Chapter 16 Elliot
My fingers curl firmly around the crystal glass, barely filled with enough bourbon.
I swirl the rich amber liquid, then bring the glass to my lips, breathing in the warm, smoky scent before knocking it back in a single swallow. A low rasp slips out of me, the burn offering a brief, welcome reprieve from the jealousy simmering under my skin.
My gaze is tormented by the couple on the dance floor. How brazen of an ex to make such a callous move, especially after witnessing our kiss only moments before.
And that kiss is driving me to the depths of despair.
It was supposed to be a facade, a show, for all intents and purposes.
I agreed to be Madelina’s date out of pity, and because I was bored.
I thought this pretense we are holding up would add a bit of excitement to my life.
But the intensity of my desire surged within me, mixed with this competitive drive to prove how foolish Myles was to tease Madelina with a new woman in his bed.
And fuck. Madelina is like nothing I’ve ever tasted before.
My reality fractured, sending our agreement spiraling into oblivion, all because her mouth was the taste of utter perfection.
And deliciously forbidden.
I just kissed my sister’s best friend.
And it was like heaven and hell all boxed up with a neat little bow.
From the corner of my eye, I noticed him, standing there with wounded pride, his ego visibly bruised as he watched the woman who had left him at the altar kiss another man.
The thrill of the moment only amplified my wild thoughts, but my confidence was shot the moment he fucking dared to interrupt us.
“So, you must be Elliot? I’m Stella, the bride, in case that wasn’t obvious,” Stella introduces herself with a grin. “It’s nice to finally meet you since I’ve heard so much about you.”
I rein in my surprise, since I can’t say the same for Stella.
“This wedding is truly something special,” I say, a smile masking my momentary confusion. “Congratulations to both of you.”
Stella relaxes her shoulders and sways to the music with a mint julep in her hand. Like Stella, most of the guests are relaxed and appear to be enjoying themselves.
“Thank you, Elliot. I know it’s not as extravagant as others, but it feels right for us,” she replies, her eyes sparkling with happiness.
“Maddy and Myles’s wedding was going to be this massive event.
I mean, at the beginning, it was supposed to be small, and Maddy was quite frustrated that it became this whole circus.
Oops, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned that, considering your situation with Maddy? ”
“It’s all right,” I quickly reassure her. “I’m aware of the situation.”
Stella shifts her gaze onto the dance floor, then back to me. “So, since you’re already on your second bourbon, I assume Maddy dancing with her ex isn’t sitting well with you?”
“It’s a harmless dance,” I deadpan, unwilling to show my true feelings.
She tilts her head slightly, her lips pursed in contemplation. “Is there such a thing as a harmless dance? You know, Maddy has spoken very highly of you. She’s quite… smitten, if that’s the right word.”
The comment leaves me questioning the woman dancing with her ex, who has so easily consumed me. One minute, she’s my sister’s annoying best friend, and the next, I’m standing here like a damn fool, wondering what my next move will be.
Still in each other’s arms, Madelina engages in what appears to be a heavy conversation, based on her troubled expression.
I lower my eyes to the floor with my teeth clenched as the burning sensation inside my chest intensifies.
Slowly, I tilt my head to the left, then right, to loosen my tense muscles before glancing up again.
This time, Madelina appears to be enjoying herself. Her laughter bubbles up effortlessly and her shoulders relax. Myles’s smile widens at the same time Madelina’s eyes sparkle and another wave of laughter escapes her.
I return my focus to Stella, who’s still beside me, but my breathing becomes coarser and faster. “Sorry, what was that you said?” I ask, distracted by the two of them.
Stella lets out a long, drawn-out sigh, accompanied by a sympathetic smile. “Elliot, don’t wait too long to show Maddy what she means to you. She’s something special.”
I press my lips together with a contrived smile while Stella’s words burrow into my mind. A friend of hers approaches, then Stella excuses herself to return to the groom.
Everyone appears to be having a good time, dancing to the music as I sulk like a pathetic loser at the bar. I call for another bourbon, but I nurse the drink rather than consume it irrationally.
“Hey.” Madelina places her hand on my shoulder, the touch igniting a spark within me. “Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere quieter to talk.”
I nod. “Sure.”
Madelina leans over the bar, raising her voice above the music to order a drink. The bartender nods with a wide grin, then hands Madelina a bottle of red wine.
“Let’s go,” she says, her fingers intertwining with mine, pulling me outside where the sun has started to set, painting the sky in hues of fiery red, promising another scorching day ahead.
We walk toward the pond where the ceremony was held, which is far enough from the barn that we can hear each other over the music. Madelina sets the bottle down on a weathered wooden bench and motions for me to join her.
I pop the cork, the sound echoing loudly between us, scaring off the birds roosting in the tree beside the pond. As they fly away into the distance, Madelina takes a generous swig. I follow suit, the change in liquor unsettling on my taste buds.
“I despise weddings,” Madelina confesses. “They wreak havoc on everyone’s emotions.”
“Your emotions?” I question, my tone coming out more bitter than I had intended.
“Yes, well… that was a bit awkward,” she admits, biting her lip while her cheeks flush.
I lower my gaze to the ground. “You looked like you were enjoying it.”
“Hmm, let’s see,” she begins, rubbing her chin with a hint of sarcasm. “My ex-fiancé, who I left at the altar, decides to dance with me to ask why I ran away, while I’m secretly wondering when my best friend’s older brother became a good kisser.”
“Good?” I tease, my eyes narrowing playfully.
She sighs, unable to look at me. “Great.”
“Just great?” I press further, enjoying seeing her flustered.
Madelina groans dramatically, yet the smile on her face tells a different story. “You’re really making this difficult for me, aren’t you?”
“You certainly made it hard for me,” I counter. “No pun intended.”
Laughter fills the air as she tries to calm herself down. “Oh my God, look at me. I’m tipsy on a fake date with my best friend’s older brother, and I danced with my ex-fiancé, whom I left at the altar. This runaway bride is a hot mess right now.”
I take a long, fulfilling sip of my drink, savoring the moment, but then reality crashes back. I need to drive us home soon.
“I have to slow down if you want to get home in one piece,” I say out loud. “Stella mentioned your wedding was supposed to be an extravagant affair.”
“Yeah, maybe that’s why I loathe them now,” she admits, her voice tinged with uncertainty.
“It became bigger than the two of us, and I hated it. I envisioned an enchanting moment, a fairy tale, you know? But the reality is, you’re binding yourself to one person for eternity, all while standing before your family and friends, and spending a fortune on stupid things like amuse-bouche. It almost feels like PTSD now.”
“Amuse-bouche, if prepared correctly, can be quite enjoyable,” I tell her.
Madelina flinches her head back slightly. “It’s a small blob of God knows what.”
“It’s because they’re not ordered off the menu, and it’s prepared according to the chef’s style.
I, for one, find that people enjoy the pickled baby beets complemented by herbed goat cheese.
For a colorful palette and to ignite the taste buds, pairing it with a citrus fruit makes it so much better. ”
“You lost me at baby beets,” she deadpans.
“How could I lose you at baby beets?” I ask, surprised to hear such nonsense. “You’re telling me you don’t like them?”
“Hated them as a kid.”
“Well, you’re not a kid anymore,” I remind her. “So, what pushed you to go through with it? Ending the wedding, I mean.”
“Mmm… Eva and Aston,” Madelina replies, staring out into the now dark meadow. “They’d been sneaking around behind my back, acting like they could hide it. My brother changed, and he was happy, you know. But it only reminded me how miserable I had become.”
I watch the lily pads floating like small green boats on the surface of the pond. Around us, spotlights point toward the lily pads, providing a warm ambiance. Bluebell Ranch is a pretty nice place, but it ain’t Paris.
“They really make it appear effortless, the whole being-in-love thing,” I say.
“It should be, shouldn’t it? Being with your soulmate should feel as natural as breathing,” she muses, her gaze distant.
I shrug lightly. “You’re asking the wrong person.”
“Do you believe in soulmates?” she presses, but as her eyes fix on mine, I can see she’s about to ask something uncomfortable. “Did you think Nicole was your soulmate?”
My lips press down as I allow my shoulders to relax from the breath I’d unknowingly been holding in. “No.”
“So, this whole more thing, I’m trying to figure it out,” Madelina says, her voice soft with a hint of sadness. “What is love, you know?”
“C’est cela l’amour, tout donner, tout sacrifier sans espoir de retour,” I respond with one of my favorite Camus quotes.
Madelina tilts her head, her brow furrowing in concentration. “That is love, to give everything, to sacrifice everything, without hope of return. I think?”
“Tu parles francais?” I ask, a grin breaking across my face.
“Yes… no. It takes me a moment to piece it all together,” Madelina responds candidly, then smiles brightly. “You know what they say about a man who can speak French?”
“Let me venture a wild guess,” I say, leaning closer.
Madelina laughs. “I guess you have the whole package.”
My body inches closer to hers, eyes drawn to her lips, longing to kiss her this time without the prying eyes of the wedding guests upon us. But then the best man steps out, calling us back inside for the cutting of the cake and the couple’s first dance.
Inside, the atmosphere buzzes with excitement as the happy couple and their guests gather around the cowboy-hat-shaped cake, an explosion of cheers erupting as they kiss.
The band invites everyone to the dance floor, and instantly, Madelina pulls me by the hand back to the spot where we first danced.
As “I’m Yours” by Jason Mraz plays in the background, I draw her in closer, the scent of her sweet perfume intoxicating.
“Madelina,” I whisper, a wave of honesty overcoming me. “About earlier…”
“Don’t say it, Elliot,” she mumbles, urgency lacing her words. “Please don’t tell me you did this just to make Myles jealous.”
I hold back my words, my eyes drifting to Myles and his girlfriend, dancing not far from us.
True to my suspicions, Myles is watching closely, calculating ways to intervene in whatever is happening between Madelina and me.
I’m not stupid—I know when another man is teetering on the edge of insanity because his ego is heavily bruised.
“Again, you’re assuming,” I reply softly.
“Elliot…”
“Madelina,” I whisper in return, the tension thickening.
She narrows her brows, then bites her lip. The lips that keep teasing me. I battle with the conflict arising within me, torn between which move to make.
“What are we doing?” she asks the question we both are thinking.
“We’re just two friends, dancing.”
“Just two friends dancing. Is that really all we’re doing?” she challenges, her gaze searching mine.
“Yes, that’s all we’re doing,” I affirm, but as Myles diverts his stare back to us, I can’t resist the urge to show him what he’s missing. I lift my hands, cradling her chin, drawing her in for another intense kiss.
For tonight, this woman is mine.
And whatever we’re doing might be wrong.
But why does it also feel so damn right?