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Hyla squeezes my hand, drawing my attention back to her.
This song makes me think of her. Our connection. The ways we’ve let each other go and the ways we’ve held on.
“Dance with me?” I whisper.
She nods, and we walk out to the floor. Surrounded by people making small talk or wandering around, we dance.
I slip my hand up her back, playing with her long blonde strands. She stares into my eyes, all veils dropped. Hyla used to be shrouded behind curtains and veils. Brick walls. Keeping herself away from everyone else—as much a protection for them as her. Now it’s all see through. Every emotion and all her vulnerability shimmering in her whiskey eyes.
She brushes her fingers over my cheek as she guides our movements.
Neither of us says a word. We’re totally absorbed in each other, our eyes locked and our bodies shifting closer, inch by inch.
I rest my head against hers, overwhelmed with the intensity of this moment—my feelings for her, the possibility of what could be.
“Kenz,” she whispers.
Then we’re crashing together, mouths slanting over each other’s. It’s a mess of twisted tongues, teasing and sucking, fingers fisted in each other’s hair, bodies flush. We’re one. Messy and tangled, unsure and certain all at once. The same way we’ve always been.
She tastes as good as she feels. Sweet and tantalizing, drawing me in. She moans happily into my mouth and I fight back a whimper. My nipples push against the lacy fabric of my bra, my blood running hot. I’m desperate for her.
The loud thrum of base jolts us from the moment. Gasping, we pull apart, staring at each other in a haze of disbelief.
“Well, that’s one way to get over the hump,” Hyla says with a smirk.
I laugh and shake my head. “We’re not over the hump yet.”
Her cheeks get a touch rosier, and she grins at me. “Yet. Come on.” Hyla grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers, and yanks me toward the bar, both of us smiling the whole way.
Miles
I can’t keep my hands off my wife. My wife. Fuck, I love calling her that. I have a wife and a daughter and a life well beyond my wildest dreams. I’m not sure if sixteen-year-old me would’ve believed it. Hell, I’m not sure the version of myself I was right before I met Amelia would believe it, but I know with certainty it’s right.
She’s sitting on my lap as my dad finishes a toast. I graze my fingers up and down her thigh, loving the slit in her dress, as she twirls her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck.
She’s permanently smiling today, and I love that too. I’ve seen so many versions of my girl, and I love them all, but seeing her joyful like this sets me on fire. She’s come so far, and I hope I have too. I always want to be my best for her and Emmie.
As my dad ends his speech, we all clap, and he returns to his seat next to my mom.
We’ve already shared our first dance, and I danced with my mom while she cried. We had our meal—chicken parm, fried rice, and gnocchi mac and cheese. Our caterer was great and even used my mom’s recipe for the fried rice.
“Ready to be roasted?” Dani says with a mischievous smile, as she, Rae, and Aaron stand in front of us. I’m sure more of them will join in to give me the roasting of the century.
“You’re really going to pick on me?” Amelia asks in mock offense. “I was nice to you at your wedding. Olivia was the one who spared no joke at your expense.”
“That’s true.” Dani turns and looks into the crowd of tables behind us. “Maybe I should get her up here.”
“Fine, I’ll accept your teasing,” Amelia says. Then she smacks Dani’s butt. “Go on. Have your fun.”
Laughing, the three of them head toward the DJ, who hands over a microphone.
Dani takes it and looks out at everyone.
“Hello! My name is Dani. I’m the best friend of the bride.”
There’s a boo from somewhere behind us, and I’m assuming it’s Olivia, who always teased Amelia and Dani that Dani did not need a best friend when she has Olivia.
“Shut up, Livvie!” Dani yells at her sister before continuing. “Anyway, I am Amelia’s BFF, and I have been for two and a half years now. In that time, I’ve watched her be a commanding boss bitch, a wise advice giver, a kind friend, a worthy partner in verbal sparring, and a closet romantic. But then everything changed, and I got to see her vulnerability. I saw her hurt and her pain and the struggles I wish I could’ve taken from her, because she doesn’t deserve them. I teased her that I was going to come up here and roast her, but the truth is I can’t. I love your sass and your big heart, but most of all, I love the woman I’ve seen you become. The mother you’ve grown into. Fierce, protective, and deeply loving while still having fun—it’s the same way you are as a friend, and now as a wife.
