Page 30 of Mr. Swoony

“No.” He shakes his head and seems to lose his balance a bit. “Maybe a little bit.” He brings up his fingers and laughs. “But it gave me the courage to do what I’ve wanted to for the past week.”

He was thinking of me the entire time I thought of him?

My shoulders drop. “Oh, Conor.”

“I wasn’t alone in my feelings on Saturday night. You know you don’t want to marry him.”

I stare at Conor, at how handsome he is, and he’s right. I was there with him, but still. To do this?

“It’s not up to you if I marry Tristan today.” I throw my hands in the air. “Why does everyone think they can tell me how to live my life?” I rip the veil off my head.

“I thought?—”

“You thought what? That I’d run down the aisle, and you’d catch me? That I’d link hands with you, and we’d run out of the church and disappear to some island?” My voice raises.

A hard knock lands on the door. “Eloise!” Tristan shouts.

“Kind of.” Conor looks sheepish now.

My hands land on my hips. “Did I give you the impression I wanted you to come here and save me?”

“Eloise!” Tristan bangs again.

I pull bobby pins out of my hair, my scalp sighing with every single one I remove.

“Don’t try to minimize it. You know you don’t want to marry him.” Conor points at the door.

“So what? You want to marry me because we shared one night with some chemistry between us? You want to step into Tristan’s place on the altar?”

His face pales.

“Yeah, I thought so.” I step forward with my finger in his face. “Go look in the mirror, Conor, because you don’t want this.” I take a break from pulling the bobby pins out of my hair and lift the skirt of my white dress. “You’re used to getting what you want, and you couldn’t have me, so you’ve convinced yourself that I’m somehow the girl for you.” I step closer. “Tell me, Conor, what number am I on your list? But I’m supposed to believe you felt different with me?”

“I did,” he says, not arguing about how many women came before me. “And you did too. I know it with everything inside of me. Sure, I’m not ready to marry you, but I?—”

“You’re just drunk, Conor.”

There’s more noise at the door, and I worry Tristan will break it down if I don’t let him in.

“Just go home and sleep it off. I have a lot to handle here.” I cross the room and open the door.

Stepping outside the room, I find Tristan’s fist raised to knock again. He lowers his arm and glares at Conor behind me.

“What the fuck, Eloise?” Tristan lets me walk out into the foyer area of the church, and I hear Conor follow us.

Henry is there, talking to Merrick.

“Just let them talk,” Henry says with Rowan, Tweetie, and three other guys at his side.

“Eloise, I want answers now!” Tristan shouts.

“Give her some breathing room,” Conor snipes from behind me.

“Fuck you!” Tristan yells at Conor and grabs my wrist to spin me to face him. Then he decides better of it and turns us so his back is to Conor, lowering his voice. “You need to explain this—now. Nana is going crazy in there, and our moms are about to roll around in the rose petals.”

“Get your hands off her,” Conor says.

I shake my head at Conor and try to unwind my wrist from Tristan’s grip, but he tightens it, leaning closer. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Eloise. All my family’s business contacts are in that room, which is embarrassing.”

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