Page 114 of New York Love Stories: Vol. 2

I chuckle, thinking about how much she and Tealey are alike and then how the differences bridge the gap between them. I’m a lucky guy. “Yeah, I’ll look into that,” I joke.

Mulling over Mom’s advice, I must agree on one thing. There’s no reason to wait.

I shouldn’t.

It’s settled.Tonight is the night I tell Tealey Bell that I love her. I turn with a grin and head back to the groom’s room.

Jean-Luc.

Fucker.

I guess Marlow didn’t get the message that my Tealey’s not up for grabs. The minute he walked in, kissing cheeks of the women under forty and kissing hands of the women over, he made his presence known. You’d think he’d just landed his private helicopter on the lawn by how much attention he was getting. I peek out the window to check, just to make sure.

Jackson asks Cade, “How does it feel to be getting married?”

“Remember how graduation felt? Nervous for the unknown but excited like the whole world was yours for the taking?” Cade grins. “It feels just like that.”

I look over my shoulder at Cade. He just described Tealey’s and my relationship.

I think I knew all along that she was going to get the best of me, that I wouldn’t be able to lose her once I had her. Even on the day I met Cade by the water, I chalked my feelings up to having mixed-up emotions so I could try to play it off.

Two months later, I realize—I’m ready to admit—that I’m not mixed up when it comes to Tealey. I want to be what I’ve never been before—a boyfriend, a partner, a lover, and a friend to this woman who makes my heart beat faster, that allows me to breathe with ease. Tealey Bell gives me a peek into a life I never thought I’d have.

Fuck.I run my fingers through my hair in a sad attempt to wrangle my runaway feelings.Refocus, Wellington.Turning to face my friend, I say, “You look happy, man.”

Cade maneuvers around us and angles his chin to get a better look in the mirror. “I am. It took eight years to get to this point. I would have married her on day one.”

Cade’s cousin comes in and holds up the bottle of bourbon that went missing from our room earlier. He asks, “Got another one of these?”

Shooting me a look, I know what he’s asking me to do. “The wedding’s about to begin. It’s an open bar at the reception.”

“Cool.” Satisfied, the guy closes the door.

Jackson says, “Oh to be twenty-one again.”

“All of six years ago?” I ask, teasing.

The wedding planner opens the door and pokes her head in. “Ready to get married?” she asks, a smile reaching the rounds of the apples of her cheeks.

Cade heads for the door with us behind him. He asks, “How’s my bride?”

The planner looks as if she’s seen an angel. “The most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen.”

They continue talking as she leads us to the great room to wait. Her words have me imagining Tealey dressed in white, taking a walk to be my wife. I rub the bridge of my nose.Two months, I remind myself. I canloveher. I can bein lovewith her. But it’s too soon for marriage.

Marriage should be a calculated decision, one that makes sense and is done at the right time. Although Tealey’s not afraid to put her dreams into the universe, my dreams are just taking shape.

My mom’s bedroom door opens, and Tealey and Marlow walk out in short pale purple gowns—fitted on top and flaringout at the waist. The shoes are simple strappy flats, which my mom will appreciate since heels will mess up her lawn.

But it’s Tealey’s eyes that shine like the sun hides in them—bright and beautiful, so much like who she is—that render me speechless. She comes to me and adjusts my boutonnière. Looking up, she says, “You look very handsome, Counselor.”

I’m not sure what to say. I want to wrap my arms around her, tell her how she’s utterly breathtaking, kiss her, claim her, and keep her safe from the rakish Frenchman waiting to pounce on her at the first chance he gets. I’m just not allowed to. Not yet. Not without giving her a say. And there’s no room to talk for the time being.

Cade is sent marching down the aisle, and we’re told to line up. We pair off as it should be—Marlow and Jackson, Tealey and me. Like a drill sergeant, the wedding planner inspects all of us. She steps back to take us in, and her face sours. “No. This isn’t working.” Grabbing Jackson, she says, “You and . . .” She doesn’t have to say it. There are only two couples.

Tealey’s hand tightens around my arm, and I place my hand on hers to hold her right where she is. Then the planner says, “We have to hurry. Tealey,” she says with a snap of her fingers. “Come up here.”

“I think this works.”

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