“See what?”
When she turns back to me and meets my gaze, the look in her eyes crushes me.
Fuck.
Her beautiful, dark eyes are broken and hollow. A look I’ve never seen in her before. Like all the fight she had left has drained out of her.
“You on the dance floor,” she continues, her voice trembling. “With her.”
My stomach churns, feeling as if I might vomit before I can respond.
“Meadow… I’m so fucking sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize,” she cuts me off, holding up a hand. “I’m not upset about the garter thing, okay? It’s silly. It’s just some dumb wedding game. I get it. You felt pressured. Your friends were watching.”
“Meadow, I shouldn't have done it—”
“It’s not about that,” she interjects, shaking her head. “It’s just…” she trails off, her voice cracking.
“It made me realize something.”
Slowly, so slowly, I take a step toward her.
“What?” I can only manage a whisper.
She lets out an empty laugh.
“That I don’t belong here.”
I don’t belong here.
My heart fucking splits in half with her confession—that she could ever think so low of herself.
“That is not true,” I retort, my voice tight. “I will not let you believe such a ridiculous lie.”
“I don’t, Owen,” she insists, her voice rising. “I don’t belong in your world. Did you see her?”
I hesitate, searching for the words to explain how that woman could never compare to Meadow. I can’t even recall her face. I was too caught up in getting back to Meadow.
All that was on my mind was her. Getting back to her.
“Of course you did,” she scoffs, thick tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s fucking gorgeous. Confident and captivating. She looked like she was born to be the center of attention. She thrives in it.”
I take another step closer as my throat tightens, finally closing the distance between us and gently wrapping my fingers around her wrist.
“And you fit right in with her,” she continues, her voice barely audible. “The two of you looked so right together.”
“Meadow, stop talking like that,” I croak, sliding my fingers up to her elbow. “It didn’t mean a damn thing.”
“I know,” she snaps, pulling her arm from my grip. “That’s not the point.”
“Then what is it?” I ask, pushing a hand through my wind-blown hair. “What can I do to fix this? Just tell me. I’ll do anything.”
She presses a hand to her sternum like she’s trying to keep her heart from beating out of her chest. A sob cracks from deep in her throat as she covers her mouth with her free hand.
“You can’t,” she chokes out. “We don’t fit, Owen. But she… Someone like her is who you’re supposed to spend your life with. A stunning, infectious, outgoing woman.”
Christ.
