She groans, still laughing. “You were doing so well until then. Why do you have to ruin it?”
I shrug, smug. “Can’t help myself. It’s part of the package.”
For the first time all night, she seems to relax, her body softening as she follows my lead. The stiffness is gone, replaced by something lighter. The sound of her laugh lingers betweenus, warm and contagious, and I can’t help but smile.
“There,” I murmur, my lips close to her ear. “You’re actually enjoying yourself. Was that so hard?”
“Don’t get cocky, Darling,” she retorts, her voice brisk, but there’s a spark of amusement in her eyes.
“Too late,” I reply, my hand sliding lower on her back. “It’s part of my charm.”
“You’re impossible,” she mutters, but her tone lacks real heat.
Her gaze meets mine, and for a heartbeat, it feels like the rest of the world has disappeared. I take the opportunity to drop the suggestion I’ve been mulling over.
“You know,” I murmur, “we could make a deal.”
She tilts her head, curious but cautious. “What kind of deal?”
“You want things handled a certain way, right? How about I take on what Wyatt really cares about—his tux and the bachelor party—and you handle everything else? That way, you don’t have to chase me down every other day.”
She hesitates, her lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “So you’ll actually make sureWyatt gets a tux and has a proper bachelor party?”
“Scout’s honor.” I tighten my hold on her hand. “You get control over all the details, and I get to keep my sanity.”
Her eyes light up. “No more ignoring my schedules?”
“Not if I don’t have to,” I tease. “Consider this a truce.”
She lets out a quiet laugh, and I can tell she’s genuinely relieved. “Deal. But if you let Wyatt show up in jeans, I’m holding you personally responsible.”
I laugh, giving her a reassuring nod. “Wouldn’t dream of it. You’ll have your perfect wedding without me getting in the way.”
Her smile lingers, softer this time, and for the first time, I see her without the walls, without the plans and pressure she puts on herself. Just Lainey, leaning into me, letting herself enjoy the moment.
And damn, it’s captivating.
“You know you’re not so bad when you’re not trying to color-code my life.”
She lets out another laugh, and it’s addictive. “You’re not so bad either—when you’re not being your charming, aggravating self.”
I feign shock, clutching my chest dramatically. “Careful, Lainey. That almost sounded like a compliment.”
“Don’t push it,” she warns, though her smile doesn’t waver. After a beat, she adds, almost reluctantly, “Okay, just a tiny bit. You’re tolerable.”
“Tolerable?” I echo, raising a brow. “High praise coming from you.”
She tilts her head, her blue eyes catching mine, softer now. “Must be the alcohol.”
The words are light, teasing, but the way she looks at me… it’s anything but. Her gaze lingers, flickering to my lips, and for a moment, the world shrinks to just us. The faint buzz of the party fades into the background, replaced by the steady rhythm of the music and the crackling tension between us.
I feel it too—the pull. The way her body leans closer, her breath mingling with mine. For a brief, reckless second, I think about kissing her. Maybe it is the alcohol. Or maybe it’s just her.
But then the music shifts, the slow, intimate melody giving way to something faster, more upbeat. The spell breaks, and Lainey steps back, blinking like she’s just realized how close we are.
“I need some air,” she says quickly, shaking her head as if to clear it.
Without a word, I follow her. She weaves through the crowd, her steps quick and purposeful, until she finds an empty hallway just beyond the ballroom. She leans against the wall, her hand running through her hair as if the whole night is finally catching up to her.
