Page 41 of Kiss the Bride

“You don’t want me?”

Fuuuck me. I claw at my hair in frustration. “You can’t spend two days crying over one man and then expect me to…” I trail off, struggling to find the right words. It’s getting harder to hide my body’s reaction to her proximity. Muscle memory is becoming a dangerous thing and since my heart wants what it wants, it’s almost impossible to tell my body to back the hell down. “Look, I still need to send your ex-fiancé a text. Do you want to read it?”

“Oh.” Olivia reads my draft, her mouth forming a perfectly shaped O. “Charming. Sophisticated and so articulate,” she drawls. “So we agreed he has until nine am tomorrow to get the fuck out of my house? That gives him twelve hours.”

“Are you sure? We could give him longer.” Despite the heat from her leg setting my body on fire, I can’t brush her away, but I need my brain engaged to send the text.

“Here’s me thinking that I’ve handed all decisions over to you. Will we, or won’t we—get it on, give him extra time.” Olivia flashes me the flirty look I never tried to resist back in the day.

“He’s your ex and it’s your house. As far as I’m concerned, he’s had enough time, but it’s up to you if you want to give him twelve hours or another twelve days.” Holding my nerve and deciding I deserve a medal for self-control, I carefully raise her leg and set it aside. “As for us getting it on, how many times do I have to tellyou that I amnotyour rebound and I’mnotgonna be your one-night fling.”

“I’m sorry, I—I—I, please—“ Olivia’s face contorts with embarrassment, and I want to punch myself for going too far.

“Sweetheart, let’s just get you through this.” If I could kiss her, I would. But the next time I kiss her will be our last first kiss. The next time I kiss my Liv, I won’t be holding back, and I won’t back away. Next time will be the beginning of the rest of our lives. Holding onto that thought, I exercise more patience than I thought possible. “You were gonna marry him, and now you’re not.”

“I thought you wanted me.”

“Your relationship detox isn’t about whoIwant or how long I’ve wanted her.“ There, at least I’m honest. “Let’s start with getting this text right.”

She snuggles up to me so we can read from my phone screen.

Hunter: Miss Woodgrove would like you to remove your belongings and any other personal effects from the house her father purchased in her name. Any items remaining tomorrow morning after nine am when the locks will be changed, will be donated to a charity of Miss Woodgrove’s choosing. Any questions or correspondence can be directed to Mr. Woodgrove pending legal advice engaged.

“That sounds formal,” Olivia says before rereading the message. “I want to tell him that he’s lying, cheating bastard.”

“I can send him a link to the video so he can watch himself in action.”

“Oops, I deleted it.”

“You what?” I mock shock and horror, complete with sarcasm. “His one chance for fame and you deleted it?”

“I didn’t think about Pete when I sent it. He doesn’t deserve to have his cheating ex thrown in his face.” Olivia is calmer than I’ve seen her when talking about her wedding day. “Sending the video meant I didn’t have to explain why the wedding was canceled. Everyone knows so I deleted the video.”

“I’m so fucking proud of you.” Without thinking, I pull her in for a long hug, inhaling her shampoo and remembering how well our bodies and hearts used to fit together. When we get back home, I’m throwing caution to the wind. I’ll court her, I’ll romance her, I’ll do whatever it takes to sweep her off her feet—and then I want to marry the fuck out of Olivia Woodgrove, because she is and always will be the love of my life.

“Hunter,” she purrs, pulling back to look into my eyes. “You say we can’t, but I don’t believe you.”

“The text. Anything you want me to change before I send it like a punch to his guts?”

“I like it when you get all alpha.” She places my finger over the message and presses send. “Done.”

“Why don’t you check out room service, I want to send him something man-to-man.”

Olivia stares at me before nodding, kisses me on each cheek—which is not enough for my body to get the message that nothing is happening—and heads back inside. Should I or shouldn’t I? Warren Woodgrove said any message from me would be marking my territory. But if Mitch is dumb enough to cheat on Liv, then he might need me to spell it out in words he’ll understand.

Hunter: I fucking trusted you. You will never have the opportunity to hurt her again. You are no longer her fiancé. You are no longer my friend. Hope that’s clear enough for you.

I hit send and let out a long breath. The sun is setting, casting a warm glow over the beach. I can hear the waves crashing gently against the shore, and for a moment, everything feels almost peaceful. I head back inside, determined to make this right, to show Olivia that I’m here for the long haul.

“Room service on the way?” I ask, seeing her sprawled on the day bed, looking as beautiful as ever with the outdoor lighting bathing her in a soft glow.

“Yeah,” she says, her voice softening. “Thank you, Hunter.”

“For what?”

“For being you. For being here.”

I sit beside her, taking her hand in mine. “Always, Liv. Always.”

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