32. Corey

“Ican’t believe she’s here,” Mila hisses. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Tell us what?” Grey asks as he runs his thumb along the seam of drywall in the living room.

“That he’s seeing the girl from the beach,” Mila whispers.

Grey shakes his head. “What girl?”

“Fallon. She’s the girl from the bar that Corey was into.”

Grey’s eyebrows soar high on his forehead before he releases an amused laugh. “Seriously?”

Mila nods.

“Who is she?” Hudson asks, thoroughly confused.

“My friend,” I clarify before the other two can say anything Fallon might overhear.

Grey clears his throat. “His good friend.”

My glare silences him and has him raising both hands.

“So, are you guys dating? Are you together? What’s going on?” Mila asks. “Why didn’t you tell us you’re seeing her?”

“Because we’re just friends. We’re working on a school project together.”

Mila shakes her head, refusing my answer. “I don’t understand. I thought you liked her?”

I swallow, unable to deny the claim.

“Did you say no, or did she?” Mila asks, refusing to let the topic go or maybe seeing straight through my bullshit.

“No one said no.”

She stares at me. “Do you need us to draw you a roadmap, then, or what?”

I scoff. “Because you guys figured your shit out so quickly?” I point between her and Grey.

Mila narrows her eyes with disbelief. “He was a drill sergeant before admitting he had feelings for me.”

Grey rolls his eyes. “Everyone else knew.”

Hudson merely nods because we did. We all knew Grey was into Mila long before she realized it.

It’s after midnight when we’re finally done and have cleaned up the mess.

“Do you have an old towel I could borrow?” Fallon asks Hannah as we gather around the door to leave.

Katie raises a curious brow, but Hannah doesn’t question the strange request. She disappears for only a minute before returning with a folded bath towel.

“Thanks,” Fallon says.

“It’s the least we can do,” Hannah tells her.

“Yeah, thanks for helping tonight,” Nolan says. “I owe you. Let me know whenever you’re ready to cash in a favor.”

“It was no problem.” Fallon offers a tight smile before everyone exchanges a quick goodbye for plans to meet again tomorrow afternoon.

When we reach my truck, Fallon spreads the towel on her seat.

“What are you doing?”

“This stuff won’t come off.” She plunks down and fastens her seat belt before leaning her head back, the first sign of exhaustion she’s shown all night. I know because I watch her like a cornerback, constant and unrelenting.

“Are you hungry?” I ask.

She shakes her head. “No. I’m just tired.”

The late hour has traffic nonexistent, and we arrive back to the dorm in record timing, a detail I regret because I have so damn much to say to her and am grossly underprepared.

“Fallon, I was an ass, and I’m sorry. I understand why you’re working so hard and why shit is so complicated with Kelly. I just hate the idea of anyone tearing you down. I don’t know how or what to…” I run a hand over the back of my neck, struggling to find the right words and admit to us both what she means to me.

“It’s okay,” she says when I take too long to tack on the words that I hate how much I want her, how it fucking terrifies me how much I want her near, especially when we’re pussyfooting around our feelings, and where this is going. “Don’t sweat it.” She flashes a quick grin and gets out of my truck before I can object.

I follow her across the lot and up to the third floor, where every damn part of me insists on following and staying with her because I already know I won’t see her tomorrow, and that’s too damn long to be apart.

“I’ll talk to you Sunday.”

I want her to hesitate. I want to brush a kiss on her forehead or hold her, something that reminds us that our friendship is a farce and that we hate being apart. But she turns and disappears down the hall without looking back.

“Where’s Fallon?” Hannah asks, poking the mud we just finished mixing. “It doesn’t look right. Hers was thinner. It was the texture of that frosting Hadley made for that red velvet cake.”

“Red velvet cake,” Palmer clasps a hand to his stomach and groans.

“She said we don’t want it too thin, or it will crack,” Grey says, inspecting the mud with Hannah.

Hudson runs a hand through his hair, biting back the agitation visible in his flexed shoulders. Everyone’s mood is shot to hell tonight. “Did you mix it well enough?”

“Can we text Fallon and send her a picture?” Hannah asks. “We don’t want to mess this up again.”

Mila gives her a pointed stare. “We did it yesterday. We can do it again.”

“Where’s Fallon?” Katie asks.

“At a wedding rehearsal,” I say, grabbing one of the knives as they all glance at me with varying degrees of pity and concern.

I take a deep breath through my nose, but my lungs still feel empty. This day is guaranteed to be hell.

Selfishly, my dread for Adelaide’s wedding increased by three hundred percent after last night’s rehearsal and dinner. Not only was heartbreak visible in Lexie’s gaze and lowered shoulders, but it was also the first time I’d seen Tobias in seven months, and Chrissy was there to witness our strange reunion.

Lexie grabs another glass of champagne and swallows the drink in one gulp. I’ve lost track of how many she’s had, but her glassy-eyed expression tells me it’s too many.

An hour ago, she was tasked with exchanging love notes and gifts for the bride and groom. Adelaide gave Asher an expensive watch that was made from the same wine barrel they’d drank from on a trip to Sonoma, and he gifted her a pair of diamond earrings that matched her engagement ring. When Lexie’s eyes welled with tears, I knew it wasn’t due to joy or the romantic gesture like Aunt Janice’s or a couple of the other bridesmaids.

“Here,” I say, shoving a granola bar into her hand. “You need to eat something.”

Lexie doesn’t even look at the snack before discarding it on the table. She swipes at her hair, which is its natural golden hue today, without any of the fun and bright colors she often adds. “Why’s it so hot in here?” She glances at the ceiling and then the walls, like an answer will become apparent, and then nails her stare on me. “You should wear lipstick more often. I can’t wait for Tobias to see you today. I hope he cries.” She grabs another drink.

I pick up the discarded granola bar and tear it open before lifting it toward her mouth. There’s a difference between wishful thinking and delusion, and the champagne is quickly tipping my best friend into the latter. “We don’t care about the Davies brothers,” I remind her, including Asher into the mix.

She takes a large bite, chewing as her gaze goes unfocused.

“Why are you eating?” Quinn squawks as she storms into the room, followed by three other bridesmaids.

“Because carbs are amazing. You should try them sometime,” Lexie says before leaning forward and taking another bite. There are sixteen of us bridesmaids, plus Aunt Janice, the wedding planner, her assistant, a photographer, and two makeup artists filling the room, allowing our conversation and Lexie’s slurred speech to go largely unnoticed, but Quinn swings her accusing gaze to me. Her red hair is a tamer hue today, and her makeup and hair are both flawless. She looks like a classy pinup model, and I already know my brothers and every unmarried groomsman will be flirting with her. She does, too.

“Is she drunk?”

Lexie spears a finger in the air. “Tipsy.” She takes another bite. “Not tipsy enough.”

Aunt Janice will bury us with disappointing looks before Adelaide kills us if Lexie trips or staggers down the aisle.

The two bridesmaids exchange snickers and loaded looks, reminding me too much of the girls on my soccer team.

“I’ll handle it,” I say, taking Lexie’s hand and tugging her to follow me.

She sways and has to grasp the back of a chair to maintain her balance. I teeter on my heels.

Quinn glares. “You have twenty minutes.”

I escape with Lexie out the back door that leads into one of the many gardens of the manor. We weave through the maze of standing tables adorned with blush-colored tablecloths and elegant vases filled with white roses. The protective part of me wants to usher Lexie into my car and drive us as far away from here as we can get, but I know that despite my cousin”s eternal differences, Lexie would regret missing this day, whether by physical or mental absence.

The air is saturated and too warm. I link my arm through hers and lead her the three blocks to a Starbucks.

Cool air and the scent of freshly ground coffee beans greet us with a half-dozen set of eyes.

“You look like you’re headed somewhere important,” a man wearing shorts and a tee says as he gestures for us to go in front of him in line.

I thank him and smile at the barista before placing our order, knowing exactly what Lexie wants and adding an extra shot of espresso and the lemon bread she loves so much.

We sit at a small table that I wipe down, overly cautious that we don’t get a stain or single crumb on our dresses.

“Fallen,” the male barista who made our order calls out, butchering my name.

Lexie’s lips pucker, but I’m out of my seat and collecting our order before she can correct him.

I set a venti coffee in front of Lexie along with her lemon bread and grab my mocha and water. The first sip of coffee eases the slight ache between my temples, but I know it’s water I need to help after the grueling practice this morning in the intensifying North Carolina heat. I gulp down half my water, giving my cousin a moment with her thoughts as she tears off pieces of lemon bread.

Once finished, Lexie stirs the whipped cream into her iced coffee before looking at me. “Are you going to give me a pep talk? Tell me I’m too good for Asher, and he’s not the right person for me?”

“That sounds like solid advice to start off with. What else should I tell you?”

She rolls her eyes, and I can’t hold back my smirk before reaching across the table, setting my hand on hers, and gently squeezing her fingers.

“I hate that you’re hurting. I wish you knew now that he doesn’t deserve you and never has—never will. Eventually, you will,” I assure her. “Adelaide will be a pretty accessory in his life rather than ever being a focal point, just like I was for Tobias.”

Her deep breath has her neck and the space surrounding her clavicle hollowing before she places a hand over her chest and gently massages as though trying to soothe her heart.

I grip the hand I’m holding a little tighter. “You’re going to meet the right guy—the guy you’re supposed to be with, and when you do, it won’t include a year of anguish and uncertainty because he’s going to see you and know exactly how damn lucky he is, and he won’t dare let you slip through his fingers.”

She takes another deep breath. “We should go back before Adelaide realizes we’re missing.”

I get a water refill before we return to the manor. It’s a gorgeous, historic building that the downtown area of Oleander Springs has built up around, allowing it to remain tucked into its own private oasis where gardens and water fountains make you forget you’re in the city. We stop and stare at what will be the dance floor. Last night, the tule and lights made the space look magical and romantic. The addition of flowers and greenery today makes it breathtaking.

My thoughts stray to Corey, and I wonder where he is and what he’s doing tonight. I hate the distance that’s built between us over the past week, and loathe that I still catch myself feeling unworthy of him because of scars he didn’t inflict.

“If Tobias tries to talk to you tonight, just let me know, and I’ll happily pour my drink down his crotch.” Lexie sips her iced coffee.

I grin and squeeze her hand again before leading her straight into our own personal hellscape.

“Everyone’s here. Let’s line up.” Birdie, the wedding planner, has a thick, syrupy Southern accent and calls us all varying names with honey at the beginning: honey pot, honey bun, honey muffin. “There now.” She straightens something on Quinn’s dress that has the maid of honor glaring.

I stifle a smirk, but it fades nearly instantly as the procession music begins, sending a wave of nerves over my flushed skin. I’d like to hike up my dress and allow my legs to breathe, but instead, I glance at the groomsman I’m paired with to walk down the aisle. I know nothing about him besides his name and the fact that he smells like liquor.

All the groomsmen do, including Tobias, who is at the front of the line beside Lexie, whose misery seems to be taking a backseat to her anger if her dagger eyes pinned to my ex are any indication.

“Honey bunches, be sure you don’t lock your knees, okay?” Birdie looks at me, making me suddenly think far too hard about how I’m standing and how I’m supposed to be standing.

Tobias glances back, and our gazes tangle for a second too long.

I refuse to scowl or react. I’m done giving him my thoughts or even reactions. Instead, I tuck my hand into the crook of the stranger’s arm beside me and steel myself for the unfamiliar audience.

We’re the fifth couple to walk down the aisle, and with every step, I remind myself not to lock my knees as I take in the tulle, flowers, and hundreds of guests that fill the space, all turned to watch us.

A shrill whistle has my cheeks heating and the crowd shifting to see who made the noise. I don’t need to look to know it was Mason, but it helps me pinpoint where my family is in the masses in time to see our mom hush him.

When we reach the front, and I part from the groomsman, his cologne and the faint scent of tequila shadow me as I join the other bridesmaids. I wish I could slip forward and hold Lexie’s hand, but instead, I clutch my small bouquet of white roses and focus my attention on my mom, who has her camera raised, taking pictures.

As the song changes and the guests all stand, my heart aches for Lexie, knowing she’s been trying to come to terms with this moment for the past six months, and she’s now forced to be front and center for it all.