Page 88 of I Could Be Yours

“Yeah, he just went to the bathroom. He’ll be right back.”

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, we were just talking. Everything’s great.” It’s a little white lie, but she doesn’t need to carry this with her.

Nate returns as the slideshow begins. Pictures of Tristan and Flip and me and Rix as kids flash across the screen. I see their family’s story unfolding, the way Tristan and his dad were always together with his brothers. Little Brody already in love with hockey at the age of three. Nate more interested in the mechanics of skates than in shooting the puck.

A photo of Rix and Flip with Tristan’s dad and brothers at the maple farm pops up. Rix is holding Brody’s hand, and Nate is busy looking in a maple bucket, while Tristan and Flip grin cheesily. Tristan’s smile stops appearing when he hits his teens, and anyone who knows their story can see the darkness that clouds his eyes.

The pictures of Tristan at Rix and Flip’s house are endless. He was always there for dinner. They were forever playing hockey on the street, and birthday parties chronicle their friendship. There are just as many moments with Rix and me. Our lives play out on the screen: first days of school together, birthday celebrations, high school prom, our first year in university where we shared a room, our first apartment, cooking together, snuggling on the couch. Rix and I were inseparable all through university, until we graduated and I went to Vancouver to chase a dream that didn’t quite fit my life goals.

Tristan and Flip’s friendship spans two decades, from kids playing street hockey to making the pros, and then finally ending up on the same team.

And then Rix and Tristan appear together, their love so clearand beautiful on the screen. Tristan looks at her with such awe and adoration, and Rix’s eyes are always so full of love for him. Someone managed to slip in a picture of Rix making cucumber salad. Her face goes red, and Tristan fights a grin while our friends laugh, and the parents and other friends look confused. It’s perfect and amazing to see these two, who grew up in each other’s orbit, find the truest kind of love in each other.

When the slideshow ends, so does the evening, and everyone heads back to their rooms. I hug Tristan and Rix good night and send them off with promises that I’ll message first thing in the morning.

Once they’re on their way, I turn to Nate. “I want to check in with the concierge to make sure everything is ready for our bridal breakfast, and double-check our hair appointments before I go to bed.”

“I’ll come with you,” Nate offers.

“Okay.”

He glances over his shoulder, making sure we’re alone on the path before he links our pinkies. “Do you want your room to yourself tonight?”

I glance at him, but he’s focused on some spot in the distance. “No.” We don’t have many days left here, and I want to make the most of them.

“It’s okay if I stay with you?” His fingers press against my lower back as we maneuver around a drunk couple.

“I like Nate snuggles,” I admit as we approach the concierge.

A small smile tugs the corner of his mouth. “Good. Me too.”

As we reach reception, I notice a dark-haired woman arguing with one of the staff. “You can’t be completely full! You must have something available.”

“Ma’am, there’s a wedding?—”

“I’m aware! My son is the one getting married!” she snaps.

Nate freezes, the color draining from his face.

Time slows as she turns in our direction. The similarities are uncanny. The dark eyes and the slant of her brow are echoed onNate’s face, as are his full lips. I see pieces of all the Stiles brothers. Tristan’s cheekbones, Brody’s nose.

Her eyes flare in recognition as they land on Nate, and he moves closer, his grip on my hand tightening.

“No. This isn’t happening,” he whispers.

She abandons the desk clerk and her luggage and heads straight for us. I step in front of Nate, a shield, a barrier, wishing I could protect him from this fresh, horrible pain.

“Nathan? Is that you?” Her eyes are wide with wonder as she takes in the man gripping my hand like a lifeline.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Nate’s voice is rough with fury and anguish. “Why would you come here?”

She takes a tentative step back, throat bobbing as she smiles uncertainly. “For the wedding.” Her gaze shifts to me, assessing for a moment before she refocuses on her son without so much as an acknowledgement.

And the rage I felt a moment ago doubles. I’m so sick of being dismissed. I’m tired of being loved and hated for something I have no control over. Everything is easier and harder when all they see is a pretty face.

“You weren’t invited,” Nate grinds out.

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