Ropes of pale pink roses and ivy drape elegantly across the ceiling, meeting in the center where a crystal chandelier hangs over the dance floor. A hundred tables cluster around it, each carefully set with bone china and silver flatware.
“Want something from the bar?” Cyrus asks when we find our table.
“Cyrus!” Poppy says sharply.
“Oh, sorry, man.” My roommate looks flustered.
“It’s okay.” I grip the back of my chair and look around. “I think I’m going to find Adair.”
I’m weaving my way through a crowd of Valmont elite, searching for her, when a hand closes over my arm. I pivot to find her standing behind me.
“I was just looking for…” Words fail me. I saw her walk down the aisle in her bridesmaid’s dress, but there had been a crowd blocking my view. Up close? She’s every dream I’ve forgotten in the morning, come back to me. Her dress is the palest pink, almost as fair as her skin. The gauzy fabric crosses delicately over her breasts and wraps around the curve of her shoulders, showcasing her freckles. Despite the hours of makeup, she looks like she does in the morning after we make love—lips pink, cheeks stained with a flush of red. I’ll never remember exactly what she wore, but I will never forget this feeling.
“Did I do alright?” she says, laughter in her eyes. When I don’t answer, she prompts, “Walking down the aisle? I hope my practice paid off.”
I shake myself out of my fog and crook a finger at her. “You didn’t trip once,” I say, trying to sound natural. “That deserves a reward.”
No one notices us kissing at a wedding. We blend in with the romantic atmosphere too well. So I take my time, showing her exactly how perfect she is to me. When I finally release her, we wander through the middle of the crowd, and apart from everyone.
The floor-to-ceiling windows of the country club ballroom look out over a large, picturesque lake. Banks of red-barked cypress trees, up-lit with gold, cluster around the shores, and wide swathes of green fairway dotted with white sand sweep in every direction. The lake itself is a mirror of the sky above, glowing with the incandescent oranges, reds, and purples of the setting sun.
I squeeze Adair’s hand as an announcer’s smooth baritone calls out from the P.A. system. “Please join us in the ballroom where Malcolm and Virginia will now share their first dance as a married couple.”
The newlyweds stroll to the middle of the parquet dance floor, hand in hand, as a spotlight appears from above. Everyone applauds, even me. I couldn’t care less about Malcolm and Ginny and the rest of the MacLaine family, honestly. It’s more like I’m clapping for the idea that two people can give this much of themselves to each other.
Adair shoots me a surprised look.
“What?” I ask defensively. “This is pretty magical.”
“Weddings are definitely romantic,” Adair says with a sigh. She takes my hand in both of hers and rests her head on my shoulder as the first notes of their song start up.
It’s a short song, and just as the next begins, the announcer invites everyone to join in the dancing.
Adair has other ideas, though, because she pulls me into the hallway.
“Where are we going, Lucky?”
“This way,” she says with the easy smile of someone beginning to feel their champagne.
“I can see that. Where will we end up?”
“Shh. Shh.” She places an index finger on my lips and looks around in exaggerated paranoia. “It’s a secret.”
Definitely feeling the champagne.
The country club building is huge, and the more stairs we climb, the fewer people we see.
“Don’t you want to dance?” I ask.
“It’s a kind of dancing, yes,” she says with a devilish grin, pulling me into a room marked linen.
“I don’t think this is a good idea, Lucky. I don’t have protection, and there are people—”
“What’s wrong with lots of people?” She says with the slow precision of a person determined to sound less tipsy than they really are. “There should be lots of people at a wedding. They’re there to look at you and tell you how happy you look. Oh, and the presents. They give presents. Presents are good.”
“We don’t want a wedding like this, Lucky. Weddings should be small and intimate. Only the people you really care about should come.”
Her breath hitches, her eyes sparkling with something other than champagne. “You’re planning our wedding, huh?”
“Adair MacLaine, I’ve known you were it for me since the moment I first saw you.” I cup her chin in my hand. “And then you were a bitch, and I was a dick—and maybe we just both knew and it scared us. But we couldn’t fight it. We’ll never be able to fight this.”
“How can you…?” She searches my face.
“I’ve stopped thinking about my future. There’s only our future. I can’t see it any other way.”
“Sterling, I…” she trails off, at a loss.
“I’m all in, Adair. I love you.”
She pulls me to her like I’m the air she needs to breathe.
That’s how it should be. Her need fills me with purpose: to live a better life, to be a better person, to make her happy, safe, fulfilled. And it’s not just the obvious things—her sense of humor, her intelligence, her perfect body. It’s the little things I can’t get enough of. How the downy fuzz on the back of her neck stands up when I whisper in her ear. How the corners of her eyes crinkle when I tease her. How she opens for me when we make love, trusting me so completely. Each day there’s a new discovery, a new detail I never noticed. I want to spend the rest of
