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The opening notes of “Take My Name” start to play, and my stomach sinks.Our wedding song.The last time I heard it, I was on cloud nine, dancing around my living room like it was the most romantic place in the world. Nothing else mattered because I was in his arms. And now, he’s not here to share it with me.
What am I doing?
I shouldn’t be here—not while my marriage is in trouble. He’s not wrong to be upset. If I thought he was intentionally hiding our wedding from people, I would be, too. And the longer I stand here, the worse I could be making it.
“I have to go,” I say in a rush.
But as I turn around to leave, I find Hayes standing there, freshly showered and shaved and wearing a suit that makes him looksofucking good.
“May I have this dance?”
The sound of his voice feels like coming home. He puts his hand out and I take it. There might still be a lot to talk about, but right now, I need to be in his arms like I need to breathe.
“I should’ve told you how beautiful you look before you left,” he murmurs softly into my ear.
I sigh and relax into his arms. “I’m sorry. I should’ve told him. It’s not that I’m ashamed of us or want anyone other than you. I honestly just hadn’t gotten the chance yet, except for when I found out him and Mali were dating, and that threw me for a loop. But I swear on my life, I wasnothiding you. I love being married to you more than anything.”
He tilts my chin up and kisses me. There’s no way to explain the feeling of the relief that rushes through me. And when he pulls away, he stares into my eyes.
“I’m sorry, too,” he says sincerely. “The things I said to you today were uncalled for. I’m not proud of the way I acted the last few days. To be honest, I still don’t fully believe I’m deserving of you, and I let that insecurity get the better of me. But watching you walk out the door today was devastating. I would never forgive myself if I let you get away.”
God, I love this man.
I kiss him again, this time a little slower. “One of these days, I’m going to get you to realize that you have nothing to worry about. I’m yours, H. Always.”
“Just don’t give up on me,” he pleads, his voice laced with vulnerability.
“Never,” I promise. “And you can’t give up on me, either. You’re not the only one who screws up sometimes.”
“Oh, I know,” he says teasingly. “I can only imagine what I’m in for.”
I giggle and my head rests on his chest once more, as we sway to the music. He quietly sings along, and I commit the sound to memory, because there’s nothing better than hearing our wedding song in his voice, knowing he means every word.
I GET OUT OFthe car, slamming the door behind me—only for Hayes to do the same. Everything was fine. We were all having a great time, drinking and laughing. But I had promised to be Cam’s designated driver, so I stayed stone cold sober while Hayes took advantage of the open bar. And the more liquid courage he got, the more of an asshole he became.
“I don’t get what the big fucking deal is,” he argues. “You know I don’t like him.”
I throw my hands in the air as I spin around. “You don’t have to like him, but you don’t have to be an asshole either!”
“I wasn’t an asshole. I just wasn’t playing nice.”
“Hayes, he just wanted a handshake, and you just stared at it and laughed.” He’s not getting it. “It was fucking rude!”
He scoffs. “No, what’s rude is that he wants my fucking wife and knows that I know but acts nice to save face in front of you!”
“Oh my God,” I groan. “Not this shit again. He’s! Dating! Mali!”
“Yeah, so he can stay around you!”
Staring up at the sky, I can’t believe we’re having this argumentagain. We literally just got over this a few hours ago. I’ve experienced my fair share of stubbornness. I grew up with Cam, and damn can he hold a grudge when he wants to. But this is another level.
“You’re delusional.” I tell him. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“Oh, come on,” he growls. “Those two have as much chemistry as Mrs. Garrison and a giraffe.”
His words catch me off guard, and I have to hold back my laugh. The mental images running through my head of the sweet florist are disturbing, yet hilarious. And as I smirk at him, I feel my anger subsiding.
“It’s the tongue, isn’t it?” I tease.
