Page 68 of Not You Again

She offers me some neutral information about it, something she’d probably tell any bride who asked. “It took the better part of a year to get that neckline right.”

A low hum comes from my chest. “It’s beautiful.”

“Just like your thighs.” Her lips curl into a smile. I smile when she tilts her head so her temple presses to mine. A small gesture of thanks, of trust, of giving in.

The groom twirls the bride, her gown glittering in the light. I curl my fingers against the fabric of Andie’s dress. “Can you believe we did that six weeks ago?”

“No,” she whispers. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel real.”

A low chuckle vibrates through me. “It all feels real to me.”

Andie tears her eyes from the newly married couple on the dance floor, pinning me with a look so raw my heart aches. Her gaze falls to my mouth.

Aside from our wedding day, and despite our clash in the bedroom a couple of weeks ago, we still haven’t kissed. Not since we were too young to know how much it would mean.

“Would it really be so bad to care about each other?” My eyes rove over her face, tracing her freckles in the low, romantic lighting.

Her lips part to answer, but the music ends, and the crowd around us applauds. Moment over.

Andie primly clears her throat and joins in the applause.

So do I, but my arms wrap around her waist to clap my hands in front of her belly. We’re not done talking about this, and I’m not letting go until we are.

As the applause fades, I whisper against the shell of her ear, “Come dance with me.”

Her answer is low and breathy. “I’m working.”

I can’t help the way my lips curl into a smile. So fucking stubborn. “It’s a wedding. There’s supposed to be dancing.” Besides, I know Heidi is running around here somewhere—the last time I saw her she was stuffing a canapé into her mouth before swiping furiously at her tablet. If something goes wrong with the dress, she’ll alert Andie.

I’m about to remind Andie what the executive producer said about needing us to cooperate when she sighs. “Fine.”

It’s a small victory, but I’ll take what I can get. I stand and offer her my hand. She takes it and doesn’t even complain when I lead her away from the dance floor, toward the tent’s exit. We stop next to the sparkling fountain, and I ignore the shuffle nearby as Cassidy and Steve line us up in frame.

Instead, I place one hand on Andie’s waist and offer her the other. She steps into my dance frame just as the next song cues up inside the tent. “I promise I won’t trip over my own feet this time.”

“That makes one of us,” she quips, her fingers tightening on my shoulder.

A few bars into the song, I take the plunge. “Andie, I’m done pretending.”

Her eyes go wide and dart over my shoulder toward Cassidy and Steve. Her voice is stretched thin as she echoes, “Done pretending.”

“Yes.” I pull her in closer, so our hips are pressed together and the small of her back arches around my hand. “I’m done pretending I don’t have feelings for you when every time you look at me, I’m yours.”

“Oh.” It’s a whisper, lost in the water cascading off the fountain, but her lips form a perfect O just before her eyes soften.

“I’ve been holding back.” My pulse bounds, putting it all on the line. “I don’t want to scare you or push you, but I don’t want you to wonder where I am in this. I know you’ve been hurt before, and that it’s hard to trust me. But I have feelings for you. Real ones. I’m all in. It’s something my wife should know, don’t you think?”

“Kit,” she says my name on a sigh. “We’ve only been doing this for a few weeks.”

“It feels longer than that, doesn’t it?” I counter, my fingers digging into the flesh on her hips. I force myself to relax. “Can you really tell me you don’t feel this—what’s between us—too?”

My eyes fall to her throat as she swallows. Her hand curls more tightly around mine. When I meet her gaze again, she admits, “I’m scared.”

“Of what?” My voice is softer. Gentle. I don’t know if Steve’s equipment can pick it up, and I don’t fucking care. “Me?”

She shakes her head and lets out a frustrated noise. Her hand releases mine, and before my heart can drop, she moves it to my neck, stepping closer. “Not you, no.”

I take in a slow breath, knowing I have to tread carefully if I want to keep her close. “You jumped off a platform in the rainforest just to prove to me you wouldn’t let your fear of heights stop you.”

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