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“That’s why you agreed to help her out; you still love her.”
“Never really stopped. But since the past may hinder our future—hurt feelings, etcetera—I doubt I’ll ever get a chance to ask her to marry me for real.”
Head tipped to one side, the man studied me, face rumpled with curiosity, as though he were reading my soul. “Word of advice?”
I offered a clipped nod. “Sure.”
“Harbored feelings and resentment only keep the past alive. But to move on, the past must remain buried.” He cleared his throat. “My father once told me: when life gives you a second chance at love, it’s because you weren’t ready for the first.”
A flight attendant handed us each a bottle of sparkling water, and we both twisted the caps and gulped a few sips.
“Fate,” he continued, “has brought you two back together for a reason.” He bobbed his head matter-of-factly. “Trust me; you’ll get a chance to marry her after all. Just wait and see.”
CHAPTER 10
Giana
* * *
Sofie: Are you on your way??? The tablescapes are SO wrong.
I rolled my eyes. Why did my sister think my job as her maid of honor was to do everything?
We agreed my only responsibility was to plan her bachelorette party and arrange the menu for the rehearsal dinner.
Done and done, thank you very much.
Shelby, her wedding planner, was responsible for the rest.
Me: Shelby should be there to take care of that. See you in ten mins at chapel for rehearsal.
She replied with a thumbs-up emoji, which according to Urban Dictionary, meant F-you.
I had no energy for her bullshit bridezilla tantrums. My stomach was already knotted in coils.
The conversation with Noni about Reed pushed me down a rabbit hole of what-ifs.
What if we landed in bed?
What if I fell back in love with him? Assuming I ever fell out of love with him.
What if he had no interest in me other than doing this good deed?
What if the stupid past shrouded a glimpse into our future?
Doubt was a mean little fucker that pricked your heart with a thousand thorns.
Surprisingly, the rehearsal went off without a hitch, and I prayed the subsequent dinner would go just as smoothly.
But I hadn’t heard from my fake fiancé and refused to get my panties in a bunch about him not replying to my Hi, did you make it? text.
Perhaps he got stuck in traffic, or maybe the plane landed late.
With thirty minutes to spare before the rehearsal dinner, I plodded to my hotel room, faith assuring me Reed would be there.
When I opened the hotel room door, I spotted Reed’s shoes on the floor next to his duffle bag, his phone on the desk plugged into a charger, and from the bathroom, I could hear water splattering around in the shower.
Relief blasted from my lungs. He made it.
