Somehow I managed to block out all thoughts of Will and focus on my work. Just kidding! I literally zoned out no less than ten times when I realized I was replaying our night together. It turns out that even after reading all of those incredibly steamy scenes in my historical romance books, I was in no way prepared for how incredible the real deal is. What it would feel like to be fully known by another person. To love someone in a tangible, outward way.
And it was a lot of fun, so there’s that too.
Anyway, I did manage to get the arrangements finished and loaded up in my truck and then unloaded again at James’s farm in enough time to come back home and shower and get ready for the evening.
And now, as I stand here staring at the dress I bought for the wedding rehearsal hanging up in my closet, I consider not going.
“I can’t wear this,” I tell Madison, who’s standing at my right.
“You absolutely have to wear this!” she says emphatically.
“It’s the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen,” Emily adds from my left.
The three of us continue to stare at the powder-pink, floor-length dress and marvel. I don’t think I’ve ever worn anything so fancy. I bought it when I was in the throes of proving that I could be Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face, and I chose the dress because it was the same shade of pink as the overlay she wears during her big runway reveal. The reveal where she completely dazzles the crowd. But now I don’t feel like I have anything to prove to myself, so I consider putting on my overalls instead.
“Oh no, you don’t,” says Madison, watching my gaze fall to my well-worn regular attire hanging behind the stunning dress. “You can love yourself and love dressing up in a fancy dress. The two can be synonymous.”
Before I can protest, she’s lifting my arms and taking off my shirt, and Emily is stripping my pants off my lower half. In a matter of seconds, I’m being zipped up in a dress that fits me like a glove. It’s simple—a soft pink dress with a square neckline and thick sleeveless straps. Unlike the dress of Emily’s I wore for my disaster date, this cuts off at the exact perfect spot for my curvy shape and short size—midway past my knees. But the wildest part is the sexy slit that extends up the side to my midthigh.
I feel beautiful and feminine, and can’t help but smile when I look in the mirror.
And an hour later, as soon as I walk into the premises of the rehearsal dinner, of course John—the one man I’d like to never see again—corners me by the open bar. Noah and Amelia just had to go and invite most of the town. Of course John wasn’t invited—but Jeanine was—and I know from being warned by Amelia after the RSVP came in that Jeanine brought him as her plus-one.
“Wow, Annie…you look…incredible.” He whistles as he eyes me head to toe in a way that I really don’t think he should feel comfortable doing after he ditched me mid date, and is currently on a date with another woman.
Well, I feel incredible, but I didn’t get this dress for him. Or for anyone really. I bought it and am wearing it because it makes me happy and confident. So much so that if someone were to call me Sweet Annie tonight, I wouldn’t even be offended. Because it’s only an insult if I accept it as one.
And thanks to Will, I will now forever and for always smile when I hear that particular adjective. Speaking of Will, I peek over my shoulder and look around the open-air tent to find him, but he’s not here. There are beautiful warm string lights, big gorgeous bouquets (courtesy of me), tables with white linens, and people dressed to the nines everywhere I look—but no Will.
I turn back and almost forget I was midconversation with John. “Oh, thank you. You look nice too. Have a good night,” I say, taking a glass of wine from the bar and preparing to turn.
“Wait, uh—Annie,” he says in a sort of frantic rush. “I’m here with Jeanine tonight, but it’s nothing serious. So I was actually wondering if you’d like to go out again sometime? Because the last time got cut short…by my emergency.”
Ha! This man has some nerve still pretending it was an “emergency.” And insulting Jeanine by asking out another woman while he’s on a date with her.
Is this really happening? Am I getting my movie moment? The one where I’ve been completely transformed and am in my sexy dress, and I get to tell the loser guy who made me feel like cow poo to get lost in front of everyone? It would feel so good. I’ll smile the entire time I deliver my monologue, “I don’t think so, on account of me being too boring for you.”
But then I realize that I don’t need this win. I have nothing to prove to John, and I don’t care to waste a single second on him.
“I don’t think so. Have a good night, John.” I walk off with my head held high and really hoping that Jeanine isn’t actually interested in him.
I weave through a crowd of people I don’t recognize who are flocked around Amelia and Noah. Music business friends, most likely. She hasn’t invited many people from her Rae Rose life because she and Noah wanted to keep the wedding pretty intimate, but when I look closer, I do recognize Amelia’s mom, Claire (her personal assistant), and Keysha (her manager).
But then I spot a little group of people I know gathered by the hors d’oeuvres table and am drawn to them like any true introvert would be at a large event.
“I’m telling you,” Mabel says to Jeanine, Harriet, and James as I walk up to the huddled group. “I think there’s a ghost living in the top floor of the inn.” She says this so passionately that even I am lifting my brow and leaning in to hear the story.
“Mabel, there’s no such thing as ghosts,” James says with a good-natured smile before taking a drink of his beer.
Mabel gives him a duck lip expression and juts out her hip. “Then explain to me why I heard all those squeaks last night.”
Of course I’m mid drink as she says this, which makes me spray it out of my mouth. I immediately cover my mouth, and Jeanine thrusts a cocktail napkin in my direction.
“Goodness, child,” says Mabel with wide (far too innocent) eyes.
Harriet mutters something about mannerless heathen under her breath. Some things never change with her.
“I’m so sorry!” I pat my mouth a few more times and try to regain my wits. “There was a bug in my drink, and I didn’t see it in time.”
“Of course, hun. Well, anyway…like I was saying, there were all these squeaky sounds and then—even worse—moans.” She shakes her head and then casts a sly look that only I would be able to see. And that’s when I realize she knows all about what happened last night with Will and is teasing me in front of everyone. Traitor!
I clear my throat, willing my cheeks not to flame. “Yep! Sounds like a ghost to me. Better call someone about that. Well, excuse me, I need to go check on Amelia. See ya’ll!”
I’m out of there so fast I nearly run straight into someone. Thankfully, a hand with a butterfly tattoo covers my wrist and stops me before my drink can end up all over either of us. I look up into the smiling eyes of Will, and my heart sighs with relief.
“You’re here,” I say, sounding far too dreamy even to my own ears. But you would sound like this, too, if you could see the man. He’s in an indigo-blue suit that fits him to tailored perfection. Crisp white dress shirt underneath with the top button undone. The only tattoo showing is his butterfly, which for some reason, knowing what else is living under that suit, which no one else knows is there besides me, is driving me wild. I want to unbutton him one by one right here in the middle of the party. Strip him naked just like he should always be. His body is simply too good to keep covered.
He lowers his voice and steps closer and leans into me, his one rebellious lock of hair dashing almost provocatively over his eyebrow as he does. “You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen.”
And just like that, my skin is tingling all over with remembered whispers of his body against mine.
“You look pretty stunning yourself.” Too stunning. “Wait—am I distracting you from your work right now?”
He shakes his head and wraps his arm around my lower back to pull me in close to him. “I’m off the clock tonight. Well, off the clock for Amelia for good. My replacement from the agency showed up today. Danielle is over there in the black pantsuit. She’s assigned to Amelia from now on.”
I turn my gaze to the very stern-looking woman hovering on the outskirts of the event.
My smile falls along with all my hopes and dreams. “So that means…your job here is officially over?”
He glances away and then back to me. “It means I get to enjoy the night by your side.”
“The night…” I repeat quietly, feeling just how final everything feels suddenly. How little time I have to say everything I feel.
“Will…” I wrap my arms around his waist. “I…want to say thank you.”
His eyebrow goes up, and a cocky smile slants his mouth. “For last night?”
“For everything. For the tutoring and the friendship and—”
He cuts me off, playfulness dissipated. “Wait, wait, wait. Is this a goodbye speech?”
I shrug and then direct my gaze to the floor so I don’t cry. “Well, tomorrow is the wedding. I’ll be working all morning to set up and also after the wedding to clean up. And if your job here is done, then…”
Will hooks his finger under my chin and tilts it up. Before he says anything else, he bends down and kisses me. Long and slow. It’s not an obscene kiss, but it’s so tender my stomach quivers. My heart swoons.
He pulls away and then runs a finger softly across one of the barrel curls my sisters put in my hair earlier, his eyes tracing his own movements as he does. “No way in hell am I saying goodbye here in front of all these people, Annabell.” He kisses me one more time. A quick peck just as a DJ begins to play soft background music while everyone mingles.
Will smiles. “Dance with me?”
I look around. “Uh, I don’t think this is really a dancing sort of night. Everyone is just eating and talking.”
“Come on, practice slow dancing with me,” he says with a playful hitch of his chin. A who-cares-about-anyone-else look. It’s what I love about him.
I nod and Will takes my palm in his and wraps his other around my waist as he pulls me in tight. Together, here in the middle of the tent, Will and I slow dance. His hand splays possessively across my back and then tucks our joined hands up between our chests. I close my eyes and memorize the way he smells and the feel of his suit jacket against my cheek. We sway in rhythm under the twinkling lights, and I can hear the sound of his breathing. His thumb glides delicately across the back of my hand in the most tender affection I’ve ever experienced. Suddenly, I want to beg him to stay. Stay! Stay! Stay! Never leave. Forget D.C., we could be so good together. I love you.
Off to the side, I see Amelia and Noah start to walk toward the clearing in the field where the ceremony is going to take place, and the wedding planner waves us all to follow. It’s time to start the rehearsal.
Will bends down and kisses my cheek, and again I anticipate the saddest goodbye of my life. “Hey, do me a favor and wear those banana PJs tonight?”
“Why?” I ask.
He grins and looks every bit like the roguish fiend he is when he says, “Because I’ve dreamed of peeling them off you more times than you can imagine. I want to make it a reality tonight.”
I laugh while simultaneously tingling with anticipation. “Peel them off. I see what you did there. Does this mean you’re coming over later?”
“Leave your window open.”
So this isn’t goodbye yet? I get one more night with Will Griffin.
“You know you can use the front door now, right?”
“What fun would that be?” He lets go of me and gestures with his head for me to follow the rest of the wedding party to the field. “I’ll see you tonight, Annabell.”
“I guess you will, William.”
I peek back over my shoulder while I walk away and find Will holding his phone in my direction. I think he just took my picture.
Will made good on his promise and climbed through my window an hour ago. Now, he holds me against him in my bed—my banana pajamas happily discarded to the floor. It’s late, but my sisters still aren’t home, and I assume they are staying at either Noah and Amelia’s place or maybe even at James’s house to give me and Will some privacy. I’m grateful. There’s been so much change and so many revelations during the last few days that I feel like I’ve run a marathon. Or an iron man. Or run against Harriet for town councilwoman.
Tonight, Will and I never do get around to saying goodbye or what we’ll do after he’s gone or if there’s even anything to be done, because every time I try to bring it up, he changes the subject. Instead, we make love and snuggle and Will kisses my forehead more times than I can count. And that’s that. The next morning when I wake up and the sun is just peeking over the horizon, Will is already gone. And the latest pirate romance I was reading that was sitting on my bedside table is gone too.
Did he take it as a memento of me?
While making coffee, I tell myself not to worry. I’ll see him at the wedding. There’s no way he’d miss it. And there’s no way he would actually leave without saying goodbye.
Right?
But then I think about last night and how he held me like he was afraid I was slipping away. How he kissed me, even after we’d made love, until my mouth was swollen. How in the light of his absence this morning, I realize that last night felt a lot like goodbye.
And that’s when I realize that he’s not going to be at the wedding. He’s not even going to say goodbye—and he intended for it to be that way from the beginning.
How dare he.
