before my heart can drop, she moves it to my neck, stepping closer. “Not you, no.”
I take in a slow breath, knowing I have to tread carefully if I want to keep her close. “You jumped off a platform in the rainforest just to prove to me you wouldn’t let your fear of heights stop you.”
“Well, I really wanted that pencil.” Her lips curve into a shy grin, and her fingers brush the hair at my nape.
I smile in return, warmth flourishing in my chest—we have inside jokes again. That has to count for something. “What are you afraid of, Andie?”
She’s quiet, chewing on her lip, for what feels like an eternity. When I think she’s locked me out, she finally says, “I’m afraid of getting lost. In you, in this. Losing sight of what matters to me.”
It’s the most honest she’s been with me on camera, and the layers beneath what she’s said go so deep, the only ones who have a hope of understanding are the two of us.
“It’s so easy to get wrapped up in this.” Her eyes reflect the fountain’s lights back at me. “In the idea of true love and a happily ever after. In you.”
“In me?”
She dips her chin into a nod. “You’re easy to get lost in, Mr. Watson.”
My lips pull into a frown. I don’t particularly like the idea of Andie getting lost in anyone but herself. “Is that your way of letting me down easy?”
She lets out a puff of laughter, her fingers flitting over my pocket square—one that she made, of course. “The opposite, actually. It’s my way of saying I think I’m already in over my head.”
My heart launches at my rib cage, and I take in a slow breath to stay calm. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“Depends on whether or not you’ll catch me as I’m falling.” She meets my eyes in the dark, and I see everything in her gaze. Our past, our present, our future, if we’re brave enough to reach for it.
“I’ll catch you. I’ll get you a helmet, if it’ll help you take the leap.” My lips tug into a half grin. “We’re not in a dance studio, so we should be able to stick the landing.”
She laughs, her body humming beneath my hands. This is the lightest I’ve felt in ages. I pull her in close, so our bodies are flush with each other. She stands on her tiptoes and rests her chin on my shoulder, her arms linked tightly around my neck. I feel her breath all the way through me, and I know the feeling. I’ve wanted to hold her like this, to be held like this, for years now.
“I’m glad it was you, that day at the altar.” I play with a strand of hair that’s made its way loose from the tidy knot at the back of her head.
She slides her hands to my chest, curling her fingers around my lapels, and arches her back so she can look me in the eyes. I hook my fingers into her bodice where it meets her bare shoulder blades, holding on for dear life. She licks her lips, a little line appearing between her brows. “I need you to promise me something.”
“Anything.” My answer is quick off my tongue; I’ve been waiting a lifetime to pledge allegiance to her.
“I’m already in over my head,” she reiterates, running her thumbs over my lapels. “Promise you won’t let me get lost.”
I swallow. I’m not sure if that was an honest request to be her compass in the dark, or if it was a subtle reminder that she couldn’t afford to lose herself because she still needs to divorce me in a couple of weeks. And I can’t ask for clarification with the camera hovering nearby. For now, I settle for my honest answer. “I’ll keep you safe.”
It must be enough, because she pulls on my lapels until I bring my face close to hers. Our lips a hair’s breadth apart, I whisper another truth. “You look beautiful.”
Her response lights me up—her lips press to mine with a hardness that betrays her desperation. I slide a hand to her neck, using my thumb to tilt her jaw, and open my mouth to soften the kiss. It’s an offering that she takes readily, opening to me in return.
She asked me to keep her from getting lost, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to do that when I’m hopelessly upside down. All I know is the clash of our teeth and the slide of our tongues and the breathy whimper she lets free when I gently bite her upper lip. She slips her fingers beneath my coat, her fingernails biting into my chest through my shirt.
I grip the back edge of her bodice in a fist, my knuckles digging into the flesh over her spine. We’re teetering on the edge of something so good it hurts, and I can’t bring myself to stop. Our mouths crash together again, not caring that we’re in public, or that she’s working, or that there’s a camera nearby, ready and willing to blast every piece of this moment on TV.
We’ve finally broken through whatever stupid wall was in our way, and we’re getting somewhere.
Thank God.