Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68055 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 340(@200wpm)___ 272(@250wpm)___ 227(@300wpm)
She must feel my eyes on her, because she turns her head to me and the mask goes right up. Her eyes are still glassy. She can’t hide that.
“You okay?” I mouth the question to her.
She nods back and gives me a tight smile. I don’t have time to ask her anything else. The wedding’s in full swing with the delicate version of the wedding march from the acoustic guitar.
I stand straight and look forward, watching as my father gives Ali away and Michael steps forward. With both hands still clasped in front of me, I get another view of Grace and the sweet facade is back, but I can’t forget what I saw.
A tear slips down her cheek and she wipes it quickly, playing it off as if it’s the wedding and emotional tears of joy.
But I know better. She may say she’s okay. She may play it off.
But I know Grace.
And she’s not okay. All I can think is: what the hell did I do and how do I make this right? Right fucking now.
Grace
The bar is the best place to be at wedding receptions, and I have no intention of leaving it if I can help it. It’s in the back of the ballroom, and the lights have been turned down. The music has gone from upbeat party music to sexy slow jams.
I look down at my glass only to find it empty. Again.
All right, maybe I’m a little tipsy. Whoever made the punch wasn’t screwing around.
It’s been a busy day of meeting people left and right and having to play the part of Charlie’s girlfriend. There hasn’t been a moment when the two of us have been alone but for the past hour, I’ve been here, avoiding any contact and trying to convince myself that I’m not a bad person. I didn’t want to hurt anyone so it’s not wrong, right? It’s not bad of me to be in this wedding when I know I’m out of the picture probably hours from now. Wiping a tear from under my eyes before anyone can catch on, I sniffle and pull my shit together. That’s when I look up and see Charlie heading my way. Not just my way; he’s making a beeline for me.
I take a moment to soak in his large frame, the way his muscles bunch under his white dress shirt as he moves and breathe in deep, calming myself. When he draws closer, I appreciate the clean line of his jaw, the intense green of his eyes.
“Dance with me,” he doesn’t mince words, giving me a charming smile.
I give him half a smile back. “You know I’ve got two left feet, right?” The last thing I want to do right now is dance.
“Just come with me.” My heart clenches as he puts his hand out, and I can’t help but to slip my hand into his. How could I ever say no to him?
He squeezes my hand, dragging me out to the dance floor. I hate myself for it, but a feeling of intense completion runs through me when his hand wraps around mine. A chill runs down my spine as he turns me, and takes me in his arms; my breath hitching as my boot heels click on the dance floor. My heart is beating faster now.
We start to move to the slow, sultry rhythm. He surprises me, because he’s light on his feet. My arms around his neck feel hot, and I wonder if he notices. Or if it’s just me.
“I didn’t know you could dance,” I say.
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
He looks down at me, and I struggle not to drown in the moss green of his eyes.
“Yeah?” I say, to distract myself.
“Mmmhm,” he murmurs.
I lean into him a little and I hate that I’m doing it, but it’s a memory I get to keep. The heat of his body, his hard chest and masculine smell. I take it all in, closing my eyes and letting out a small sigh.
“Charlie?” I whisper against his chest.
“Yeah?” I feel the rumble of his answer against my cheek.
“Why are you still single?” I ask, our bodies still swaying to the gentle music. “I’ve seen the type of girls that hang on you. It doesn’t make any sense that you haven’t picked one of them to date by now.”
He’s silent for a long time, long enough to make me open my eyes. I stare up at him, hoping I don’t look as enraptured as I feel.
This right here, this foolish feeling, is why I’ve been avoiding him all night. I feel like I need to hold on to him, but I know I can’t.
“Are you going to answer?” I ask.
He smiles, but it’s forced. “Yeah. I just… it’s complicated, you know?”
“So make it simple. Simple enough for me to understand, anyway. I had a few glasses of that punch.” I try to lighten up the conversation, but his expression doesn’t change.