After Ever Happy (After #4) (53 page)

“She’s happy now; not completely, but mostly.”

Her happiness is the most important thing, and not just to me; the world simply isn’t the same when Tessa Young isn’t happy. I would know, I spent an entire year draining the life from her while simultaneously making her shine. It’s fucked-up and makes no sense to the outside world, but I have never, and will never, give a shit about the outside world when it comes to that woman.

“Five minutes, guys,” Ken’s voice sounds from the other side of the door. This room is small and smells like old leather and mothballs, but this is Landon’s wedding day. I’ll wait until after the reception to complain about it.

Maybe I’ll just take my complaints straight to Ken. I suspect he’s the one paying for this shit anyway, given the state of the bride’s parents and all.

“You ready, you crazy bastard?” I ask Landon one last time.

“No, but I will be when I see her.”

W
here’s Robert?” Karen looks around the small wedding party. “Tessa? Do you know where he ran off to?” she asks, panic in her voice.

Robert had taken on the task of entertaining the toddler while the women were getting their hair curled and faces painted on. Now that the wedding is starting, he’s taken his role back on, but he’s nowhere to be found, and Karen can’t hold Abby while helping with the first part of the wedding.

“Let me call him again.” I glance around the crowd, searching for him. Abby thrashes in Karen’s arms, and she looks panicked once again.

“Oh, wait! There he is . . .”

But I don’t hear the rest of Karen’s sentence. I’m completely distracted by the sound of Hardin’s voice. He’s walking out from the long hallway to my left, his mouth moving in that slow way it always has, as he talks to Landon.

His hair is longer than it looked in the pictures I’ve seen of him recently. I can’t help that I’ve been reading every single one of his interviews, every article about him, whether it’s true or false, and maybe, just maybe, I’ve emailed a few heated complaints to bloggers who have printed terrible things about him and his story. Our story.

The sight of the metal ring in his lip surprises me, even though I knew it had reappeared. I had forgotten how good it looks on him in person. I’m taken, absolutely consumed, by seeing him again, thrown back into a world where I fought hard in and lost nearly every battle that was thrown my way, only to leave without the one thing that I was fighting for: him.

“We need someone to walk with Tessa; her boyfriend didn’t show up,” someone says. At the mention of my name, Hardin’s focus snaps forward; his eyes search for half a second before he finds me. I break the connection first, looking down at my high heels barely peeking out from underneath my floor-length dress.

“Who’s walking with the maid of honor?” the bride’s sister asks everyone nearby. “There’s too much going on,” she says with a huff as she walks past me. I’ve done more than she has for this wedding, but her stress level would make you believe otherwise.

“I am,” Hardin says, raising his hand.

He looks so put together, so devastatingly handsome in a black tuxedo with no tie. Black ink shows just above the clean white collar, and I feel a soft touch on my arm. I blink a few times, trying not to focus on the way we barely spoke last night and how we didn’t practice walking together like we should have. I nod, clearing my throat and tearing my eyes away from Hardin.

“All right, then, let’s go,” the sister says imperiously. “Groom to the altar, please.” She claps her hands and Landon rushes past, gently squeezing my hand en route.

Breathe in. Breathe out. It’s only for a few minutes, less than that really. It’s not that difficult of a concept. We are friends. I can do this.

For Landon’s wedding, of course. Momentarily, I battle within myself to not think about walking down the aisle with him for our own special day.

Hardin stands next to me without a word, and the music begins. He’s staring at me—I know that he is—but I can’t bring myself to glance up at him. With these shoes, I’m near his height, and he’s standing so closely that I can smell the soft cologne clinging to his tux.

The small church has been transformed into a beautiful yet simple venue, and the guests have quietly filled almost every row. Beautiful flowers, so brightly colored that they may as well be neon, cover the old wooden pews, and white cloth is draped from row to row.

“It’s a little too bright, don’t you think? I think simple red and white lilies would have done the trick,” Hardin surprises me by saying. His arm loops through mine as the snooty sister waves for the two of us to begin our descent down the aisle.

“Yeah, lilies would have been gorgeous. This is nice, too, for them,” I fumble.

“Your doctor boyfriend cleans up nicely,” Hardin taunts me. I look over to find him smiling, only teasing behind his green eyes. His jawline is even more defined than before, and his eyes are deeper, not as guarded as they always were.

“He’s in med school, not a doctor yet. And yes, he cleans up nicely. You know he’s not my boyfriend, so hush.” Over the last two years I have had this same conversation with Hardin again and again. Robert has been a constant friend in my life, nothing more. We tried dating once, about a year after I found Hardin’s manuscript in my New York apartment, but it just didn’t work. You shouldn’t date someone if your heart is owned by someone else. It doesn’t work, trust me.

“How are you two? It’s been a year now, hasn’t it?” His voice betrays the emotion he’s trying to hide.

“What about you? You and that blonde. What was her name?” This aisle is a lot longer to walk down than it looked from the hallway. “Oh, yeah, Eliza or something?”

He chuckles. “Ha-ha.”

I like to give him shit about a fan-turned-stalker of his named Eliza. I know he hasn’t slept with her, but it’s fun to tease him when I see him.

“Baby, the last blonde I had in my bed was you.” He smiles. My feet catch, and Hardin grips my elbow, steadying me before I fall face-first onto the white silk covering the aisle.

“Is that so?”

“Yep.” He keeps his eyes toward the front of the church where Landon stands.

“You put your lip ring back in.” I change the subject before I embarrass myself further. We walk past my mother, sitting quietly next to her husband, David. She looks slightly worried, but I give her credit when she smiles at Hardin and me when we pass. David leans into her, whispering something, and she smiles again, nodding to him.

“She seems much happier now,” Hardin whispers. We probably shouldn’t be talking as we walk down the aisle, but Hardin and I are known for doing things that we shouldn’t do.

I’ve missed him more than I’m letting on. I’ve only seen him six times in the last two years, and each time only made me ache for him more.

“She is. David has been an incredible influence on her.”

“I know, she told me.”

I stop again. This time Hardin smiles while helping me continue down the never-ending aisle. “What do you mean?”

“Your mum, I’ve spoken to her a few times. You know that.”

I have no clue what he’s talking about.

“She came to a signing last month, when my second book came out.”

What?
“What did she say?” My voice is too loud, and a few guests stare at us for much too long.

“We will talk after this. I promised Landon that I wouldn’t ruin his wedding.”

Hardin smiles at me as we reach the altar, and I try, I really do try, to focus on my best friend’s wedding.

But I can’t keep my eyes or mind off the best man.

T
he reception of a wedding is its most tolerable part. Everyone is a little less uptight and easily loosened up by a few glasses of free booze and an overpriced complimentary meal.

The wedding was flawless: the groom cried more than the bride, and I am proud of myself for only staring at Tessa ninety-nine percent of the time. I heard some of the vows, I swear I did. That’s about it, though. Judging by the way Landon’s arms are wrapped around his new wife’s waist and the way she’s laughing at something he’s saying as they dance across the floor in front of everyone, I would say the wedding went well.

“I’ll take a club soda, if you have it,” I tell the woman behind the bar.

“With vodka or gin?” she asks, pointing to the row of bottles of liquor.

“Neither, just the soda. No liquor.”

She stares at me for a moment before nodding and filling a clear glass with ice and soda.

“There you are,” a familiar voice says as a hand touches my shoulder. Vance is behind me, his pregnant wife next to him.

“Been looking for me, have you?” I sarcastically remark.

“He has not.” Kimberly smiles, her hand resting on her giant belly.

“You okay? You look like you’re going to fall over with that thing.” I look down at her swollen feet, then back up to her sour expression.

“That thing is my baby in there. I’m nine months pregnant, but I
will
still slap you.”

Well, guess her sass is still intact.

“If you can reach past that stomach of yours, of course,” I tease.

She proves me wrong: sure enough, I’m slapped by a pregnant woman at a wedding.

I rub my arm as if she actually hurt me, and she laughs when Vance calls me an asshole for goading his wife.

“You looked nice walking down the aisle with Tessa,” he says, raising a suggestive brow.

My breath catches, and I clear my throat, searching the dark room for her long blond hair and that sinful satin dress. “Yeah, I wasn’t going to be doing any wedding-party shit outside of being Landon’s best man, but it wasn’t so bad.”

“That other guy’s here now,” Kim says knowingly. “But he’s not actually her boyfriend. You didn’t buy that crap, did you? She spends time with him, but you can tell by the way they act that it’s nothing serious. Not like you two are.”

“Were.”

Kim grins at me, a cunning look, and nods her head to direct me to the table closest to the bar. Tessa is sitting there, silky dress shining under the moving lights. Her eyes are on me, or maybe Kimberly. No, her eyes are on me, and she quickly looks away.

“See, like I said, you two
are.”
Smug and pregnant, Kimberly laughs at my expense, and I down my club soda and toss the cup in the trash before ordering a water. My stomach is twisting and turning, and I’m acting like a little fucking child right now, trying not to stare at the beautiful girl who stole my heart all those years ago.

She didn’t just steal the damned thing. She found it; she was the one to discover that I even had a heart to begin with, and she dug it out. Struggle after struggle, she never gave up. She found my heart, and she kept it safe. She hid it from the fucked-up world. Most important, she hid it from me, until I was ready to care for it myself. She tried to give it back two years ago, but my heart refused to leave her side. It will never, ever leave her side.

“You two are the most stubborn people I’ve ever met,” Vance says while ordering a water for Kimberly and a glass of wine for himself. “Have you seen your brother?”

I look around the room for Smith and find him sitting a few tables down from Tessa, alone. I point to the boy, and Vance asks me to find out if he wants something to drink. The kid’s old enough to get his own damn drink, but I would rather not sit and talk to Smug and Smugger, so I walk over to the empty table and take a seat next to my little brother.

“You were right,” Smith says, looking over at me.

“About what, this time?” I lean back against the decorated chair and wonder just how Landon and Tessa can justify calling this wedding “small and simple” when they have some curtainlike shit covering each and every chair in the damn place.

“About weddings being boring.” Smith smiles. He’s missing a few teeth, one of them a front tooth. He’s sort of adorable for a brainiac kid who doesn’t care for most people.

“I should have made you bet money.” I laugh, settling my gaze on Tessa again.

Smith looks at her, too. “She looks pretty today.”

“I’ve been warning you off of her for years now, kid; don’t make me cause a funeral at a wedding.” I gently hit his shoulder, and he smiles a crooked and gap-toothed smile.

I want to walk over to her table and push her nearly-a-doctor friend out of his chair so I can sit next to her. I want to tell her how beautiful she looks and how proud I am of her that she has been excelling at NYU. I want to watch her get past her nerves, and I want to hear her laugh and watch her smile take over the entire room.

I lean toward Smith. “Do me a favor.”

“What kind of favor?”

“I need you to go up and start talking to Tessa.”

He flushes, shaking his head rapidly. “No way.”

“Come on. Just do it.”

“Nope.”

Stubborn child.

“You know that customized train you wanted that your dad won’t get for you?”

“Yeah?” His interest is piqued.

“I’ll buy it for you.”

“You’re bribing me to talk to her?”

“Damn right I am.”

The kid gives me a side glance. “When will you buy it?”

“If you get her to dance with you, I’ll buy it next week.”

He negotiates. “No, for dancing it has to be tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Damn, he’s too good at this.

He looks toward Tessa’s table, then back to me. “Deal,” he agrees while standing up. Well, that was easy.

I watch as he walks over to her. Her smile for him, even from two tables away, knocks the breath straight from my lungs. I give him about thirty seconds before I stand and make my way to the table. I ignore the guy sitting next to her and find joy in the way her face lights up as I stand next to Smith.

“There you are.” I rest my hands on the boy’s shoulders.

“Will you dance with me, Tessa?” my little brother asks.

She’s surprised. Her cheeks glow in embarrassment under the lighting, but I know her, and I know she won’t turn him down.

“Of course.” She smiles at Smith, and what’s-his-name stands and helps her to her feet. Polite bastard.