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“Not really,” he answered honestly.
Her head tilted. “You have…”
Silently, he watched her reach out to wipe a stray tear from his cheek. It was such a sweet gesture, so kind. No judgment. No rolling her eyes or calling him overly emotional.
“Thank you.” Glancing up ahead to where Madigan and Ashley stood at the end of the aisle, greeting their guests, he said, “I guess we’d better go congratulate them.” He gave his head a shake. “If I don’t fall apart again, it’ll be a miracle.”
When she took his hand, squeezed his fingers, and said, “I got you,” he knew it wasn’t true, just something people said, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t pretend, only for tonight, that it was.
* * *
Across the table,Chrissy poked at her chicken breast with her fork while Paul scowled at his salmon. “You live in Seattle, right, Cole?” Chrissy asked.
“He does,” Mira said, clutching her water glass so tightly her knuckles turned white around it.
“How did you two meet? Mira never told us.”
Since Chrissy’s question was directed at him, Cole replied, “We had that big fundraiser here last winter. And—”
“What was that called?” Paul interrupted, condescension rippling off him in waves. “Grungeapalooza or something?”
Setting down her fork, Chrissy frowned. “Paul, don’t be rude.”
“It was Flannelfest, actually,” Mira said. “Davis named it. I thought it was clever.”
Paul at least had the decency to look cowed. “Oh, right.”
“There I was,” Cole continued, deciding in that moment to mount a can’t-lose charm offensive against Paul’s petulance, “up on stage, drumming away, when I spotted this woman dancing in the crowd. She had the brightest green eyes I’d ever seen. I was so distracted, I missed enough beats in the song to make Madigan throw his guitar pick at me.”
Slowly, Mira set down her glass and turned to look at him.
“As soon as I got off stage,” he said, his smile so genuine even he couldn’t tell if it was part of the act anymore, “I followed her into the warming hut and bought her a cider. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Ugh.” Chrissy propped an elbow on the table, then plopped her cheek into her hand. “That is so romantic.”
“It really was.” Mira grinned back at him, until Paul asked, “Isn’t it hard, dating long distance? Never seeing each other?” with a veritable mountain of jealous-ex energy.
It raised Cole’s hackles. Paul didn’t own Mira, nor was he owed any explanation about her love life. With a shameless smirk, he said, “It’s amazing what you can accomplish over FaceTime.”
Mira coughed on her water, and Cole took full advantage of the chance to touch her again, stroking her back with an unhurried hand, letting his finger skate beneath the bodice of her dress, right over that tattoo he was dying to see. When he pinched her zipper pull and gave it the tiniest tug, he was rewarded with a sharp gasp he’d remember for the rest of his life.
“Can I have your attention!” Conor boomed over the mic, making Cole jump straight out of his skin until Mira slid her hand into his.
“It’s time, isn’t it?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so,” he said, easing his nerves by brushing his thumb over the velvety skin on the inside of her wrist.
“I’d like to invite Madigan’s best man and best friend, Cole Sanderson, up for a toast.”
Before he stood from the table, Mira pulled him close, leaned in, and kissed his cheek. “For good luck.”
He stared into her eyes, and from somewhere very, very far away, Conor said,“We’re not getting any younger, Cole.”
“Shit.” He patted his pockets down for his phone, panic rising when he came up empty.
“It’s right here.”
Taking the phone she’d picked up from the table, despite the nerves racing through him like a thoroughbred after the bell, he smiled. “You’re a lifesaver.” When she smiled back, he realized they were good at pretending to be a couple. Davis was right. In another world, another time, they would probably have made a great one.
