Page 38 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
I squeezed Matt’s hand back. He tucked it in against his stomach, his other hand wrapping around our joined ones, just for added support.
When the vows began, I didn’t hear a word, hardly noticed her veil floating in the wind or the way she grinned at him like he’d hung the moon.
All I could think about was how close I’d come to being her, how much I’dwantedthat.
And whether sitting here now, clutching Matt’s hand in mine like I wanted to meld mine into it, made me any different.
————
The reception was a cream-and-gold, over-the-top spectacle. Long farmhouse tables under chandeliers hanging from the trees like they’d grown right out of them, waiters in all white floating between guests with champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres with literal edible gold, a string quartet mangling a pop song in the name of ‘elegance.’
And Lauren was still shooting daggers at me with her stare from the head table.
I didn’t flinch — not even when she whispered something into Ryan’s ear that made his jaw clench, not when one of her bridesmaids turned to glare at me like I’d committed war crimes by showing up in a dress that fit me like a glove.
“Let them look,” Matt had said simply the first time I’d noticed it when I sat down, his attention half caught between me and Zach’s complaint about the lack of chicken nuggets.
He was right. I could let them look, let them see me as I was. Here, not broken. Better off. And more importantly, for the first time in two months, no longer feeling like the one wholost.
I sipped my champagne, let the annoying string music wind around me, and smiled the next time Lauren’s eyes met mine like I wasn’t imagining destroying their wedding cake before they could even get to it.
The moment the string quartet packed up, the speeches finished, and the DJ got set up, Zach tugged on my hand.
“Are we allowed to dance yet?” he asked, eyes wide and grin fierce like he already knew the answer but just wanted to be toldyes.
I glanced at the open-air dance floor. It was empty for now, waiting for someone to break the ice. “Who says we need permission?” I said, grinning back at him.
Zach’s face lit up in an instant.
I met Matt’s gaze as he spoke to Margot, pulling him from the conversation for half a second as he followed Zach’s pleading eyes toward the dance floor and chuckled. “I would lovenothingmore than for you to make a scene with my son,” he said simply, his lips twitching up at the corner.
That was all the encouragement we needed.
Zach and I marched together onto the floor, hand in hand, my eyes glued to nothing but him. It was easier when I thought about it less as a bold thing I was doing to get under Ryan and Lauren’s skin and more as something I wanted to dofor Zach, and the moment his gaze met mine, I spun him once right as the music started.
And the music wasperfect.
The tempo picked right up, something jazzy and old-school, and Zach let loose like he was born for both the dance floor and annoying the bride and groom.
People started watching — not necessarily in a bad way. But he got attention, and I couldfeelthe tension leaking out of me as he giggled and laughed and pulled me out of my uptight bubble that had formed from sheer stress alone.
A few of the guests clapped in time with the music as I tried to keep up with him. One of the groomsmen laughed and shouted encouragement at Zach from the sidelines. Someone made awhoopsound when I dropped into a silly, low move, andZach mirrored me with a fall-and-roll that looked more like he was under fire from snipers than dancing, but it wasadorable.
Matt watched from his seat at a table back from the floor, one arm draped across the back of his chair and his mouth curled in a smile he didn’t even try to hide. It was there again — the softness in his eyes he’d had last night, the look of almost-vulnerability he’d had when he’d said,“You were chaos in a yellow sundress.”
I had to force myself to look away.
Eventually, Zach stumbled back to the table, breathless and flushed, flopping against Matt’s chest when he pulled him into his lap like a tired puppy. He zonked out completely not long after, head tucked up against the lapel of Matt’s suit jacket, his fingers wrapped loosely around Matt’s tie.
Watching them like that — Matt’s hand resting protectively on his son’s back, his eyes flicking to me every so often between gentle kisses on top of Zach’s head or sipping his champagne — forced something open in my chest.
Not a wound. Something far more stupid than that.
It was awant.
“Thought he took a nap earlier,” I chuckled lightly, tapping the side of Matt’s shoe with my own.
He rolled his eyes, but there wasn’t any real irritation behind them. “So did I.”
