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I opened my eyes to discover we were spooning.
Historically, I wasn’t a snuggler. In my opinion, an adult couple needed a king-size bed so they could each sleep without having to touch the other. Sex was sex, and sleep was sleep—the two didn’t need to intersect.
But lying there, with Max holding me like I was his teddy bear, was very nice.
It was probably because it was Max—someone that I knew wasn’t trying to be romantic; that’s probably why I liked it.
But I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it for a few more moments, memorizing the weight of his arms and the feel of his warm breath on the side of my neck as he slept soundly. It was nothing, just a friendly nap, but I didn’t want to forget the way it felt.
I carefully slid out from under his arms, and Max was obviously exhausted, because when I popped up on the side of the bed and looked down at him, he was still sound asleep.
His face was soft and sweet—boyish, even—as he dozed, and something about it made my heart pinch in my chest. I grabbed my phone and took a photo to use against him later.
But when I went into the bathroom to brush my teeth, I looked at the photo and, for some reason, didn’t want him to know about it.
I kind of just wanted to save it.
For me.
twenty-nine
Max
“If anyone hereknows of any reason why these two—”
“I do.” I stood and then felt Sophie stand beside me and add, “Wedo, actually.”
I glanced down at her and felt it again, that burning in my chest. She was wearing a long yellow sundress with dark sunglasses, and she was fucking stunning. I’d damn near stopped breathing when she’d come out of her room with shiny bare shoulders and clear lip gloss—like a summer nymph who should dance barefoot in fields of sunflowers.
That was the sort of shit I kept thinking every time I got near her.
It was ridiculous, and I wasn’t sure what I was going to do about it. I knew exactly what Sophie wanted—absolutely nothing. She wanted zero feelings from me, and she had zero feelingsforme. So there was nothing for me to do, right?
And hell, I’d sworn off relationships.
But things with her were so easy, sogood, that it seemed a little sad to let it slip away without even trying. When Soph had snuggled against me during our nap, nothing had ever felt as natural as wrapping my arms around her and going back to sleep with my face buried in her strawberry-scented hair.
Fuck.What in the fuck was I thinking?
The shocked murmur started, and the groom did exactly what he’d said he was going to do.
“Can we talk in private?” he said calmly, and the bride looked like she was going to puke. “Ladies and gentlemen, we will be right back.”
The four of us went out through the foyer and into a church office that was obviously where the bride had changed into her dress. Clothing, makeup, hairspray—it littered nearly every surface, but there were six bridesmaids, so that made sense.
The groom closed the door behind us and locked it.
Sophie crossed her arms like she was cold, and the bride looked uncomfortable, like she didn’t know what came next.
“So... holy shit.” The groom, who looked incredibly young, grinned at the bride and said, “We actually did it.”
She gave him a shaky smile. “I’m scared they’re going to talk us out of this, though.”
He shook his head and reached for her hand. “I won’t let them.”
It didn’t make sense to me, but the groom insisted that our quiet objection would be all they’d need. The kid said their families would respect their privacy and allow the reason to be “just between the two of them.”
“So,” Sophie said, a tiny crinkle between her eyebrows as she looked at their hands. “What happens now?”
