“It was perfect,” I said softly, the lump refusing to leave my throat.

“Thanks.” He spoke quietly then, only to me. “Think your mom will mind I quoted her?”

I had to laugh as I shook my head. “She might never let you forget it, but she’ll be happy someone was listening.”

“Cole Mitchell, you made me cry!” Blair exclaimed, getting out of her chair to come hug him. “How dare you!”

Griffin came over to shake his hand and give him a back-thumping embrace too, and by the time everyone was settled again, servers were placing dinner on the table. Cole reached for his napkin and spread it on his lap.

That’s when I realized he wasn’t wearing his ring.

I tried not to make too much of it, but it was difficult not to keep stealing glances at his hands throughout the meal. My appetite was almost nonexistent, even though the food was delicious. The wine was good too, but I was careful not to drink too much. I did not want a repeat of last night, and any time I got tipsy, I tended to shed my inhibitions where Cole was concerned.

I stayed quiet, if not silent, during the first three courses, and Cole didn’t say much either. At one point, he got up to go check on Mariah, and Blair leaned over and whispered to me, “Everything okay? You guys both seem kind of down.”

I forced a smile. “All good. Just enjoying dinner.”

She glanced at my beef tenderloin and roasted potatoes. “What dinner? That one right there? The one that’s still on your plate?”

Pressing my lips together, I reached for my water. “This dress is tight. I don’t want to overeat.”

“Cheyenne, you—”

“Shh,” I admonished. “He’s coming back.”

“Bathroom break before cake?”

I nodded. “Fine.”

Once our entrées were cleared, half of mine left uneaten, Blair and I grabbed our small clutches from beneath our chairs and headed for the ladies’ room. I helped her use the bathroom—the ball gown style she’d chosen meant she needed some assistance—and freshened up as we waited a few minutes for the lounge to clear. When it was just the two of us, she turned to me, her expression worried.

“Talk to me. Are you really okay?”

I smiled and lied. “I’m really okay.”

“Because the wedding party dance is coming up, and if you—”

“Blair.” I held up my palms. “I’m fine. I can handle it.”

The tension in her face eased. “Okay. Because we can always switch things up. Frannie can dance with Cole, and you can dance with Moretti.”

“No need to change anything.” I swallowed hard. “I’m used to this, remember? He was never mine, and he’s never going to be mine, and dancing with someone else doesn’t make that less true.”

“But it might make it less painful,” she said softly.

I shook my head, willing the sob in my chest to stay there. “Don’t worry about me.”

Two friends of my mother’s entered the bathroom and immediately accosted Blair, telling her how beautiful everything was. After chatting with them for a moment, we headed back to the table, where cake had been served along with pitchers of coffee.

Cole was back at Mariah’s table, but he looked over at me as I sat down. Averting my eyes, I poured myself some coffee, took a couple bites of cake without tasting them, and tried to keep breathing. He stayed at the kids’ table, his cake left untouched.

“When’s the wedding party dance?” I asked Blair.

“In about ten minutes,” she said.

“Good. I’m just going to grab some air first if that’s okay?”

She hesitated, and then nodded. “It’s okay.”

Without looking in Cole’s direction, I went to the coat room and asked the attendant for my faux fur stole, which all the women in the wedding party had worn. Wrapping it around my shoulders, I slipped outside.

The snow had finally stopped falling, and the night was clear, a few stars visible in the sky. I tipped my face up and out of habit, wished on the first one I saw.

I wish Cole could be mine.

Then I shook my head, blinking away tears. I really needed to stop doing that—wishing on stars was for kids. I was fucking thirty, and that wish was never going to come true. Taking deep breaths of icy air, I shivered and pulled my stole tighter around me. But I didn’t want to go in yet—I wanted to get so cold I felt numb.

“Cheyenne?”

At the sound of his voice, I turned. “Cole. Hey.”

“What are you doing out here? You’re going to freeze.”

“Nah.” I looked up at the sky again, at the traitorous stars. “I’m just getting some air.”

“Blair said you were out here—I said I’d come get you. It’s about time for the dance.”

“Oh. Okay.” Glancing at him, I tried a joke. “Ready to bust a move?”

He laughed a little. “I’m just hoping I don’t bust your toes.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep them out of your way.” I moved for the door, but he reached for my arm.

“Cheyenne, wait. I was hoping we’d have a chance to talk.”

“Maybe later, okay?” I said, gently shaking his hand off me. “We’d better get inside. I can hardly feel my feet, which won’t help us on the dance floor.”

Nodding, he pulled the door open for me without another word.

Inside, I dropped my stole in the coat room and made my way toward the edge of the dance floor, where I saw the rest of the wedding party waiting for the music to start.

Blair looked relieved when she saw me. “You’re back.”

“I’m back.” I could feel it when Cole took his place beside me.

“So when the song begins, we’re all just going to go out there,” Blair said, addressing everyone. “No announcements or anything.”

“Got it.” I nodded, a shiver moving through me as Cole placed a hand at the small of my back. I remembered being in his arms last night, the way his body had felt on mine, the way he’d kissed me. The song began, and he gently nudged me forward onto the floor.

I held my breath as he slipped one arm around me and took my hand in his. Placing my left palm on his broad shoulder, I made sure to keep my body several inches from his, so that our chests were not pressed together. We swayed a little awkwardly to the music, like middle schoolers at their first dance, afraid to get too close. My stomach jittered with nerves. Eventually I had to inhale, and when I did, the scent of him filled my head.

Oh God, how long was this song going to go on?

Over Cole’s shoulder, I saw Griffin holding Blair tight, Beckett and Alexis laughing at something, and Frannie grinning as Moretti turned her beneath his arm. Everyone was having a better time than we were—was it obvious?

Glancing at the guests, I saw my mother dabbing at her eyes, Charlie Frankel smiling fondly, Mariah shifting her weight from side to side, impatient to have her turn on the dance floor. It gave me an idea.

“You should dance with Mariah,” I said.

“Yeah, I promised her I would, at some point.”

“No, I mean during this song. Like, trade me for her, so she can be part of this. After all, she’s in the wedding party too.”