Page 112 of When Stars Collide
“She is the bride, and it is her wedding.”
“Your logic never ceases to amaze me.”
“There’s my Mena.” His lips found mine in the dark, leaving a soft, all-too-brief kiss. “If all goes well, I should be flying into Roanoke Friday evening.”
Reaching up, I caressed his cheek. His stubble scratched the back of my hand like sandpaper. “Okay.”
“Are you sure you’re all right? The brevity in your responses lately has been unlike you.”
“I’m okay. I promise.”
“All right, if you say so.” His lips traveled up to my forehead, where they lingered longer than they had on my lips, perhaps waiting for me to expand upon my answer. Sensing that this exposition wasn’t going to be forthcoming, he rolled over. The warmth of his lips leaving my skin brought about an internal groan I was relieved he couldn’t hear.
“Goodnight, Mena.”
“Goodnight, Phin.”
I was thankful for the darkness. It hid the tears falling down my face well. The truth was I wasn’t okay, and it wouldn’t require an inordinate amount of perception for someone to see that. For the last month, all I could think about was my conversation-turned-fight with Peter, and his admission to me. No matter how hard I tried to push it away and live my life, that night kept coming back.
The pain and sincerity in his eyes.
The warmth of his body against mine when he hugged me at the funeral.
No, Mena. No.
I shook my head. This wasn’t fair. Not to me; certainly not to Phineas. In one night, Peter had wrecked the months of progress I’d made putting our relationship behind me.
I had done that, right? Put the relationship behind me? I thought I had.
But as I lay next to Phineas, thoughts of Peter flooded through my brain as swiftly as the tears cascaded down my cheeks, and I realized just how wrong I’d been.
*****
“Please tell me there were no shirts made for the pre-rehearsal rehearsal dinner or the rehearsal, itself.” I greeted Elle, Kirsten, and Violet outside of Geno’s, the Italian restaurant Elle and Luke selected to host their rehearsal dinner. One of Luke’s groomsmen, Salvatore, was expected back at the hospital immediately following the rehearsal tomorrow to finish his shift. To keep the wedding party together, a decision was made to have the rehearsal dinner the day before the rehearsal.
“Elle said no more shirts,” Violet lamented.
“Attack of Bridezilla, eh?” I nudged Elle, who shook her head.
“I can change my mind, you know. I’m sure Violet has the print shop on speed dial,” she replied.
“Why do I feel personally attacked here?” Violet asked.
“Well, do you, or don’t you?” Kirsten added.
“Maybe,” she muttered.
Not wasting anymore time, Elle opened the door to Geno’s. “Let’s get inside. Everyone’s waiting for us.”
“Everyone?” I asked, my stomach sinking.
“Yup.”
I purposely stayed behind the group as we walked into the Tuscan-style establishment, tastefully designed with a beamed ceiling and terracotta tile floor. Grape accents were displayed in the wall decor and etched into the furniture, adding to the overall ambiance. Quite expansive, it was much larger on the inside than it appeared on the outside, and I wondered as we walked past table after table, exactly where everyone was seated. My answer was found behind a set ofFrench doors in the back, opened by Elle to reveal a private room.
“Mena!” Jackson ran up to me the second I entered the room.
“Hey, Jack.” I crouched down to his level, throwing my arms around him.
