I looked away first and reached for my jacket, because it was easier than staying with the thought for too long. Easier than naming it.
The truth was, I was getting used to him, and I wasn’t entirely sure what I was supposed to do with that.
We arrived at the estate just as guests were taking their seats along the lawn overlooking the water, the musicians already playing softly near the front. We slipped into a pair of empty seats toward the back without much trouble.
The setting looked like something out of a magazine. White chairs stretched across the manicured lawn, the ocean beyond glowing gold under the late afternoon sun. It should have felt overly staged, but instead it came across as unexpectedly intimate.
Darryl and Elliot looked good together, not just because they were dressed well, but because of the way they kept looking at each other throughout the ceremony, like they were always aware of where the other was.
I found myself smiling more than once during the ceremony.
Whatever had existed between Darryl and me belonged firmly in the past. Seeing him standing beside someone who clearly made him happy didn’t hurt. If anything, it felt right.
Beside me, Dane’s arm rested along the back of my chair. At some point during the vows, I became aware of his fingers brushing lightly against my shoulder.
The touch was probably accidental. Still, I found myself leaning toward him, just enough that my shoulder brushed his side. His arm shifted around me more securely, drawing me in a little closer, as if he’d already been waiting for me to do exactly that.
Twilight had settled over the grounds as we followed the rest of the guests toward the reception tent. The sailcloth structure was strung with warm lights, glowing softly against the darkening sky. Music drifted from inside while servers moved between tables with trays of champagne and food.
We were guided toward a table near the middle of the tent, close enough to stay in things, not close enough to be trapped in them. Unfortunately, it was also the table containing several of my former college friends.
The newlyweds arrived a few minutes later to loud applause and cheers. Elliot looked delighted. Darryl looked like he wanted to disappear. The contrast made me laugh before I could stop it.
Dinner followed soon after. The speeches began not long after that, starting with a few friends, then family, then Glenn and Lynn.
Most of the stories circled around summers at the estate, vacations, family gatherings, years of memories stretching further back than I could comfortably follow.
I smiled when everyone else smiled, laughed when everyone else laughed. But every so often I caught someone at the table glancing toward me before quickly looking away again.
Eventually, the microphone made its way to Darryl’s father, and the room quieted almost immediately.
“I’ve always been proud of my son,” he began.
The early part of the speech was nothing unexpected. Stories from childhood, reminders of a stubborn streak, years after college when no one had been entirely sure what direction Darryl’s life was heading. I listened with only half my attention at first, letting the words pass without much weight.
Gradually, the tone shifted. He spoke about the years after college, when Darryl had joined the family company and started working alongside him, describing it as a turning point, the moment everything had fallen into place. The moment Darryl had found direction, the future he had been meant for.
“And then,” his father said, smiling toward the head table, “he found his mate.” Applause broke out immediately.
“A fellow wolf who understands him completely.” Glasses lifted in easy agreement.
“He found someone who shares his values, his future, and the life he’s worked so hard to build.”
I took a slow sip of wine, aware my smile had started to feel fixed in place. It was just a wedding speech, I told myself.
People turned things into stories at weddings, smoothing complicated lives into versions that sounded cleaner than they really were.
And yet I couldn’t stop listening.
Every word seemed to assume the same thing: a shared future, a shared life, a shared world, as if that was simply how things were meant to fall into place.
My gaze drifted, almost without permission, toward Dane, then away again.
I took another sip of wine before I could think too much about it.
A burst of applause pulled me back. I blinked, realizing only then that my hands had tightened against my knees.
“Seth?” Dane’s voice came just as his fingers brushed my arm.
