Page 15 of Gracefully Yours

I shook my head as I took another sip, thinking about how I’d run my fingers through her hair last night. What if I never got that chance again? “I don’t even know where to start.” How could I, with so much history?

“Tell her how you feel might be a good start.” He ran a hand through his dark blonde hair.

“What if it’s not that easy?”

“What if it is?” Matthew shook his head. “If you’d told me two years ago how happy I would be now, I would have never believed you.”

“But…”

“But she’s the best thing that ever happened to me.” He looked over at his redheaded girlfriend. “And I think you feel the same away about her.”

“She’s my best friend,” I said honestly.

Matthew slapped his hand on my back. “Then do what you have to do, man.” He got up, heading over to Noelle.

Was he right? Was it that simple?

I took one last sip of my wine before standing up and heading over to her. I couldn’t take this silence any longer.

She glared at me as I pulled her over into a corner by her wrist.

Taking her hand back, Charlotte crossed her arms over the top of her champagne colored-bridesmaid dress. It had a low neckline, and she must have worn some sort of contraption that pushed her tits up to the top, giving her the illusion of cleavage.

But more than that—she looked beautiful. They’d done some sort of pretty braid on the top half of her hair, and the rest was curled into loose blonde ringlets that draped against her pale skin.

“What?” she spoke in a hushed whisper as she whirled around on me.

“You know what.”

“Enlighten me.”

I leaned in close, enjoying the way her cheeks pinked from my proximity. I let my lips brush her ear as I whispered, “You look beautiful.”

She pushed me away. “Don’t do that. I told you… We can’t.”

Why not?My body wanted to scream. But I didn’t. “Charlotte. You can’t avoid me for the rest of the trip.”

She quirked an eyebrow. “Sure I can.” Her gaze was on anything but me, and I hated it.

“We slept together. It’s not like it was the end of the world.”

She looked around us, and mumbled something under her breath, what sounded a lot like, “Maybe not to you.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” She waved me off. “Look, we both agreed it meant nothing, okay? So I don’t know why we have to talk about it. I don’t want to hear about how you regret it, I don’t want to talk about how it ruined everything—”

“I don’t. And itdidn’t.” I didn’t regret it. And it hadn’t ruined everything. Because I wouldn’t let it.

She blinked. “What?”

I massaged my forehead, trying to figure out how. “You have no idea, do you?”

“No idea about what?” She asked, tilting her head as she watched me.

“Never mind. Forget it.” I sighed, loosening my grip on her. “I just… I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me,” she said, voice quiet.

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