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Cora says something to Clay, and he chuckles just before he pulls her closer and rests his hand on her lower back. They are dancing, I know this, but jealousy is an evil color, and I am a deep shade of green. With shocking clarity, I realize if she were dancing with Justin and his hands were on her, I would feel nothing. Nothing at all.
Again, I can’t help but think this is terrible.
Eventually, the dance ends, and more people join us as the music kicks up in tempo. Justin takes a step back from me, his hand gliding down my arm to my hand, and he smiles at me.
Oh, Justin.
He studies the look on my face, and his lips fall into a frown. Does he know what I’m thinking? Does he also realize this is no longer working?
Taking my hand, he moves us off the dance floor and back to our table.
“I’m going to go grab another drink, would you like one?” he asks.
“No thanks,” I tell him, voice just barely above a whisper.
I’m standing under a tent at my best friend’s gorgeous wedding, and I’m in mourning. I’m mourning what’s inevitable and mourning the loss of something I never had.
It’s with this thought that a flare of anger again lights low in my stomach. Maybe I was just a one-night stand to him. Maybe it meant nothing to him and the reason he never texted me back was because he was using that moment in New York as his way out, but if that was the case, why didn’t he just tell me? Why ignore me for the last year and make me feel like I’m a pariah or something?
As if he knows I’m watching him, his gaze slides across the room, briefly stops on me, and then keeps going to Ash. The guy he’s standing next to says something, and Clay turns his attention back and laughs. God, I love his laugh. Even though I can’t hear it from here, I swear I can feel it. His whole face lights up, and that flare morphs into flames. All around me there is noise, but right this second the only thing I can hear is the beating of my heart as it pounds throughout my body. The world is spinning around us like a hurricane, people jumping, cheering, kissing, laughing, but all I can see and feel is him, disappointment, and anger.
6
CLAY
Everything about Ash and Avery’s wedding has gone seamlessly, from the vendors to the guests all arriving without problems, the wedding, and even my speech—well, song. Then again, I should have known it would given how crazy their wedding coordinator is. As a guy who knows nothing about throwing a party, even I can tell the details are perfect. The food is delicious, especially the cake, and everyone is having a wonderful time.
Everyone except for maybe Emma. She looks miserable, not that I’ve been looking. It’s just hard not to notice her when she is literally the most beautiful person in the room.
Don’t get me wrong, she’s played her part of being the doting bridesmaid, but it’s the in-between moments when you can see she’s struggling. There’s something going on in her head, and her eyes have taken on this strained look. Why I’m bothering to notice these things? No idea. And the few times I’ve glanced at the guy, he doesn’t even seem to notice much about her at all. It’s strange. Clearly the two of them are together, yet it feels like they aren’t at the same time. They seem more like friendly acquaintances than a couple that’s been dating for at least this past year.
Whatever. That’s their problem, not mine.
“So how long are y’all staying in Horizons Valley?” I ask Stokes Whitlock and his wife Rosie. They are friends of ours from Louisville. Stokes owns one of the largest thoroughbred farms in the state, and Rosie owns a Derby hat shop downtown. She also takes custom orders for couture gowns, and she designed Avery’s wedding dress. In fact, she’s designed several dresses for her, so Louisville and their farm is a place we visit frequently. Who am I to pass on great company and great bourbon?
“We’re staying through the rest of this week up at the resort. It’s nice to be in the mountains and we’re going to do some hiking, hit up the breweries and vineyards, and enjoy this fall weather,” he says.
They’re going to love it. This fall has been unseasonably dry, so the leaves are still on the trees and the air is crisp and not damp.
“Stokes here thinks he’s in better shape than me and will last longer on the trails. I’ve told him there’s no way. I see how little he works out, and doing sit-ups and lifting at-home weights isn’t going to cut it.”
“Me?” He points to himself. “You don’t work out at all.” He smirks at her, but there’s clear admiration shining through.
“It doesn’t matter. I’m on my feet all day long, so I’ve got better stamina than you.”
His smirk shifts to more of an intimate smile as he stares at her. “Better stamina than me, huh?” he asks, and her cheeks flush red.
These two are always bantering back and forth, and I love it. She keeps Stokes on his toes, and the poor guy needs it. He’s always so serious.
“You know what I mean!” She smacks him in the stomach with the back of her hand, and he chuckles.
Shaking my head, I tell them, “Well, if you need recommendations for trails, just let me know. From easy to difficult, I got you.”
“That’s great. Thanks,” Stokes says while wrapping his arm around Rosie and pulling her close. She’s wearing dark green with some sort of headband flower thing in her hair, and in heels she comes up to his chin. Emma in heels barely hits my shoulder, and just as I have the thought, it’s like I summoned her.
“Hi, Emma,” Rosie says, a smile stretching across her face.
At the sound of her name, the muscles in my body go tense, starting at my toes and climbing up through my shoulders.
