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ashamed to admit that I spent the twenty-five minutes it took Addy to marry Andrew standing stiffly by her side.

I didn’t hear a single word.

I couldn’t see an inch in front of me.

Every morsel of my mind, body, and soul was consumed by the dark-haired boy from my past.

More, the beautiful redhead’s back his palm rested against as I walked down the aisle before Addy.

The moment I stepped into the room, he was the first person I saw.

I couldn’t take in the hundreds of white roses that filled the church.

I couldn’t hear the hauntingly beautiful sound of the organ as it edged me down the white carpet lined toward the altar.

My eyes set on my best friend—if I can still claim that—unwavering.

A flare of possessiveness overtook him when I caught sight of who he was with. He moved his hand to her back, holding it there protectively.

A claim.

A warning.

My heart, which it had no right to do, died a thousand deaths. In a room overflowing with love, I felt consumed by pain and longing.

We’re now defined by our mistakes. No longer allowed to feel excitement at the prospect of seeing one another. Instead, we’re waiting to stumble together again. The inevitable fall into our recreant and repentant ways. We can fight it. We can push against it, but in truth, we’re addicted to the pain as much as we’re entranced by the so-called love we share.

“Alex seems nice.”

I cough to cover the way I startle at Evelyn’s voice. “Sorry?”

“Alex, that’s his name, right? Your boyfriend.”

Shifting, I edge my hands under my thighs, hiding them away from the way they shake.

“Yeah.” I nod quickly. “Alex.”

“How long have you been dating?”

I hate how hot my cheeks feel. “About a year.”

“Cute. Have you met Brooks’s girlfriend?”

My nostrils flare of their own accord. “No.”

“She’s beautiful,” she comments, her eyes focused on the trees out the window.

“She is,” I whisper.

I’ve managed to avoid him for the first few hours of the evening. Hyper aware of his every movement, I weave away from him every chance I get. He’s at the bar, I’m dancing. He’s dancing, I’m in the bathroom. I refuse to sit, to relax. Afraid if I let my guard down, he’ll catch me.

If he even cares to.

Our last encounter was far from amicable. In fact, it was downright hideous.

“You’ve not stopped moving all night.” Alex grips my waist. “Let me buy you a glass of mediocre champagne.”

I laugh. “How can I say no to that?”

“You don’t.” He leans down to kiss me, his lips cold from his beer as he brushes them against mine. “I love this dress.” He squeezes my ass. “Have I told you that?”

I kiss him again. “Once or twice.”

“I’ll keep reminding you,” he tells me. “Just in case you forget all the nasty things I’d like to do to you while you wear it.”

My thighs clench in the opposite way my heart does. One with heat. One with guilt.

Oblivious to the racing beat of my heart, Alex turns us in the direction of the bar, right into the path of Brooks and his beautiful redhead.

“Squirrel.”

“Brooks,” I stumble out. “Hi.”

Stepping forward, he breaks contact with his girlfriend to pull me into a warm hug. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes into my neck, soft enough that it’s only for my ears.

Pulling back before I’m ready, I strain myself to smile. “Brooks, this is Alex.”

Staring at me for a beat longer than comfortable, Brooks eventually breaks his gaze to look at Alex, whose hand sits outstretched.

“Nice to meet you, man.”

Brooks smiles tightly at Alex’s greeting.

“I’m Henley.” I step forward, offering my hand to the girl standing behind my best friend.

“Grace.” Her slender hand slides into mine, a meek lift of her hand before she pulls it back.

“Did you two go to school together?” Alex asks.

My eyes shut in shame.

“Henley didn’t mention me?”

“Should she have?” Alex glances at me, then back to Brooks again.

“Brooks was, is, was my best friend,” I stutter.

“Is,” Brooks corrects.

Irritated by Brooks’s abruptness, Alex’s shoulders push back. “Funny, I’ve never heard your name mentioned before.”

His hair is shorter on the sides than I’m used to. The length on top is more pronounced, falling along his forehead messily. His light eyes still break at my soul, still lined with the blackest lashes I’ve ever seen.

His teeth bite into his bottom lip. “Henley guards the most important things in her life.”

Grace frowns at him. “Anyway.” She steps forward, her arm sliding through Brooks’s elbow. “Brooks and I were just going to dance. We’ll catch you guys later.”

Brooks doesn’t budge for an awkward second, his eyes set on me in frustration.

I expected animosity and maybe a little detachment, but he’s given me none of that. It’s as if it that night never even happened.

“That guy’s a dick,” Alex comments when Grace manages to pull him away.

“He is not,” I argue.

Stepping up to the bar, Alex moves up next to me. “You’ve never mentioned him.”

I swallow, avoiding eye contact and gesturing to the bartender for two glasses of champagne. “We haven’t spoken in a long time.”

“Hm.” He wants to push it further, but I clink my glass against his, swallowing the entire contents of mine before gesturing for another.

“Dad.” Hand to Carter’s shoulder, Brooks takes my hand from his dad. “I’m gonna have to cut in before you claim my bestie for yourself.”

The thick middle section of Carter Riley shakes as he laughs. The sound robust and easily heard over the soft melody of music filtering across the dance floor.

“Of course.” Carter smiles. “I should go and find my wife before she complains about me dancing with all the pretty ladies before her.” He winks at me conspiratorially.

The warmth of Brooks’s hand slides gently against mine, the long bend of his fingers wrapping around my hand as he pulls my body into his. His free hand fits against my lower back, much like it did earlier when he was dancing with Grace. I wonder if she notices now, her boyfriend's hand pressed possessively

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