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“Her fucking loss.” Like seriously, fuck that bitch. I’d never had any time for Jane Munro and my opinion had deteriorated even further with all this wedding control bullshit.
“Yeah, it is.”
“You sound pretty okay about it.”
Zara’s eyes followed Matt, dancing with his little twin nieces. A soft, dreamy smile curved her lips. “You know what? I am. Everything I need is right here.”
“I love that for you.” I suddenly had to swallow around a lump in my throat.
“Thanks.” She took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Your time’ll come.”
I snorted. “Nah.”
She turned concern-filled eyes on me. In a fit of weakness, I’d told her my dirty little secret, so she knew full well why there was no way I was ever getting married. “Sorry,” she said, her voice low.
“It’s fine. I’m fine!” I didn’t look or sound fine, judging by the sadness that still clouded Zara’s eyes, so I jutted out my chin. “Honestly!”
Before she could say anything else, Lucy’s husband Dante walked over. “Can I steal my beautiful wife away for a dance?”
“I wish you would,” Lucy replied, putting her hands in his so he could help pull her to her feet. “Oof.”
“You okay?” Dante immediately frowned in concern.
“Yeah, just a kick in the ribs. And the kidney.” She winced again. “And, yep, there’s the bladder.”
He put his hand on her belly, rubbing affectionately. “Future football player for sure.”
“You’d better mean American football.”
“You know I don’t.”
“He means soccer,” she said to us over her shoulder, rolling her eyes as he led her to the dance floor. The look of adoration on her face when he pulled her onto the dance floor was indescribable.
“Those two,” I sighed.
“So cute,” Zara agreed. “From fake marriage to true love. Who’d have thought?”
“Right?”
“May I have a dance with the bride?”
I turned to see Bruce Cooper, Matt’s dad, standing behind us, his blue eyes twinkling at Zara.
“That would be wonderful.”
“You don’t mind?” he asked me.
“Not at all. Go ahead.”
They went, which left me sitting by myself. I’d been single for a very long time, casual hookups notwithstanding, and was usually more than fine with it. But right now, not gonna lie, I felt a bit like a loser.
“Ally!” Matt’s twin nieces, Chloe and Mila, ran up to me, looking adorable in their white flower girl dresses with dark purple ribbons around their waists and in their hair.
“Hi, girls! You know what?”
“What?” Chloe asked.
“You look like six-year-olds. Maybe evenseven-year-olds!”
