Sometime between now and then, I had to prepare myself to face Cole. Walk down the aisle with him. Dance in his arms.

I sank down on a white sofa and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee Blair handed me. “Thanks.”

“What’s the matter?” she asked, sitting opposite me with her legs tucked beneath her. She wore a white fleece robe that had the Cloverleigh Farms insignia on it, and her hair was loose around her shoulders. Even with her face bare of makeup, she looked radiant—like a bride should.

“I feel like such a shitty friend for doing this to you on your wedding day,” I told her. “Part of me wants to lie and tell you everything is fine.”

“I wouldn’t believe you anyway,” she said. “You look like you cried yourself to sleep, if you slept at all.”

“Accurate,” I admitted, taking a sip.

“So talk. We have at least forty-five minutes before the rest of the gang arrives.”

I told her what had happened, watching her expressions run the gamut from surprised to angry to sad to impressed to sympathetic. “Oh, honey,” she said, learning forward to hug me.

“Oh God, don’t make me spill coffee on this white couch,” I said, setting the cup down on the glass coffee table.

“You poor thing.” Blair sat back again. “I can’t believe you walked away.”

“I had to,” I said, spying a box of tissues across the room and getting up to retrieve one. “All of a sudden, it hit me that we weren’t on the same page. I was doing it because I’m in love with him, and he was doing it because it would be fun. But fun can be had with anyone, you know? I was afraid it wouldn’t mean anything to him, and it was going to mean everything to me.” I groaned, snatching a couple tissues from the box. “God, that sounds so juvenile and stupid.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Blair said. “It sounds mature and self-aware. Of course jumping into bed with Cole would be fun, but you know that it probably would have made it harder to deal with the fact that you want something he can’t give.”

“Right,” I said, blowing my nose. “But that’s nothing new. I just wish I hadn’t told him so much, you know? Like why couldn’t I have just pretended like I’d changed my mind about sex and walked out? Now he knows how I feel.”

“Maybe it’s better he knows,” Blair said hopefully. “Maybe he just needs time to process it.”

“No. The more he thinks about it, the more pathetic I’m going to look. I told him I loved him, Blair.” I tossed the tissues out and studied my blotchy face in one of the white-framed mirrors. “Ugh. Can I wear a paper bag over my face today?”

“No,” Blair said, getting off the couch and coming over to where I stood. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders from behind and met my eyes in the mirror. “You are beautiful, and you’ve got no reason to hide. I’m so proud of you for standing up for your heart. I love Cole and I know he’s a good guy, but he doesn’t deserve you if he’s not willing to give a little.”

“I don’t even know what to ask him to give,” I said, trying so hard not to cry, my nose burned. “He’s not lying about how tough it is for him to take on a relationship as a single dad.”

“Plenty of single dads have relationships.”

“But his situation is different, and Mariah is special, and he’s made promises to her and to himself that he can’t break, not even for me.” I squeezed my eyes shut against the tears. “Why would I even expect him to?”

“Because you’re worth it,” Blair said softly, giving me a squeeze. “And something tells me he knows that, and it’s only a matter of time before he comes to his senses.”

I smiled and hugged her arms. “Thank you. Spoken like a true sister. Now what do you say we forget about all my romantic troubles and focus on the fact that you and my brother are getting married today?”

She squealed. “Yes, sister!”

I laughed, feeling better. I might not have romance, but I had love in my life.

Today, I’d celebrate that.

Thirteen

Cole

I’d fucked up, and I knew it.

But it was hard to pinpoint exactly where I’d gone wrong. Was I trying to be someone else? Was it Moretti’s advice? Was I trying to have my cake and eat it too, getting Cheyenne in bed while maintaining our just friends status?

After staying up half the night thinking about it, I came to the conclusion that the truth was probably all of the above.

I could admit to myself that a lot of it was me trying to be someone else—someone more like Moretti, who enjoyed acting on his impulses and always managed to have a good time and keep things light. Take a girl back to her hotel room, have some fun, say goodnight. No lies, no promises, no problems.

But I wasn’t Moretti, I thought as I got out of bed and into the shower. And while taking his advice to let go and have fun had made me feel young and alive, pumped full of testosterone and adrenaline, it hadn’t turned out the way I’d hoped.

Because with Cheyenne, there was no way to keep things light. We’d known each other too long. I felt too much for her.

And she loved me—at least, she’d said she did. It had knocked me out the way she’d confessed it. I’ve loved you hopelessly for so long . . . I’d been shocked. She’d hinted at a childhood crush before, but this felt like something different. Something deeper. Something stronger and yet more fragile.

Spending the night with me would give her hope, she’d said, her eyes full of tears, but her smile a little sheepish, as if she were embarrassed that being so close to me would mean so much to her. My chest had felt like it was caving in.

I’d wanted nothing more than to pull her back into bed, put my arms around her, and show her it would mean everything to me too. That I wouldn’t take it lightly. That I’d never hurt her. That I’d guard her heart as fiercely as she would.

Stay with me, I wished I could have said. Kiss me. Touch me. Whisper my name, and I’ll whisper yours. Tell me again how you love me. Let me give you hope. Let me give you everything.

But the words had been stuck in my throat.

Instead, I’d fallen back into the rut. Kept the walls in place. I’d let her go and promised to stay away.

It was all I could offer her.

“So how’d it go last night?” Moretti asked. He, Beckett, and I were seated by the fireplace in the lobby with cardboard cups of coffee, waiting for Griffin to come down. Then we’d all head into town for a proper shave at a barber shop. “I didn’t want to say anything in front of Griff, but I saw you and Cheyenne leave together.”

“I saw that too,” said Beckett from next to me on the couch. “What’s up with you guys?”

I sipped my coffee. “Uh, we left together, but it didn’t exactly go as planned.”

Moretti’s smile faded. “Don’t tell me. You fucked up the line.”

“No, the line was fine the way I delivered it.”

“What was the line?” Beckett wanted to know.

“I just asked her if she wanted to go up to my room.”