Page 72 of The First Best Man

But every minute I spend with her makes me want to spend the next minute with her, too. And the next. And so on.

I don’t know if I’m the luckiest bastard on the planet, or the most cursed. The first time I develop strong feelings for a woman, and it’s God damn impossible.

Isn’t it?

I pause for a short break, my heart hammering inmy chest and my lungs seizing, only to find myself standing before the large field of Bush Monkey flowers Kate brought me to on that first day. The large swath of brilliant color brings a smile to my face as I remember her devious prank, convincing me we were looking for actual monkeys. Her laughter when she let the cat out of the bag about our true objective.

The way her dark eyes sparkled with honey highlights.

The way the sun kissed her tanned skin and the wind blew her curly hair across her forehead.

She’s beautiful on the outside with a sparkling diamond for a heart. I’ve never met anyone like her, and I likely never will again. Kate Reid is one of a kind.

How will I let her go?

Arching my back to stretch out my spine, I turn and head back the way I came, jogging at a slower pace to keep my heartrate steady and even. As I reach the edge of town, I see more activity than the first time I ran through. Shopkeepers are opening their doors and waving to each other. Owners are walking their dogs on the green grass of the midtown square. Golf carts glide to and fro, drivers pausing to chat with each other on this fine Sunday morning.

I wave at Miss Ginny as I pass the Errant Heart, and she waves back with the newspaper she stepped outside to grab off the porch. Townsfolk call me by name, shouting out greetings as I pass. I don’t even know who half of them are.

But that’s the beauty of this island. This town.

As I turn the corner and head in the direction of Kate’s house, I set my jaw and pump my legs faster.

I know what I want. What I have to do.

It’s not going to be easy, but the best things in life––the things that arereallyworth it––rarely are.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Kate

When I wake up,I’m alone. I lift my head and search the space for Tucker, but he’s nowhere in sight. Dropping my head back to the pillow, I strain my ears, but the only sound I hear is the ticking of the large wall clock in the kitchen.

I really am alone. Something cracks in my chest, and I have the sudden urge to cry.

“No,” I say, sniffing against the burn in my sinuses.

I need to whip myself into shape. Tucker probably just went home––I mean, to the B&B––to shower and change before Miss Ginny caught him sneaking back in with yesterday’s clothes on.

And so what if he didn’t wake me to say goodbye? I’m a big girl. I don’t need constant reassurance.

Sitting up, I slide off the bed to land on my feet. Grabbing a thin robe from my closet, I cover my naked body and tie the belt with a little more force than necessary.Then I take a deep breath and force myself to smile.

It’s Penny’s wedding day, and I refuse to bring her down with my shit. I’m going to be the brightest, happiest maid of honor this world’s ever seen. Penny deserves that, at the very least, and I’m going to give it to her.

Besides, this is totally normal. I’ve always woken up alone. Tucker and I had an amazing night together, sure, but that doesn’t mean he needs to stick around to baby me in the morning. Again, I’m a big girl. An adult. A big adult?

“Ugh,” I say as I leave the room and head for the kitchen.

It’s fine. I’m fine. Everything is fine.

The scent of coffee fills my nostrils first, then my eyes land on the sheet of paper on the counter. Walking over, I pick it up and read it.

My forced smile settles into a more natural one as I read Tucker’s note. He didn’t sneak out on me. He went for a run, but not before making me a pot of coffee and leaving a note.

“Thoughtful,” I murmur to myself, setting the note down and moving to the pot to pour myself some coffee.

Once I’ve doctored it up the way I like it and taken my first sip, I move back to the note and pick it up to read it again.

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