Page 29 of A Little Crush
11
RORY
She looks beautiful. Ophelia. Myalmostsister-in-law. And Maverick looks handsome as ever in his tux. It’s dark and fitted and makes him look like a prince. Tears gather in my eyes as I imagine my other brother beside him. He’d be smiling, too. I know it. My mouth forms a small ‘o’, and I let out a quiet breath in an attempt not to lose my shit. It’s hard, though. Almost impossible. I wasn’t nicknamed Squeaks for nothing, and I’m pretty sure this moment would cue the waterworks even if you have a heart of stone, so cut me some slack.
“You ready?” Jax asks beside me.
I peek up at him, biting my bottom lip to keep from bawling like a baby because now isnotthe time.
We haven’t spoken since the bachelorette party, and honestly, it’s a good thing. I haven’t even needed to lie to him about the wholeDodger’s my boyfriendand stuff. Even the wedding preparations were enough to distract me from my impending—and much dreaded—walk down the aisle with Jax by my side. But now, here we are. And he looks good. Really good. His dark hair is pushed back, and his green eyesare lighter than normal. More of a forest green instead of a dark olive color. Or maybe it’s the afternoon sunshine. Not that it matters. Honestly, it isn’t fair. How, even when I close my eyes and pull up a perfect depiction oftheJaxon Thorne, he still manages to take my breath away. Annoyed, I pick at the edge of my cuticles and scan the crowd filled with familiar faces. The wedding coordinator quietly bustles around us at the back of the venue as the air fills with light anticipation while the audience quietly whispers in the main area. It’s time to get this party started. And for the first time in who knows how long, instead of dreading Jaxon’s presence, I’m almost grateful for it.
Almost.
My body trembles as I take his arm at the back of the venue, my fingertips tapping in a familiar pattern against his dark suit. I should stop, but I can’t help myself.
I miss my brother.
The music begins, and just like at the rehearsal, everyone pairs with their partners, waiting for the moment they’ll take their turn to walk down the aisle toward the husband-to-be, aka my big brother. Two by two, they start down the small path while the sun slips between the tree’s full branches, dappling everyone in little polka dots of light.
I heard the photographer bitching about the contrast, but I like it. It’s beautiful. And peaceful. And almost…cathartic, maybe. Like little kisses from heaven sent from Archer as he looks down from above.
“Rore?” Jax prods. “We’re almost up.”
With a slow nod, I turn my attention from the dappled light to the man beside me as he places his palm on top of my hand. I’m sure he can feel the way I’m shaking, but instead of asking if I’m okay—obviously, I’m a weeping mess—he gives my fingers a gentle squeeze and stands a little taller.
I’m grateful. For his strength. His stability. Bothmetaphorically and literally, thanks to my legs feeling like willow branches.
“I got you, Squeaks,” he promises, then guides me forward.
And in this moment? He does.
Three. Two. One.
Together, we step onto the path lined with friends and family. A few cast glances our way, but in general, we’re nothing but props, an appetizer before the main course. There are benefits to not being the bride at a wedding. No one cares about you. You’re just a body. And the lack of attention is much appreciated as I sniffle softly, using my free hand to dab at the corners of my eyes.
I really should’ve brought a tissue.
Keeping his hand on mine, Jaxon leads me toward the floral archway, squeezing me softly before removing his hand to dig in his pocket. My brows dip as I watch him pull something out. A crisp white hanky. Subtly, he sets it in my hand, then lets me go when we reach our destination.
I wonder what his wedding looked like. If his ex was a fan of flowers the same way Lia is. If he regrets proposing. I don’t know why. Jax should be the last thing on my mind, but I can’t help it.
“Canon in D Minor” plays, and everyone stands, turning their sights on a gorgeous Ophelia. Her lacy dress reaches the ground. It’s a beautiful champagne color that makes her pale skin look flawless and highlights her strawberry blonde hair. With a bouquet of calla lilies, and her parents, Theo and Blakely, on either side, she walks down the aisle, one sure step after another.
My mom sniffles from the front row, and my dad wraps his arm around her. Leaning her head against his shoulder, she peeks up at Maverick before her gaze slides to me.
“I love you,” she mouths.
Twisting the hanky in my hand, I mouth back, “Love you.”
Then, she shifts her focus to Ophelia, her new daughter and my new sister.
It’s a beautiful ceremony, somehow managing to make my heart feel heavier with grief yet light as air at the same time, and by the time they each say, “I do,” I’m not the only one blubbering like a baby. Even so, I wouldn’t have it any other away.
12
RORY
Is it hot in here? It feels hot in here. Scanning the venue, I fold my arms, unsure what to do or where to go. It seems everyone’s on the dance floor with their significant others, and Dodger’s MIA, which leaves me feeling like a fish out of water. When I spot my mom taking a breather at one of the tables near the back, I slip around a few white linen-covered tables, snatch a champagne flute from one of the caterers, and plop down on the closest seat.
