Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79932 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Aspen sat relaxed in her chair near the aisle and gave me an excited little wave that made my heart do a strange flip as I waved back and then winked at her.
“Wait,” Weston said as we reached our designated spots on the platform. “Isn't that the same girl from the poker game last week?”
“The same,” Asher said, his gaze falling to Aspen. Gareth and Ethan and Weston followed his line of sight seconds later.
“Let's not all stare at once, boys,” I said, rolling my eyes.
To Aspen’s credit, she didn't flinch under the stares of my friends. Instead, she sat up a little straighter, giving them all a friendly wave and smile.
My friends focused on me, looks of utter confusion dancing over their faces.
“That's the same girl,” Weston said.
“Yes,” I said. “We've established that.”
Music sounded from the small string quartet set up in the corner of the event hall. The double doors of the room swung open, and Brynn’s bridesmaids started walking down the aisle, queueing that this wedding had officially and finally started.
“You brought the same random date to my wedding?” Weston asked, his voice now lowered to where just the five of us could hear him.
I kept my face even and my hands relaxed at my sides as I nodded to each of the bridesmaids as they came and took their places across from us on the platform.
“My girlfriend,” I gently reminded him. “Aspen.”
“Your girlfriend,” he said but it sounded more like a question. “She's actually your girlfriend?”
“Yes,” I whispered. “I told you that last week. I don't know why you're struggling now.”
“It's just…” He struggled to speak.
“You don’t do girlfriends,” Gareth said in a no-nonsense tone that was just a little too loud for what was going on right now.
“This doesn't seem like the time for this conversation,” I whispered. “Maybe we should talk about my relationship habits and your opinion about them later?”
“This conversation is the only thing keeping me from racing down the aisle and hurrying this thing up. I want Brynn—”
“Pretty sure you have her,” I whispered, nodding toward the aisle.
Weston's eyes widened as he snapped his gaze toward the open double doors and his soon-to-be-wife as she took the first step down the aisle.
Everything about his demeanor shifted.
One second, he'd been aloof and giving me shit. But now?
The man looked like he was unraveling with each step Brynn took toward him. He only had eyes for her, and if I wasn't seeing things, I swore they were glittering with what looked a lot like happy tears.
The sight of my friend completely reduced to a speechless love-struck man had my chest tightening, and I swallowed hard.
Brynn finally made it to her spot in front of Weston, and there was no denying how gorgeous she looked. Pride swelled in my chest as the officiate started the processions. Two of my best friends were finally getting married after years of dancing around their feelings for each other.
I’m certain Ethan and I had a bet ten years ago that this would happen, but I couldn't remember the stakes.
And it didn't matter.
What mattered is that they had finally done what we all knew they wanted to do.
I turned around, glancing over my shoulder at Asher, Ethan, and Gareth, finding them smiling just as hard as I was. As much shit as we loved to give Wes over how long it took to finally acknowledge his feelings for his best friend, we couldn’t be prouder of him. There was no one better suited for him, and now they were getting to start the beginning of their happily ever after together.
As the officiate continued with the standard ceremonial rituals, I couldn't help but wonder how my two friends made it look so easy? The act of choosing a partner to be with for the rest of forever didn't seem like an easy decision to make. I mean, honestly, how did they know that in four months they'd still want to hang out with each other, let alone sleep together? How did they know that one or the other wouldn't leave after growing bored with the antics that came with such a high-profile lifestyle like we lived? How could they trust the other person to keep their deepest, darkest secrets, the small confessions one made to such a person in the middle of the night when doubt and fear took over every other emotion?
Those types of confessions I'd always kept to myself, never even burdening my sister with some of the shit that crept up in my head.
It had always been me.
Ever since my parents passed away and I’d inherited the family empire, entrusted to keep it running and growing like it should. Just me. It’d been me who’d taken care of my teenage sister, comforted her during the grieving process, was strong for her during the more intense parts of healing, while never once letting her see how worried I was about failing. About taking what our parents had so graciously left us and ruining it.