Page 28 of I Could Be Yours

“Glitches are normal. And you’re good at rolling with things. You have the support system in place, and everyone attending the wedding will step in to help, if it’s needed.”

“I know. I have to remember that.” She squeezes the steering wheel. “Tristan wants it to be perfect too, but he has his own worries.”

“Is that what’s making you nervous?” That would make sense. Tristan is head over heels for Rix, and all he wants is to make her happy—and not fuck things up with her ever again. It’s not entirely reasonable, because people make mistakes, but it’s understandable considering how hard things were at the beginning of their relationship.

She nods. “His mother has called a few times, but Tristan didn’t feel ready to talk to her, so he let it go to voicemail, which I completely understand. She’s been absent from his life for more than a decade and a half, apart from the Christmas cards sent to their dad’s house.” Her grip on the steering wheel tightens. “But then she called Nate.”

My stomach sinks. “Oh no.”

Tristan’s mom bailed when he was twelve. Nate was eight, and Brody was four. Their dad raised them on his own, and Tristan hasn’t seen her since the day she left. But since last year, when Brody graduated high school, she’s been making half-assed attempts to reinsert herself into their lives. None of them are particularly interested after the damage she’s done, though.

“She’s a real piece of work.” Rix’s cheek tics with irritation.

“How did Nate handle that?” I slide my mini makeup case back into my purse and focus on Rix.

“Not particularly well. He was pretty upset about it, and so was Tristan. I guess his dad stepped in and told her to back off. I’m worried she’ll show up out of the blue and ruin things. AndTristan’s dad is finally dating again. It’s his first girlfriend in years, and he’s happy. Tristan’s mom coming back into the picture is just…opening a lot of old wounds.”

“I can imagine. I’m so sorry, Rix.”

That woman must be a special kind of selfish to pop back into their lives all these years later, seemingly without considering how difficult it would be for them.

“Don’t mention anything to Tristan, though—or Nate. It’s a sensitive topic, and we’re dealing with it in therapy, but Nate is struggling, and talking about it is hard for him.” She turns into the dance studio parking lot and takes the empty spot beside Nate’s car.

Nate is guarded on a good day, so this must be a heavy weight for him to carry. I nod. “I’ll keep it between us, and if you need to vent or talk things out, you know I’m here.”

We lean across the center console to share a hug. “I know, and thank you,” she says. “I’m so grateful for you and everything you’re doing to make this wedding a success. I know it’s been a lot.”

“I love this kind of thing,” I assure her. “Weddings and party planning are my happy place. Anything you need, I’m here for you.” Even if I never find my own Prince Charming, at least I get to help Rix tie the knot with hers.

“I’m so lucky to have you.”

“Same.”

We get out of the car and head inside. Tristan and Nate are waiting for us, along with another couple, who have their backs to us. As soon as Tristan spots Rix, he crosses over to us. “Hey, Ess. Hi, Bea.” He pulls a modified version of his signature move, his hand at the side of her neck, thumb sweeping the edge of her jaw as he dips down to rub his nose against hers.

It’s so freaking sweet. I look away, my smile faltering as my gaze lands on Nate. He’s dressed in his black pants and black shirt uniform. Except instead of a button-down, he’s wearing aT-shirt, which is somehow even hotter. He does not look excited to be here. Although, he never looks excited to be anywhere.

His furrowed brow deepens as his eyes move from my feet all the way to my face. He runs a hand through his hair. “Ess,” he grinds out.

“Nathan.”

I’m awarded with another glower.

This should be fun—in a stepping-on-a-Lego-barefoot kind of way.

“Essie?” A deep, familiar voice drags my attention away from Nate.

My heart plummets into my feet as I take in the other couple.What are the freaking chances? “Barton?”

“Hey! Wow. It’s been a long time.” Barton’s eyes move over me. He puts his arm around the woman next to him. “This is my fiancée, Alison.”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” I extend a hand and she takes it, looking questioningly at Barton.

“You too,” she says. “How do you and Barton know each other?”

“Oh, uh, we’re old friends.” Barton chuckles uncomfortably.

My stomach lurches, and I fight to keep the smile on my face. We dated for several months before I took the job in Vancouver. He told me he loved me, I thought maybe he was the one—although I think they’re all the one—and then he got a slick job offer in Sri Lanka and didn’t tell me he was moving. He broke up with me in a text message. That was three years ago.

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