Forty-One
Sienna
I pause in front of Jeremy’s door, the placard reading 305 in faux gold letters. My knuckles hover an extra second before I rap three times.
The door swings open.
Daniel.
Right. Daniel. Of course, he’s here. He’s the best man.
He’s wearing a crisp gray suit pinned with a shining boutonniere, the picture of polished composure.
As soon as he sees me, something flickers in his eyes. I’m unsure if it’s hesitation or unease. Maybe both.
“Hey,”
he finally says, shifting slightly in the doorway. “Look, about last night…”
I hold his gaze, already bracing myself for whatever half-hearted apology he’s about to offer.
He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck, a nervous tell I know too well. “I was out of line.”
That’s all.
No excuses. No drunken justifications. Just a quiet, reluctant acknowledgment of guilt.
It should feel like a victory.
I just feel tired.
“Already forgotten,”
I say, giving him the out he’s looking for.
His shoulders drop, but he still looks like he wants to say more. “You look beautiful, Sienna.”
The words land with less impact than I expect, more a practiced line than heartfelt.
“Thank you,”
I manage, forcing my voice steady.
So that’s it, then. The sum of six years of history. A compliment that feels about as personal as a weather forecast.
And it feels… okay. It feels good even.
His eyes flick downward, scanning my dress in a polite, if somewhat stilted, way. There’s no heat, no nostalgia, no ache. Just… nothing.
I breathe out slowly with relief so sharp I almost feel lightheaded.
He shifts his weight, nodding once before stepping aside. “Jeremy’s inside. He’s still messing with his tie. Let me give you two a minute.”
I nod, slipping past him. “Appreciate it.”
As I step inside, I feel the finality.
It doesn’t hurt. Not even a little.
When I take another step inside, the faint tang of aftershave hits my nose. It’s one I vaguely recall from old times, but it doesn’t stir up the heartbreak I used to expect.
The room is half chaos—garment bags draped across chairs, an ironing board with a half-wrinkleless shirt, a shoe box tipped precariously on the edge of the bed. My brother stands by the mirror, a tie in a messy knot. He looks like he’s strangling himself as he curses under his breath.
“In here, sis,”
Jeremy says, waving a hand. “I can’t get this stupid tie to do what I want it to do.”
I step forward, forcing a small grin. “You look like you’re trying to murder it, Jer. You were never much good at these things. Calm down.”
He groans, arms dropping. “How am I supposed to be calm? My wedding’s in a matter of hours, Grace is around here somewhere with her entire family, and Mom is triple-checking every detail like it’s the end of the world if a napkin is folded the wrong way. How are you?”
The question is loaded, delivered with a sideways glance.
I shrug, stepping close to him and swatting his hands away from the offending tie.
“I’m fine,”
I say, which is half-true, half-lie, but I don’t want to go deeper. Not here, not now. I focus on the knot, sliding and adjusting with nimble fingers.
He attempts a laugh, but it comes out shaky. “Right.”
Then his eyes flick to the door Daniel just walked out of. “That was not awkward at all?”
I focus on finishing the tie, smoothing the patterned silk down. “Actually, it was weirdly anticlimactic,” I say.
“He told me about last night.”
I lift my gaze to his. His eyes are rimmed with that protective older brother bullshit.
“He did? What was his story?”
“That he was a prick.”
I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “At least he was honest.”
“I never considered how difficult it’d be for you to face it all.”
My chest tightens. I finish fussing with the tie, stepping back to assess. “I’m fine, Jer. Really, I am. I chose New York. I wanted that job. No regrets.”
He watches me for a beat. “I can see that. You seem good. Nathan seems good for you.”
“Yeah,”
I murmur, a shy warmth creeping up my neck. “He’s…He’s great.”
The recollection of last night sends a swirl of butterflies through my stomach.
Jeremy must notice the expression on my face. “I’m happy for you, sis.”
A shadow crosses his face. “I should’ve checked in more after you left. I was so torn. I was so fucking angry at him for what he’d done. And you were gone.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I handled it like shit.”
A heavy silence follows. This is the conversation we’ve both avoided.
I fiddle with his lapel, aligning a small boutonniere to distract myself. “You were stuck in the middle,”
I say quietly. “He’s your best friend. You’ve been like brothers since you were little. I didn’t want you to pick sides—”
“But you’re my sister.”
“And I’ll always be your sister.”
I feel a sting behind my eyes. “He’s your best friend,”
I repeat gently. “It’s okay. I’ve moved on.”
There’s a man in a honeymoon suite upstairs who helped me to realize that.
Could I have faced all of this on my own? Of course. I’ve had to do plenty of things on my own.
Last week’s me didn’t know that, though. Last week’s me wasn’t sure how I’d feel stepping back into this world, wasn’t sure if I could handle the ghosts, the memories, the weight of it all.
So I brought a shield. Not because I wasn’t strong enough, but because I wasn’t sure if I wanted to be.
I’m glad Nathan’s here even if he’s leaving tomorrow.
My stomach knots at the thought.
One more day.
Jeremy swallows, looking far more nervous about this talk than about his actual wedding. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I hold out my pinky finger, and he takes it like when we were kids. “Promise,”
I tell him.
“Proud of you,”
he says, and it takes everything in me to fight the tears from falling.
“You too, Jer.”
“Anyway, enough with the serious talk. Let’s see if I look semi-decent.”
He steps to the mirror, adjusting the tie I’ve now tamed.
I grin, glad the tension is ebbing. “You look more than semi-decent. Grace is going to swoon.”
“Great, because I’m about to pass out from nerves.”
I pat his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Grace adores you, you big dork.”
We share a laugh that’s more genuine than anything I’ve felt with him in a long time. It feels good. It feels like maybe the wedge that formed when I left is starting to crack.
Progress.
I can’t fix everything in one day, but I can fix some things.
A soft knock at the door interrupts. Daniel’s voice drifts in, “Hey, Jer, we should head down soon. The coordinator wants a quick walk-through.”
Jeremy winces, stepping back. “Guess that’s my cue.”
He glances at me, then pulls me into a hug. “Love you,”
he whispers.
Oh, God, Sienna, do not cry.
I sniffle, pulling away. “Love you too.”
I follow him as he opens the door. Daniel stands there, phone in hand.
He looks between us, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. “Everything good?”
We both nod in unison, which might look suspicious, but neither of us elaborates. Daniel rubs the back of his neck like he used to when he was about to say something in an awkward moment. I swear he’s about to ask me for a chat, but he closes his mouth again and dips his chin.
Small miracles.
I watch for a minute as they walk down the hallway, laughing about something.
When I turn around to head back to the suite, I feel the explosion of butterflies again, and I realize something: this nervous excitement is not for the man behind me.
No, this feeling in my stomach, the pounding in my heart, it’s all for the man I’m walking towards.