I chuckle and lean the side of my head against his forehead. I hear the words he’s saying and know the only reason I’m on the island, the only reason I was able to walk in here with such confidence, is because of the time we’ve spent together prior to this moment.
“I couldn’t have done it without you. Thank you.”
“I disagree. You’ve been doing it without me for a long time.”
There’s a pang of guilt attached to his words. A reminder of what it’s like when he’s not around. But this time there is no anger, no resentment over the past. He came back for me but then walked away when he knew he would just end up hurting me more.
Our eyes hold. The room buzzes around us and yet when he leans forward and presses his lips to mine, I zone everyone else out. The incomplete comments I heard walking to the restroom after the ceremony earlier, words like disgrace and homewrecker and trash, evaporate from my mind. It’s just Hayes’s lips on mine and the comfort, warmth, and calm they bring.
The kiss ends but so does the angst I was feeling. Once again, Hayes has calmed me. And when I open my eyes and look over his shoulder, I freeze when I meet Mitch’s gaze.
He’s standing off to the far end of the banquet room, if you can call it that. The reception is being held in a round room with half the room enclosed like a normal hall while the other is an open-aired covered patio that overlooks the ocean beyond. He’s standing where the open-air portion meets the walled portion, sneaking a peek at the reception before the DJ announces the wedding party.
The connection causes my breath to burn in my lungs and words to escape me, and yet I can’t look away from Mitch. His gaze shows hurt. Reflects anger. But there’s something else there . . . wounded pride or possibly longing?
I reject the thought immediately. Hate that I’d think so much of myself to believe Mitch just married Sarah—like minutes ago—and is standing there taking a glimpse of his reception while the camera woman is snapping shots of his new bride behind him . . . and is wishing it were me.
“He still loves you.”
Hayes’s murmur startles me and yet I don’t move. Don’t want to process the thought. Just want to pretend like I didn’t just see it too.
I break my gaze from Mitch and look to Hayes with a forced smile on my face. My stomach churns over how horrible it would be to be Sarah if she just saw that exchange between us. Because while seeing him scrapes up the melancholy I should have felt over our break up, the affection he possibly feels for me isn’t reciprocated.
Not like how I feel when I look at Hayes. My smile is always genuine and the emotion I feel is real. Not forced. “No, he doesn’t.” Something fleets through Hayes’s eyes. I want to say disbelief or relief—either of them causes parts of me to stand to attention and wonder why they are there. But before I can ask, the DJ taps the mic to get everyone’s attention.
And while the wedding party is introduced, while the cheers go up and the music pumps through the speakers, and as Mitch and Sarah immediately take to the dance floor for their first dance, I can’t help but wonder exactly how I feel.
The moment I traveled all this way for is finally here, and yet everything I came here to prove doesn’t seem to feel so relevant anymore. The meal unfolds, the typical wedding events transpire, and the whole time I’m preoccupied with the why behind this change of opinion. My pride? My bakery?
It all comes back to Hayes. He’s the reason for all of this—the resolution of my past. The validation that Mitch wasn’t the right choice for me as a husband. The overwhelming surge of emotions he’s made me feel with his hands and his words when I didn’t realize I could be made to feel that way to begin with. And more than anything the realization that it’s okay to want more in all aspects of my life.
I feel like I’m starting a new chapter in my life. A different one where I have needs and wants and dreams and passion. While I may want to share that with someone in the future, I also know what makes me happy and that’s just as important as making your partner happy.
I watch Mitch and Sarah take their seat at the head table. Hear mutterings of my name followed by the word tramp. I listen to their speeches professing their love to each other.
I have to stop myself from snickering at their lovey-dovey terms. The gentle nudges from Hayes tell me he feels the same way too. Wasn’t it not too long ago that Mitch was professing the same love for me?
A murmur overheard at the table behind me about how I’m a gold digger. How I dumped Mitch and moved right on to Hayes just because he had more fame and fortune.