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We manage to make it to the end of the aisle without any hiccups. I release her arm so that she can take her place with the other bridesmaids while I head to the opposite side and position myself next to Adam. When I spot Claire sitting in the third row back, I smile, instantly feeling more at ease.
Claire has become somewhat of a security blanket for me. I don’t have any explanation for it other than her connection to Finley. Don’t get me wrong, that’s not the only reason. Claire is an incredible person and over the last three years has become like a sister to me, but I don’t think we’d be nearly as close if it weren’t for our shared loss.
I turn my attention to the back of the church as those in attendance stand and Sam enters the room with her father.
While I know it’s customary to watch the bride walk down the aisle, I can’t stop my gaze from sliding to Peyton instead.
I watch her expression shift from anxious to smiling to tearing up all in the matter of thirty seconds and I’m so enthralled in watching her that I don’t realize Sam has reached us until the minister begins to speak.
Snapping out of my fog, I turn my attention to my brother and his bride. And even though I try like hell to keep it there, I can’t stop myself from stealing glances at Peyton every chance I get.
——
“Well, we survived.”I nudge my arm against Peyton’s as we sit side by side in the limousine on our way to the reception hall.
“We did.” She smiles, her gaze locked on Sam and Andrew who are snuggled together in the back of the car, sharing a private conversation. “They look so happy.”
“They do,” I agree, trying to keep my thoughts from straying to the past.
It’s hard to do. I find myself comparing every single moment to those I shared with Finley. If I close my eyes I can still see her lying beneath me as we spent our first night together as husband and wife. Hear her giggles as we wrestled beneath the sheets. Feel her touch slide against my skin.
It all feels so real.
“Your date looked very pretty,” she comments, and it takes me a moment to realize she must be talking about Claire.
“Yeah,” I murmur.
“If you don’t mind me asking, who is she to you?”
“My best friend.” I avoid telling her she’s also my sister-in-law.
I’m not ready to talk about Finley with her. I’m not ready to talk about Finley with anyone. Not yet. Not when I still feel the pain of her loss like a knife stabbing me in the chest over and over.
“So you two...” she leaves the question hanging without finishing it.
“Are not dating,” I confirm, already knowing what she’s asking without her having to say the words.
Her eyes go down to the wedding band on my hand before moving back up to my face, her expression softening.
I don’t pretend that her reaction doesn’t confuse me. She’s clearly seen my ring and yet she hasn’t asked me about it even once.
It suddenly dawns on me that Aaron must have told her, and I don’t know why, but the thought is almost a relief. If she knows the truth then it spares me from having to tell her.
She opens her mouth like she wants to say something but snaps it closed without uttering a single word.
I’m thankful for that. Now is not the time or the place to discuss such things. Not when there’s so many people stuffed inside the limo to bear witness.
Even still, a part of me feels the overwhelmingneedto tell her. As if telling her will somehow lift the burden. As if it will set me free.
Whatever the reason, Iwantto tell her. For the first time since losing Finley, I want to share that loss with someone who never knew her.
I don’t know why though. I think that’s the part that bothers me the most. The not knowing why I feel this way.
I barely know this girl. I can’t pinpoint onerealthing I know about her. Yet I’m drawn to her. And in some weird way I feel like Finley is behind the scenes, orchestrating the entire thing. Like she’s telling me it’s time. Time to move on. Time to let go. Time to heal.
And a part of me wants to. A part of me wants it so desperately that I feel like I can’t breathe. But then the other part of me, the larger part, is terrified of what it means once I do.
Could I love someone again? Would anyone ever compare to the woman I lost? And while I already know the answer to that question, I also can’t deny the tremor of excitement I get every single time I look at Peyton.
I have caught myself thinking about her several times since that night atPulsations. Even though our interaction was short, and I was a complete asshole to her, I knew there was something there.
The limo hits a massive pothole, jarring everyone in the car and sending Peyton into my side. She grips my leg to steady herself, both of our gazes falling to where the contact is being made.
Okay, Fin. Message received.
