Page 72 of Closer

“Oh please, you’re not jinxed.” I adjust my cufflinks. “Mary’s got you wrapped around her little finger, and you fucking love it.”

Connor shoots me a glare. “Like you’re one to talk. When’s the last time you even had a real girlfriend?”

I bristle at that. He’s not wrong, but fuck if I’ll admit it. “I don’t do girlfriends. You know that.”

“No, you do only one,” Brandon says.

“Heads up, guys. Looks like the bride’s ready,” Connor says.

The music swells, and everyone stands, turning towards the entrance. Mary and Lil glide in first, beaming with a bouquet in hand.

Lil.

She’s a vision in pale blue, the color making her eyes shine. Our gazes lock, and her steps falter for the barest second before she recovers.

It’s like she walks toward me. Like it’s our wedding and—

She looks away, and the spell is broken. Reality comes crashing back in, and I remember where I am. Who I am. The man who fucked up the best thing that ever happened to him.

Lil reaches the end of the aisle and moves beside Mary, who gives her a reassuring nudge. But she keeps her gaze lowered, refusing to meet mine. As if looking at me will undo the fragile composure she’s managed to retain.

Next comes Gemma, radiant on our father’s arm. She’s glowing, happiness practically emanating from her every pore. Elijah is looking at my sister like she hung the fucking moon. The officiant starts the ceremony, but the words fade into white noise.

Lil.

My eyes keep drifting to where she stands, the very picture of grace and beauty. She’s like a magnet pulling me in. I’m helpless to resist. She shifts, her gaze flicking to mine for the briefest of moments before darting away. But in that split second, I swear I see it. That flicker of longing, of ‘what if’. It’s gone as quickly as it came, but it’s enough to make my heart clench.

Fuck, I miss her. I miss us. What we had, what we could’ve been. If only I hadn’t been such a fucking idiot.

The officiant’s voice pulls me back to the present. “Elijah Milton, do you take Gemma Barron to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Elijah’s voice is strong, certain. “I do.”

“And Gemma Barron, do you take Elijah Milton to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

My sister’s eyes glisten. “I do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss the bride.”

Cheers erupt, and they kiss.

They deserve this. They fought for it, earned it.

I just wish I could say the same for myself.

The reception’s in full swing, music blaring, people talking and drinking. I’m at the head table, sandwiched between Brandon and Connor. Lil’s further down, between Mary and some cousin of Elijah’s I don’t recognize.

I down my whiskey, the burn a welcome distraction from the thoughts swirling in my head. From her.

“Easy there, tiger.” Brandon claps me on the shoulder. “Pace yourself. Night’s still young.”

I grunt in response, signaling the waiter for another. He obliges, and I take a long pull, relishing the way it scorches my throat.

“Bash,” Connor says. “You good, man?”

“Peachy,” I mutter, my gaze drifting back to Lil. She’s laughing at something Mary said, her head thrown back, exposing the long column of her throat. My fingers tighten around the glass.

Fuck, I want her. I want to march over there, throw her over my shoulder, and carry her off to some dark corner where I can—

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