I sigh. The weight of this fake relationship with undercurrents of my real feelings is dragging me down. “There’s a lot I don’t know.”
“Next,” says the bartender, shocking us both out of our conversation. I’m grateful to Layla for stepping up to the bar and ordering first, giving me a second to breathe and collect my thoughts.
When Layla steps away with her drink, I step up to the bar.
“I’ll have the house red, please.” The bartender starts to pour me a glass of wine in the small plastic cups they always have at weddings. I check the time on my phone and am bewildered to see that it’s only been twenty minutes. Anotherforty minutes of cocktail hour, then wedding party entrances, then some weddings I’ve been to go right into the first dance before dinner is served. Which means I’m not going to be able to get any clarification from Wyatt for a while.
Realization hits me—this is Henry’s wedding. Wyatt is the best man. It is absolutely not the time or the place to have this conversation. Plus, if Wyatt wanted me to know about the meaning behind the cedar chest, he would have told me himself. But he didn’t because as of today, I have a feeling he is planning on leaving me after the breaking news that came out about Clark—well, leave Houston, to come back to Wisconsin. He made that perfectly clear. He has through this entire fake relationship. It would do me good to remember that that’s all this is. What it has been for him this entire time.
Fake.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
WYATT
Seeing Nash through the crowd felt like being struck by lightning. Or at least what I imagine it might be like. Sudden, scary, thrilling, and painful all in a flash. I tried to concentrate on the ceremony, but the entire time my heart was aching from the strike. I tried my best to keep this fake like Nash needed, to make sure she gets everything, and that I had a chance to get what I desperately wanted to, but the thing about being struck by lightning is nothing is ever the same after.
And the same goes for what we’ve been doing because nothing will ever be the same after this. I looked into Nash’s green eyes, and my instinct was to wink at her. Playing my part as the always teasing friend, but when I got up to that altar, I had another life-changing moment, a second lightning strike. I saw a sliver of what it could look like to stand at the altar on my own wedding day, waiting for Nash and her dad to walk toward me. Waiting for my bride to meet me there and confess her love for me like I was ready to confess my love for her.
When the ceremony was over, and we were shuffled intodifferent positions for pictures, all I wanted to do was get to Nash. Thank God I never had a chance to send my agent that text. Because I realize that I want to see Nash in white. I want to be with her, wherever that is. At this point, if she changed her mind about wanting to go back overseas, I would quit football altogether to follow her. After spending this much time with her, living together, and fake dating, I can’t go back to a life without her being beside me.
I’m going to tell her. Tonight.
Fuck my brother. The wedding ceremony is over, and this is the party. It’s free game.
Standing just outside the double doors to the reception area, I can hear the bass of the music thumping as the DJ hypes everyone up for the entrance. I’m set to enter with Hazel’s sister, the maid of honor.
“What should we do for our entrance?”
“Just follow my lead,” she says as she takes my arm once again.
The huge doors open, there’s a pop song blaring as we start. It sucks that we have to go first, but someone’s gotta do it.
We’ve taken about three steps in, the crowd roaring their applause, when she looks at me. “Go long!”
“What?” I ask, thinking I mistook her over the noise of the music, but she just holds her bouquet up by her shoulders and motions me away from her. Oh my God, she’s going to throw those flowers like a football. I don’t have any better ideas, so this is what we’re doing.
I take off and make it about five steps before she throws it. I don’t know much about her, but she fucking launches that thing. She even leads me in steps, throwing it to where I’m just about to be. An absolute dime.
I catch it and hold the bouquet over my head, cheering like I just scored the game-winning touchdown. She runs up to me and jumps up to chest bump me. She’s so short, I don’t have to jump. If I did, I would have probably knocked her over backward. We celebrate together, and then like nothing happened at all, we calmly collect ourselves and head to the side of the dance floor to await the new Mr. and Mrs.
It feels like forever as we stand and watch them be announced. They dance their way into the middle of the floor, and the DJ cuts it to a slow song. “Please give your attention to the new couple as they have their first dance.”
I watch as my brother and his new wife turn in slow circles to a country song. I’m glad everything went off without a hitch. No one got too drunk, no one was late, no one’s rental pants were too small. It was perfect. All that’s left of my job for today is the speech.
The song ends and everyone claps as we make our way to our seats. I head straight toward Nash and lean down to speak to her, not even bothering to take my seat first. We might have just a few minutes. “Nash, can we go somewhere and talk?”
She opens her mouth to respond when the DJ cuts in over the speakers. “Dinner is ready to be served. If the head table will please stand and go to the buffet line first. After them, someone will come around to your table to let you know when it’s your turn.”
The whole table rises, and we’re swept away toward the food line.
“What did you want to talk about,” Nash asks.
The buffet line waiting for dry chicken or overcooked beef is not where I wanted to have this conversation. “Ummm…I don’t remember. But I’m sure it will come to me later.”
During dinner, we make amicable conversation with theother members of the bridal party as we eat our mashed potatoes.
I try to enjoy my food, but my stomach is all twisted up with nerves. The only order of events I was informed of for the entire night is my speech being right after dinner. I’m in desperate need of a drink, but I have to refrain. I’m going to get up there, I’m going to do my speech, people are going to clap, and then I’m immediately beelining it to the bar.