Page 75 of Hang the Moon
Nothing she’d ever heard about Seattle had done the place justice. Not even pictures could capture the city in its glory. Blue skies streaked with white clouds served as a backdrop for the skyscrapers, mountains peeking out to the right. Everything was green—the trees, the grass—all thanks to the rain she didn’t mind as much as she’d first thought she would. Thewhole city felt vibrant and alive in a way no place she’d ever lived before had.
Saying goodbye to Seattle might be the hardest thing she’d ever done. So hard, she was already dreading it, and she wasn’t even gone yet.
“Is my tie crooked?” Brendon fidgeted with the hot-pink bow tie knotted at his throat. “It feels crooked.”
She had to swallow fast before she spewed champagne across the table. “It’s not crooked, it’s completely lopsided. Come here.”
He leaned forward, baring his throat, allowing her to adjust his bow tie, all the while staring down at her from beneath his coppery lashes. Fingers trembling ever so subtly, she smoothed the satin, then ran her hands along his broad shoulders, brushing away imaginary lint. A poor excuse to keep touching him.
Brendon was currently sporting the most dapper outfit she’d ever seen him in: a sharp-looking navy suit tailored to perfection—though he’d ditched the jacket after the ceremony—a white button-down, a pink tie, and polished brown loafers. His auburn hair was combed neatly back, save for one rogue strand that kept curling at his temple.
For some reason, probably because this was a wedding, Annie had a flashback to when she was five, maybe six, and had tagged along with Mom to the bakery to put in the order for Dad’s birthday cake. In the center of the shop had been a display of the most gorgeous wedding cakes Annie had ever seen. Multitiered and covered in fondant and delicate sugar flowers, those cakes had captivated her. When no one was looking, Annie had swiped her finger through the frosting, dying for just onetaste. Icing-laden finger poised an inch in front of her mouth, she’d frozen when the woman working behind the counter had wagged a finger, scolding her with a severe frown that had left Annie quaking.
Brendon was like one of those cakes. Delicious looking, tempting, completely off-limits if she knew what was good for her.
“There.” She dropped her hands back to her lap, a safe distance away. “All better.”
Brendon offered her a crooked smile and reached for his glass of water, draining half of it in one chug.
She curled her fingers around the taut muscles of his forearms, squeezing gently. Her hands had a mind of their own, apparently having missed the wholeno-touchymemo. “Are you okay? You’re looking a little... peaky.”
During the ceremony, he’d shed a few happy tears, the vows even choking her up a little, but afterward, during cocktail hour, he’d grown pale faced and fidgety. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why.
He set his water aside and grabbed his champagne, tipping it back and coughing. “Ah, bubbles.” He pinched his nose, making her laugh. “I’m supposed to give a speech.” He patted the breast pocket of his suit. “I jotted a few notes down but now I’m second-guessing myself.”
“Just... speak from the heart? You’re amazing at that.”
A deep flush worked its way up his jaw, his skin matching his bow tie. She had the fiercest urge to press a kiss to the hinge of his strong jaw, feel his skin warm under her lips. “Thanks, Annie.”
He squeezed her knee, his palm hot against the skin left bare by her dress. The familiarity of the gesture made her breath hitch, and a stupid part of her wanted to trap his hand between her thighs, to see what he’d do. If the flush would creep higher up his face, bleed into his hairline, or if he’d smirk and slide his hand even higher.
She hadn’t brought any clothes to Seattle that were formal enough for a wedding, even an outdoor summer ceremony. Darcy had given her free rein in her closet, but the height difference made picking something out to borrow difficult. Darcy’s short dresses fell at an unflattering spot on her calves, chopping her off just below the knees. Her maxis drowned Annie, fabric dragging on the ground. She’d chosen the one dress that didn’t make her look like a little girl playing dress-up in her mom’s closet, a number that was probably tea-length on Darcy but fell to Annie’s ankles. The bodice was a little roomy, but because it was a halter, Annie hadn’t had a problem adjusting it so there’d be no accidental slippage. There was a deep slit up the side, the blush silk fluttering around her legs.
His hand lingered on her thigh, an embarrassingly breathy sigh escaping her lips when his thumb caressed the crease of her knee.
“Shit,” he swore under his breath, making her jump. This wasn’t the time or the place to be thinking about what Brendon’s face would look like if she grabbed his wrist and tugged it higher up her thigh beneath the privacy of the tablecloth.
Her sip of water did little to quench her thirst. “What’s wrong?”
Brendon stared across the room, his smile verging on a grimace. “Jian’s mother is gesturing for me.”
Annie followed his eyes. An older woman wearing a beautiful sapphire gown winked at Brendon.
“I think that’s your cue,” Annie said.
He stood stiffly, looking almost as petrified as he had when he’d climbed the stage for karaoke. “Wish me luck.”
Without thinking, she reached out, grabbing his hand. She squeezed his fingers, finding their clamminess adorable. “Good luck. I’ll be here when it’s over.”
He squeezed back and marched off toward the front of the room, where the groom’s mothers welcomed him with eager smiles.
“Your boyfriend seems nervous.”
It took her a minute to realize the woman sitting at the next table over was speaking to her.
“Oh, he’s not my—he’s just...” Annie sighed and laughed. Here it was, the first of many times where she would be forced to explain her relationship to Brendon. “My friend.”
A friend she was painfully attracted to, but a friend nonetheless.
