Page 125 of Rush

Cheeky bastard.

Then my gaze drifts back to Andrew—tears streaking quietly down his face, awe etched in every line of him.

He looks like a man at the top of the world. His beautiful bride just inches away.

My heart pangs. Would I ever know love like that?

I look down at the bouquet in my hands. I thought I had something with Alex. I mean, it felt like we were headed there—if not for him breaking up with me.

I swallow back the hurt.

My thoughts threatening to crack the façade I’ve plastered on.

Breathe. Don’t falter. It’s not about you right now.

Beside Andrew, I catch Broderick’s brow lift. Something about the way he looks at me soothes the ache inside, as if he’s answering the questions swirling through my head.

I glance back at Andrew and Philippa, now side by side, my father taking his seat beside Carole. He touches a hand to his heart.

The gesture seems so unlike him. Soft. Almost endearing. This is the longest stretch of time I’ve ever been around my father.

In truth, I don’t really know him—nor did I care to try. Not until that promise to my mom.

As Philippa and Andrew exchange vows, I sink into the moment, hanging on every word.

Every promise.

Hoping, for their sakes, they’d never break them. I’m proud of her. Proud to share this with them.

I sneak another look at Broderick. He’s no longer staring at me.

As I study his profile, a wave of heat floods me. That gorgeous man had let me do whatever I wanted to him. The memory thrills me. Because I can’t wait for him to do more unspeakable things to me.

He must sense it—because just as I’m openly ogling him, our eyes meet.

He smirks.

Behave, I mouth, though my pulse is already racing.

“I’m going to fuck him tonight,” Avery whispers.

I don’t know if that’s meant for me or a general declaration to the universe.

First the comments about Alex, now Broderick. This bullshit is wearing thin.

Back off, bitch.

The thought comes so fast. Even it surprises me.

By the time the ceremony ends and guests drift toward cocktail hour, I can still feel Broderick’s gaze trailing me as Igreet guests, smile for photos, and play the part of dutiful maid of honor.

Even as I’m reeling from Avery’s earlier jab—as if Alex and I had been just some passing fling—the ache in my chest tells a different story. He was the first man I’d truly let in.

And now Broderick.

Her comment shouldn’t have gotten under my skin. We’d agreed—this wasn’t exclusive. We were allowed to date. That was the deal.

But still.