Page 126 of The Road to Ruined

Would I have ever found love if that were the case?

Now, I'm alone at the table, pushing chocolate cake around on my plate. Sebastian stands at the other side of the tent, talking to Ashlyn and her husband, of all people. He's taken off his jacket and rolled up his white button-up, revealing his muscular tattooed forearms. The humidity has both of our hair going a little crazy, but the curls look good on him—it's just ruining mine.

It smells like rain again.

"More champagne?" Sebastian asks when he returns, handing me a glass. He sits in the chair beside me, turning it to face me.

"Aren't you worried I'll get sloppy and do a murder?" I ask, rolling my eyes as I set the glass down on the table.

"I'm sorry, Teagan," he says. He takes my hand in his and presses his lips to my forearm—not the one with the tulip tattoo but the one he'd written on in blood before. "I did miss you. I followed you down here to the beach earlier, and I watched you cut the bows off the chairs, and then I watched you eat alone in the corner of that cafe and cry. And I did hate it. I've never felt worse in my life."

"It's okay," I tell him. "No one ever taught you any better, either."

"You did."

I sip the champagne and avert my eyes, looking somewhere over his shoulder instead.

"Do you want to dance?" he asks.

"What? You'll dance with me?"

Sebastian shrugs. "Sure. If the next song is a slow one, I'll dance with you."

"Because I'm dying?"

"Yes." He places a hand on the back of my neck and leans in, pressing his forehead to mine before kissing me. "And because I'm going to miss you forever, Teagan. To me, you're everything. I lied when I told you that you'd forget what it's like to feel andcare about things. Maybe you can put it to sleep, but you don't forget."

"I love you," I tell him. "Don't be mad at me for saying it—I'm going to miss you forever, too."

The song playing from the speakers fades into the next one, and it is something slow. He holds out his hand to me, and I take it, letting him lead me onto the dance floor. His hands sit low on my waist, holding me tightly against him. I rest my head on his chest, inhaling deeply. This is nice—too nice. For a moment, I close my eyes and allow my mind to wander. I imagine that we're ordinary—that this is our wedding, and we'd go back to California and a small house filled with books and music. We'd dance like this in the living room, and he'd kiss me and hold me after we fuck. Once a month, we'd have dinner with my family like we did before, but I wouldn't think about killing anyone. I'd smile and laugh like he did, and it would be real—for both of us.

But itisonly for a moment, and then I let it go. I know who and what we are.

As the song ends, he pulls away.

"We need to go soon," he says. "Do you want me to make a big scene? Make it look like we're fighting to sell it?"

"No," I tell him. "Just try and make it look like you can't live without me instead."

"That won't be that hard," he says.

He kisses me again, his lips pressing hard against mine. My hands move from his back to his neck and through his hair, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper. As his tongue explores my mouth, his hands move to the swell of my ass, gripping the cheeks hard through my dress.

"Time to go, Teagan," Sebastian says. "Go say goodbye, but make sure you don't say anything that will make them think you're leaving on purpose. I'll wait for you by the gazebo."

I sigh. "Okay."

I turn, take a deep breath to steady myself, and then scan the room for my mom and dad. They're standing on the opposite side of the room talking to Austin's parents. My heart pounds in my chest as I approach them.

"Hey." It comes out weak; I choke on the word just a little before pulling myself together. "I think we're going to go upstairs now. I'm getting tired."

"Well, if you and Sebastian get up early enough, you two should join us on the catamaran," my dad says. "The shuttle leaves at 8:30 AM."

"Oh, Teagan gets so seasick on those," my mom says. "Remember the trip to Maui? Watching her puke made four other tourists puke, too."

"Yeah, catamarans aren't really for me," I say. I was seventeen, it was choppy as fuck, and I was drunk. I couldn't really tell them that at the time.

Austin's parents laugh a little, but his mother's lip still turns up a little when she looks at me—just like it did all afternoon in the hotel suite.

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