But it’s the night before the wedding, and I’m out of fucking time.
There’s no rehearsal dinner. No rehearsal. I don’t know how that happened, but maybe Ivy realized making him look at the altar twice wasn’t wise.
After our family dinner, I pull Jules aside.
“Can Anna sleep over with you tonight?” My voice is frantic, my hands twisting into each other, unable to stop fidgeting.
Her eyes go wide. She knows exactly what I’m about to do.
“Fuck yes!” She pulls me into a fierce hug. “I’ve got Anna and your cover. Go do the damn thing.”
A line from our favorite Bachelorette and the final push I need to do the most reckless, and possibly bravest, thing of my life.
Ivy commands the dining room table, issuing final orders before the big day. With James tucked away at the hotel, she’s fully absorbed in last-minute preparations, confident he’s safely out of my reach. All eyes are on her. No one notices me slip away toward the basement.
My running gear waits where I left it a few hours ago, when my plan took form. Near the exit. My personal escape route. I strip off my jeans and sweater, pulling on my winter running gear with clumsy fingers. My zipper sticks, betraying the calm I’m pretending to feel.
I have my phone. My keys. And one plan: find James.
The resort isn’t far. Just a few miles of road to where James, his mom, and Darrell moved earlier today. The distance slips away, my mind cycling through everything I need to tell him. Every truth I’m finally ready to ask for and give in return.
Words I’ve buried for years rise demanding to be spoken.
As the lodge comes into view at the base of the ski resort, a glowing beacon in the dark, I push myself even harder. I break into a sprint, breath ragged, heart hammering. The lobby glows with holiday warmth. Twinkling strands of light hug the thick wooden rafters, shiny red and green ribbons hang from wreaths. Guests move past, going about their evenings, even as something monumental—years in the making—is about to happen.
But I only see one person: the dark-haired man, at the bar, staring into a crystal tumbler of amber liquid.
His hair is disheveled. Dark circles shadow his eyes. Nothing about him is relaxed.
He looks up and sees me. A lifetime of emotion compresses into a single, searing glance. Desperation. Pleading. Love. His expression shifts from wrecked to hopeful in a heartbeat.
“You’re here?” His eyes sweep over me, drinking me in. “Did yourunhere?”
I lift his glass from the bar, holding his gaze as I bring it to my lips. He watches my mouth close over the rim. The whiskey burns going down, but my lips quirk in a playful smirk.
“Well, I figured I could use the miles and, you know... happened to end up here.”
“Sydney...” His voice is a choked whisper. “I don’t know if I can take a joke right now. Why are you here?”
I set the glass down, pull off my mittens, and trace the line of his jaw. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
He doesn’t hesitate. Tossing a stack of bills on the counter, he takes my hand and leads me to the elevators. He doesn’t let go—not as we walk, not while we wait, shoulder to shoulder with other couples. He’s still holding on when we reach his room, when he opens the door, when he guides me to the small couch.
James closes his eyes for a moment, exhaling slowly through his nose. “Before I have a heart attack, can you please say it?” His voice is deeper than usual, rougher. “Tell me what this means.”
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get here.”
“What does that mean? I need you to be very specific.” He drops to his knees, bringing himself to my eye level.
“James…” I whisper. “I’m here foryou.For me. I don’t want you to marry her.”
With an exhale that sounds like relief, James pulls my hat off and cups my face with shaking hands.
“Say it again.”
“Please, choose me.”
His breath is soft against my hair, his heartbeat a steady rhythm against mine as he draws me closer. “Sydney, I’ve been yours for years. I’ve just been waiting for you to get here.”
