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I laugh and nod. “Me too.”
I wrap my hand around the top of one foot and massage it a bit.
I yawn as my body relaxes into the chair. As much fun as I’m having, I can’t wait to take off the shoes and dress and wear something more comfortable.
“We’ll go soon,” Tristan leans in and tells me.
“No rush.” I smile.
Once the reception is over and we’ve watched Hope and Toby drive off, Tristan places his hand on the small of my back.
“Ready?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“You’re heading to the inn, too, right?” Tristan asks Hudson.
“Yeah. Let’s have breakfast tomorrow before heading back to town,” Hudson tells us.
Tristan and I both nod.
The short drive to the inn is quiet. Tension fills the car, and my hands tremble. After the kiss, it feels odd to be sharing a room with Tristan. I still trust him, but I’m nervous.
We walk up to our room, crossing Lex and Hudson in the hall, who smile and say good night. I’m too nervous to say anything, so I just smile.
We enter the room, and the door closes with an echo. It’s probably all in my head. Staring at each other, the bedroom seeming smaller than before, the tension rises. I fold my shawl to give myself something to do.
“I—“
“You—“
We both speak at the same time. Laughing, I lift my hand for him to continue, but Tristan shakes his head.
“Go ahead.”
“I’m going to the bathroom to change and get ready for bed.”
“It’s all yours,” he says.
I grab my bag, taking it with me into the bathroom. I feel terrible letting Tristan sleep on that small couch. I’d fit better than him.
In the bathroom, my reflection stares back at me. I search my eyes, taking a deep breath. A smile tugs at my lips. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way. It’s scary, considering people in college turned their backs on me once I was diagnosed with lupus.
Not Tristan, though. Surprisingly, he hasn’t run scared or annoyed. He doesn’t give me an attitude because I don’t drink. When I had my flare-up, he was by my side. But all this comes with a heavy weight. He’s got bigger dreams than Hartville, and I can’t just shake that away.
My heart won’t survive this heartbreak.
Getting changed and ready for bed, I shake off the negative thoughts. I walk out of the bathroom and freeze, eyes wide. Tristan stands a few feet away, shirtless.
Goodness gracious.
The man has muscles for days. His six-pack greets me. Defined pecs and arms show off his muscles. Smooth skin peppered with hair and a body that is proof of the manual labor he’s done.
I was wrong when I thought he was like Captain America. Tristan just beat him out of his number one spot.
My mouth goes dry, and I try to peel my eyes away from him. When he sees me, he pauses.
“Sorry,” he grabs his shirt and hastily throws it on, covering up the beautiful artwork that is his chest.
