Page 31 of Heart Strings
“Help me with this, would you please?” Lark points to the open back of her short, ballet-pink dress. The state of this room looks like evidence of a crisis to me, but she grins beatifically.
I oblige, tugging the zipper up her lower back.
She casts a glance over her shoulder. “So, I noticed that you and Aidan weren’t at yoga…Interesting that you both disappeared.”
“Yeah, I kind of threw him off a bridge into the creek.”
“You didn’t.” Lark swivels to face me directly.
“Accidentally! There was this raven, and—”
“Forgive me for not believing that.”
I don’t want to tell her that I kissed Aidan, because nothing can come of it. And I definitely won’t be telling her that he nearly lost the Flannelly family claddagh ring to the creek.
“I felt so bad that I jumped in to pull him out. So I had to go back to my room and change.”
Something like vindication spreads across Lark’s face as she blots her lipstick.
“Uh-uh. Don’t do that.” I wag a finger. “It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Whatever you say.”
My phone chimes with the event reminder.
“You look beautiful. Time to go, Bridezilla,” I say affectionately.
We walk downstairs together. It’s just the rehearsal, but Lark crackles with anticipation beside me.
Aidan stands by the French doors leading out to the garden where the ceremony will take place. He’s delicious in a crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up exposing his tattooed forearms. While he’s still deep in conversation with Callum and the officiant, I take the opportunity to drink him in, but it doesn’t take him long to sense my attention. His aquamarine eyes pin me from across the room. Their intensity hasn’t wavered since our searing kiss.
If I knew what was good for me, I’d look away. But I haven’t been great at self-preservation since Aidan came back to town.
He’s pushed his damp hair off his forehead. As I walk closer, I can make outLOstamped against his skin.
“It didn’t wash off?” I whisper-yell, gesturing to the faded ink. I try to resist cracking a smile as he arranges some hair to cover the letters, but it’s stuck together in a wet clump that won’t photograph well.
“I’ve been marked,” Aidan says with amusement.
The scissors tattoo I’d glimpsed on the boat returns to my mind. Was I reading too much into the imagery of it about to cut through a knot?
“Come here.” I rake my fingers through his hair to separate the strands. Mirth twinkles in his eyes. He’s so damn pretty. “I have an exfoliating wash that might help scrub this off. I’ll give it to you later.”
“All right, everyone, here’s the run of show.” The wedding planner’s voice cuts through the rush of adrenaline brought byAidan’s silky strands between my fingers. She gives us an overview of the ceremony layout in the garden. A white aisle runner cuts through rows of slip-covered chairs, leading to an arch of willow branches that Saoirse and her assistant will adorn before the ceremony tomorrow. The planner props the doors open and directs Callum to wait at the end of the aisle with the officiant. Up next is Aunt Sharon. Then, the wedding party—including Aidan and me—and finally the bride will meet her groom. Easy enough.
“Okay, Best Man and Maid of Honor! You’re up,” the planner shouts from across the room. “Walk down the aisle together, please.”
Aidan offers his arm and I take it. Golden evening sunlight spills across his face as we step into the garden. Unlike the flirtatious race on the way to yoga, we easily match each other in an instinctual stride.
I lean gently into the sense of contentment when Aidan’s fingers rest atop mine. But I need to stand on my own two feet. Leaning on Aidan hurt me once before and I can’t—I won’t allow it to happen again.
My mom sits in one of the guest seats. Protectiveness surges in my chest as she coldly examines Aidan while we pass. This is why I don’t want her to know our history. He doesn’t seem to notice her silent judgment, but I’ve become attuned to it.
We take our places on the bride’s and groom’s sides of the aisle, but throughout the rehearsal, Aidan and I keep finding each other’s gazes. Saoirse and Deirdre, then Anvi and Rory take their turns down the aisle, then Lark begins the measured walk toward her groom. Of course, all eyes will be on the bride tomorrow, but for now, Aidan’s attention is on me alone. It feelslike I’ve stepped back in time, to that first gig I watched him play, when he stared at me the entire set.
Clapping, the wedding planner brings the ceremony portion of the rehearsal to a close. We reverse the procession, and it’s time for dinner in the formal garden.
Squared-off hedgerows and topiaries anchor the outdoor dining space composed of large round tables. Twinkly lights glow in strands overhead as the sun drifts below the horizon and the sky shifts to indigo twilight. A faint fragrance fills the air, courtesy of flowering vines snaking up the castle’s exterior wall.
