Page 22 of Waiting for You

"I really need to sleep," she said.

"I'll see you at the ceremony tomorrow."

She gave me one last, infuriatingly polite smile before turning on her heel. I stood rooted to the concrete, tracking her retreat until she reached the corner, flagged a passing yellow cab, slipped into the backseat, and disappeared into the city.

I stayed out in the freezing air long after her taillights faded, trying to convince myself this platonic distance was for the best. We needed to stay in our separate lanes.

SIX

SLOANE

The morning of the wedding, I was elbow-deep in a floral emergency. One of the cascading arrangements near the altar had tilted overnight, and the greenery was drooping at an angle that made it look like a houseplant someone forgot to water.

I'd been awake since five, in my flats and a bathrobe with my bridesmaid dress hanging on the back of a chair, crouched on the floor with a roll of florist wire and a vocabulary I didn't use in public.

"If you twist the stem at the base, it'll hold."

I looked up and found Xavier standing in the aisle, hands in his pockets, wearing a white dress shirt with the top two buttons open and his dark hair still damp. He looked like he'd been awake for a while, too. There was a crease between his brows that deepened when he crouched beside me, frowning at the sagging arrangement, already diagnosing it.

"I'm not twisting anything," I informed him. "I'm engineering a solution."

"With florist wire."

"With florist wire, indeed. Don't question my methods."

He reached past me, caught the leaning stem between two fingers, and braced it against the frame with his other hand. His shoulder pressed against mine, the smell of his soap flooding my senses, pulling me eight years back.

Get a grip, Sloane.

I forced myself back to the present, and focused my mental energy to the wire and the work in front of me.

"Hold that," he directed.

I did as told and watched him wrap the wire twice, tucked the tail behind the greenery, and leaned back to inspect the result. The arrangement sat upright, spilling down the frame again like it had never misbehaved.

"There," he said. "Structural."

"Thank you," I said, keeping my eyes on the flowers.

We straightened up and stood there in the empty aisle. The chairs stretched out on either side of us, draped in white, still waiting for guests. The hall was silent except for the caterers setting up beyond the far doors, the faint clinking of glasses being arranged on trays.

He looked at me, then at the altar, then back at me.

"You did all of this?" he asked.

"Every arrangement."

"It's incredible, Sloane."

His words carried nothing but sincerity, and it made my heart ache a little—like he always did before. Xavier had never held back his appreciation for the things that I did. And for a second I forgot every reason I had to keep my distance.

"You should get dressed," I managed. "The ceremony starts in an hour."

"So should you." His eyes dropped to my bathrobe and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"I'm aware of my appearance. Thank you."

"I didn't say anything."