Shit. Another point we didn’t discuss. I am never this impulsive, and in this moment I’m seriously regretting my lack of preparation. What kind of kiss is he going to lay on me? He wouldn’t do anything inappropriate. Would he? I mean, I guess we did just agree to have sex with each other. I think.
That’s when I feel his fingers squeeze my hands, like he can read me and he’s pulling me out of the spiral. Wendell’s looking at me with aglint in his eyes and a boyish grin on his face. For the only second in months, time stands still as I let myself take him in.
The man I’m marrying finally resembles that hot jogger I met ages ago. The boy who stole my breath in a single glance. The boy who laughed instead of cringed at my awkwardness. The boy who for years would be my constant friend. Reliable. Nice. Steady.
He’s here in this boyish grin.
But I can’t let myself open that door. It was closed years ago, and right now he’s just helping me out. As a friend. How many times have we said that over the years? Drawing, redrawing, painting, modelling in clay, the line that exists firmly between us. Friends.
Wendell’s hand on my waist tips me forward while his other hand goes softly to my cheek where his thumb caresses my jaw before he presses a soft kiss to my lips.
Chaste. Super chaste. Uber chaste. The chaste-est of the chaste-est of all kisses.
See? Friends.
Tell that to the lightning zinging up my left side.
Chapter 6
Wendell
“Welcome home.” I open the door to my apartment, inviting her in. Delivery packages are piled up on the table in greeting.
“Whoa, do you have a shopping addiction?” She asks me adorably over her shoulder.
“Those are for you. We didn’t have a chance to grab your stuff, so I bought you some essentials.”
“Some?”
In answer, I give her a small shrug. “If you don’t want something, I can return it. No biggie.”
“You didn’t have to do this, you know?”
“Yup. Wanna watch something and order in some food?” I’m not sure what to make of our pre-wedding conversation, so I plan to move at her pace.
When she agrees to my suggestion, we place an order and sink into the couch before I let her pick the movie. The Korean food tastes delicious. Might just be a new favorite place.
But then the worst happens.
On screen I watch a bus about to crash, and over the surround sound speakers a loud screech followed by a long drawn out horn fills the room.
My body tenses and even though I know I’m not about to have a full blown panic attack, I’m braced for the gory images to flash through my mind.
I lean forward and put my head into my hands, praying I don’t get a migraine.
“Wendell?” Peyton is beside me, hand on my back. “Are you okay?” She’s turned off the TV, so we’re sitting in darkness.
“Ya. I’m good,” I mumble. “Just need a second.”
A long beat passes before she nudges me gently. “You can tell your wife anything, you know?”
And maybe that word just shifts something inside of me. Maybe it’s the darkness lending some anonymity to the moment. Maybe it’s just years in the making. But when I open my mouth, I finally tell her the truth.
“I was in an accident.” I turn my head to meet her gaze, and then, in sync, we lean back to rest on the back cushion of the couch. “I was thirteen. My hockey team was coming back from an out of city tournament, and the bus crashed.”
I hear her suppressing a gasp, knowing what comes next.
“Everyone was gone. In a second. I was the only one who made it. Hardly a scratch on me.”
