Page 163 of Sparks Fly

I nodded. “I’m okay.”

“Good,” she said. “Because Sawyer is outside and she looks like she’s about to kill someone.”

I blinked. “What?”

Lilly grinned. “I think she’s nervous.”

My heart flipped so hard it almost hurt.

When I finally saw Sawyer waiting in the hallway, suit perfect, hair done in that effortless way that absolutely was not effortless, I stopped breathing.

She looked up.

Her eyes swept over me slowly.

“Jesus,” she murmured.

I laughed, already breathless. “Is that good?”

Sawyer stepped closer, careful not to bump my hair or catch the fabric of my dress. Her gaze dropped to my mouth.

“That’s… really good,” she said.

I swallowed. “You look—”

“Don’t,” she warned softly, her eyes already darkening. “Not right now.”

I laughed, cheeks burning. “Okay.”

Sawyer’s fingers brushed my wrist, subtle and grounding. “You okay?”

I nodded. “You?”

Sawyer let out a breath. “I’m here.”

The ceremony started. The music swelled. I walked down the aisle with my bouquet clutched a little too tightly.

I did my job. I stood beside Lilly. I held her hand when it shook. I smiled at the right moments.

But my eyes kept finding Sawyer.

She sat near the front with her shoulders squared and her hands folded in her lap, her suit sharp against all the softness around her. She looked out of place in the best possible way. Like she had walked into the room and claimed her space without asking.

When her eyes met mine, my chest loosened.

No flinch.

No looking away.

For the first time, there was nothing standing between us except a room full of people who could see exactly what I felt.

After the ceremony, in the swirl of congratulations and photos and flower petals and champagne, my parents approached.

I saw them coming and my body tensed on instinct, some old reflex I hadn’t fully shaken. Sawyer felt it immediately. Her hand slid to the small of my back like an anchor.

My mother smiled, tight at first and then softer. “Addison.”

“Hi,” I said.