Page 18 of Nothing Breaks Like A Heart

"It's time," Jeanette said, interrupting our conversation as Jamie and Harper joined us. Jeanette's assistant handed us our bouquets, and as I glanced down at the blue forget-me-nots, I wished again that my mother was here. But she wasn't, and all I could do was remember some of her last words to me. She'd wanted to make sure I would be okay. And she'd grabbed my hand with more strength than she'd had in weeks.I do not want you to mourn me for long, my sweet girl. I want you to be happy and to live a full and long life. I want you to experience everything. You deserve nothing less than all of life's blessings. Promise me you won't stay inside, that you won't linger in sadness. I want you to remember me with a smile.

I blinked away tears at the memory. I hadn't known at the time that those would be her last words, but I'd given her the promise she'd wanted. She'd passed away less than an hour later.

Despite my promise, I had mourned her. I had lingered in the sadness. But I really did want to be happy, and Andrew had shown me I could be, and I would be. I put a smile on my face as Victor offered me his arm, and we moved to the edge of the staging area as Harper and Jamie started their walk toward the petal-strewn white runway placed between the chairs.

And then it was our turn. I was happy to have Victor's steadying presence by my side as our every step was captured by a barrage of cameras, shooting over and over again as I tried to smile with the joy, love, and giddy excitement that the campaign demanded and also what my husband-to-be deserved.

I couldn't let the chaotic circus that was following us around get in the way of what was important, so when our gazes finally met, I looked only at him. And when we took each other's hands, everyone else faded away. I wasn't marrying them; I was marrying him. This man would be my husband, my future, and I was not turning back or looking back. Andrew had never let me down, and he was about to promise that he never would.

I'd thought it would feel different after we exchanged vows, but the ceremony, though perfect on the surface, felt like a blur. Sunset, picture-perfect kisses and endless flashes of cameras later, Andrew and I found ourselves taking more photos and charming our way through the cocktail hour.

At least the setting was beautiful. The terrace where the reception began was lined with flickering lanterns, and the ocean glowed under the final streaks of twilight. The salty breeze carried the hum of conversations and the gentle clink of champagne flutes, mingling with soft classical music from a string quartet.

We were introduced to dozens of people, including the influencers and traditional press, who'd been invited by either Bennett or Megan. The Carringtons had also invited friends and business associates, all of whom wanted to meet us. After the sixth or seventh person, I stopped trying to remember everyone's name or even what I'd said to them. Because this kind of social networking was not what I was good at.

Andrew, however, was flawless. He recounted our love story with such precision and emotion that it even tugged at my heart, and I’d lived it.

"The first time I saw her," he told one wide-eyed blogger, "was in the middle of a fire. I didn’t think either of us would make it out alive. And then...I saw her again in the hospital the next morning. Fate had handed me a second chance." He squeezed my hand and smiled at me like I was the center of his world. "I knew then how important she was going to be to me. And here we are."

That blogger had eaten up the story, enchanted by our fairy-tale ending, and she wasn't alone. It certainly proved that almost everyone could be moved by a good love story.

By the time we sat down for dinner with our bridal party, I was grateful for the break. The long table was set with candlelight and flowers, the food artfully plated and delicious, but I barely touched it. Harper was seated on the other side of me next to Jamie and Brad, and none of them seemed particularly chatty. Andrew was having a bit more fun conversing with Colin, Jay, and Dana, but I didn't bother trying to get into their conversation. I was a little tired of talking, and I knew there was more to come so I might as well enjoy the momentary quiet.

The toasts that followed our meal were rehearsed and impersonal, carefully scripted by Megan’s marketing team. Harper and Jamie delivered their remarks with little emotion, keeping things lighthearted and definitely staying on script.

Jay did add some improvisation, sharing an anecdote about Andrew declaring he was in love with me after our first date. Andrew squeezed my hand as Jay told that story, his thumb brushing over mine, and I felt the connection I’d been searching for off and on all day. Andrew was still here, still mine. And for now, that had to be enough.

Our first dance went off without a hitch. Andrew’s hands were steady on my waist, his gaze focused entirely on me as we swayed to the soft strains of a jazz ballad. For those few minutes, it felt like we were the only two people in the world. But as the music shifted, the dance floor filled, and the whirlwind began again.

We changed partners often, mingling and spinning through a blur of family and friends. Harper danced with Colin, who passed her off to me, while Andrew laughed with Jamie. I lost track of time until my feet ached and my smile felt stuck in place. And then, when I finally paused to catch my breath, I saw them.

Andrew and Allison.

They were dancing to a slow song, and they were close. Her hand lingered on his shoulder, her eyes locked on his, and the way she smiled at him reminded me of the photo I’d seen of them—proof that there had been something between them. Perhaps something that still lingered now, if only on her side.

I turned away, the sight bothering me more than I cared to admit. The room suddenly felt too warm, too crowded. I slipped quietly out of the reception and down the hallway to the private restroom reserved for me and the bridesmaids, my heels clicking softly against the polished floor.

Harper was standing in front of the mirror reapplying her makeup.

As our gazes met, she raised a brow. "Everything okay, Lauren?"

"Yes. I'm just hot. I couldn't get off the dance floor."

"It's a fun party," she said as she dabbed at her face. "You might want to put on some lip gloss. Jeanette put our things in that closet."

I walked over to the closet and found my makeup bag on a shelf. I brought it back in front of the mirror and added some color to my lips.

"That's better," Harper said, giving me a thoughtful look.

"It is."

"What can you tell me about Colin, Lauren? Do you know anything about him?"

"Not much. Andrew said they met in college, and Colin joined him in his firm last year. According to Andrew, Colin is a very good salesman."

"I'm almost sold," Harper said with a laugh. "Although, he gives off serious serial-dater vibes. Not that I necessarily want anything more than a good time. My bruised heart wouldn't mind a little break."

"I'll see if I can get more information from Andrew."

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