Page 47 of Take the Wheel

Then it was the bride’s turn to speak.‘Look, I could stand here and talk about fate or destiny, but we both know I don’t believe in that stuff. What I do believe in is this. You and me. The fact that somehow, against all odds, we ended up here. You make my life more interesting. You make everything more fun. And let’s be honest, I look really good standing next to you. So, I promise to keep making you laugh, to always let you steal myfries (within reason), and to stick around. Because, let’s face it, nobody else could handle me like you do. You’re my favourite person, and I plan to keep it that way.’

Everyone clapped. Nancy couldn’t think why. This wedding was tragic. No matter how much had been spent, if it wasn’t real love, it was a shit event.

Not that she’d know much about that. She’d never even come close. She’d never made it past a year with anyone.

She’d worked for Ari for longer than that, she realised. Two years. That connection, imperfect and complicated as it was, was the only thing that had lasted in her life.

Was that sad?

Yes. Because she was paid to be in Ari’s company. This was a job. This was ajob. She couldn’t go getting silly like this over her boss just because they’d widened the boundaries of the contract, and Nancy had let herself get carried away with it.

But in the back of her mind, she couldn’t shake the thought that maybe what she had with Ari could have been so much more.

In another life.

Thirty-Eight

Ari stood at the edge of the garden, gripping the stem of her champagne flute so tightly she thought it might snap. Around her, guests meandered through the manicured hedges to the faint notes of a string quartet while the bride and groom posed for two different photographers, signing the license.

All of it set her teeth on edge.

Because it was all so very Paris. This wasn’t a wedding in the sentimental sense. It was a statement, a carefully constructed tableau. An advert for Paris’s perfection. ‘Look what I have, and look where you are,’ the message whispered beneath every perfect detail. Only the groom didn’t seem to be in on the joke.

Ari’s jaw clenched. She wanted to cause a scene, to rip through this façade. Push someone into a pond. Slap a camera out of a photographer’s hand. Pee in a bush. Do anything, anything, to ruin the vision Paris had created.

Her fingers twitched, itching to act. Her pulse throbbed against her temple. It would feel so good, just for a moment.

‘Don’t.’ Nancy’s voice was low, edged with something like amusement but mostly understanding.

Ari startled slightly; she hadn’t realised Nancy was beside her.

‘Don’t what?’ Ari bit back, though she already knew what Nancy meant.

Nancy raised a brow. ‘Don’t burn the place down.’

‘You don’t understand.’

Nancy’s gaze was unwavering. There was no judgment there, no smug pleasure, just quiet, deliberate steadiness. A kind of patience that made Ari feel simultaneously exposed and understood.

‘I think I do,’ she said.

There was something about the quiet certainty in Nancy’s voice that made Ari falter.

Her anger didn’t disappear, but it stopped feeling like it might spill over. The edges dulled, and the heat cooled.

She let out a slow breath.

‘I don’t get how you do that,’ she admitted, voice lower now. ‘You always know how to…’ she trailed off, searching for the words.

Nancy’s eyebrows raised. ‘Tame the beast?’

Ari barked a short laugh despite herself. Then, quieter, ‘No. Just… pull me back from the edge.’

Nancy studied her for a long moment, then said simply, ‘It never feels that hard.’

Ari blinked. ‘But I’m such a mess.’

‘You’re not a mess,’ Nancy said with such casual sincerity that it blew Ari’s mind.

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