Her voice faded. Everything faded as the light in Parker's eyes dimmed, filmed over. Her hand slid from mine, her cool shell pulled tight around her. I caught the flash of awareness in her eyes as they flicked over Tyler, my mother, my father, before landing on me.
The tiniest burst of anguish, sharp and desperate, and then it was all gone. The light in her eyes, the soft touch of her skin on mine. I made some excuse and headed straight for whiskey number five, my heart pounding in hollow thuds of loss.
I'm not proud of what happened next.
Not proud, but in that whole clusterfuck of a wedding, what happened next is the one thing I don't regret. I'm self-aware enough to know Ishouldregret it. It was an asshole move. I never said I wasn't an asshole.
I'm more like my brother than I want to admit. When I see something I want, I'm ruthless. I was going to walk away from Parker Kingsley. I had to. I'd seen that flare of awareness in her eyes. And I'd seen it dim as she made her choice.
But she hadn't made a choice. Not really. Not until she knew what she was giving up.
Like I said, I'm not proud of what happened next. At least I can honestly say I didn't plan it.
It was a happy coincidence that I, six whiskies deep, strode down the darkened hallway, determined to get the hell out and away from this fiasco when who did I see but the bride herself coming toward me. Parker's shoulders were slumped, her eyes fixed on the carpet.
If she'd been looking where she was going she would have had time.
Time to escape.
Time to see what was coming and run.
Whatever had caught her attention, she had none left for her surroundings, which made it so incredibly easy to slide my arm around her shoulders and yank her into a dark supply closet.
I didn't say a word. I didn't have any words to say. This sliver of time was all we'd ever have, and I wasn't going to waste a minute of it on words. The dark settled around us, the sounds of the party cut off as I pulled Parker close, bending my head to her small frame.
The back of my fingers brushed her cheeks, warm and smooth. Her lips were fuller, softer than I'd expected, parting as I brushed her mouth with mine. Parker didn't shrink away. She didn't protest. She tilted her head back, wound her arms around my neck, and kissed me.
That kiss was fire, burning me from the inside out. Her eager mouth demanded mine, Parker as desperate as I was to make the most of every second we had. The only seconds we'd ever have. Parker's kiss was like nothing I'd ever imagined—the low groan in her throat, the desperate way she nipped at me, her teeth sinking into my lower lip, her tongue sliding against mine.
I barely had a thought for how her passion would translate to sex. This kiss was so much more than a prelude to something that could never be. For the first time, a kiss wasn't about an end goal. Wasn't about the first step to fucking.
This kiss was all we had and it was everything.
Everything I'd never imagined I wanted.
Everything I knew I'd never have. Not now. Not ever. And not because of me. I would have done anything to have Parker. Burned every bridge, laid waste to the party outside our dark closet. I have no limits when it comes to Parker, even then, after one kiss.
No, we'd never have more than this one kiss, because of Parker. Because of what happened next.
Someone in the hall must have tripped, bumped into the door, rattling it in its frame. Parker startled, tearing her mouth from mine, twisting her body away as I fumbled for the light switch, slapping it on and casting us both in harsh fluorescent light.
Flags of red stood out on Parker's high cheekbones. Her breath hard and fast, eyes wide and panicked. Her serene, perfect shell was gone, shredded by our kiss.
"I thought— I thought—" Her voice caught on a choke and she finished weakly, "I thought you were Tyler."
Disappointment stained the beauty of that kiss, the promise of everything I felt between us. "No, you didn't." I wasn't going to let her lie to me. I couldn't do anything about the lies she told herself.
Parker drew in a harsh breath and let it out, shoulders slumping in defeat. "No." She shook her head. "No, I didn't. I knew it was you. I wanted—" She caught herself, cutting off whatever she'd been about to say. "I can't. I just married your brother. And I'm not that kind of woman."
"You could be," I pushed. "You could take my hand and walk out of here with me." Something flickered in her eyes, and I pushed harder. "Take a chance, Parker. Take a chance with me and I promise you won't regret it."
I was insane. Definitely. I was insane. The look Parker gave me said she agreed. Still, she squeezed her eyes shut and drew in another breath, her fingers tangled together in a grip that left her knuckles bone white.
My heart stopped beating, my breath frozen in my lungs as I waited, balanced on a precipice, every cell in my body straining for the words I needed. Words that would give me hope. Give us a chance, a future—give us anything. I would have taken anything.
An eternity later, Parker opened her eyes. Wiping beneath her lashes to clear away the hint of tears, she whispered, "I can't. I'm sorry, Nash. I can't."
That was it. Her final answer. Parker wrenched open the door and disappeared back into her wedding reception. That was the last I saw of Parker Sawyer for a very long time.
