Page 90 of The Kiss Countdown

He walks away, and I’m left feeling small as I blink after him.

But really, what did I expect? That after he poured his heart out and asked me to stay, we’d exchange exuberant hellos like long-lost friends? No. Vincent is giving me exactly what I asked for, even if I regret it with every fiber of my being.

“Always” begins playing, and I fortify myself with a deep breath. Now is the time to focus on my job.

Mr. and Mrs. Rogers don’t need to be herded to their spots. They’re already standing hand in hand, ready to walk down the aisle, so I move out of the way toward the railing, careful not to get too close. I paste on my perfectly practiced smile and shoot them a thumbs-up, careful not to show the pain of what I lost.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

By the time Mr. and Mrs. Rogers are exchanging vows, my emotions are firmly under control.

“It’s been a beautiful thirty-five years,” Mrs. Rogers says. “And I am so, so thankful for my family. My beautiful daughters, Camille and Brianna, who have hearts for helping people. And my son Vincent. In case y’all haven’t heard, he’s an astronaut.” Laughter ripples through the crowd. “He’s brilliant, and I’m truly proud of him.” She looks up and fans her face to keep her tears from ruining her makeup. The effort is in vain, however, as they stream down her face. Not that it takes anything away from her beauty. “I’m so proud of all of you. And I just know Octavius is smiling down on us.”

There’s a knot in my throat. I hope Mrs. Rogers’s acknowledgment of Vincent’s career means their relationship is on the mend. I won’t be around to see it, but I wish them all the best.

The guests are dismissed to mingle and eat the mounds of mini lobster rolls, caprese kebabs, and stuffed mushrooms the caterers set out. I ensure cocktails are available, then find my way back to the deck where family pictures are being taken.

It’s that beautiful hour when the sun is beginning to set, casting a gold-and-purple glow in the sky that reflects off the sparkling water. I stop before I get too close, watching the photographer direct their poses. They’re taking a full-family photo with Mr. and Mrs. Rogers and their kids. I can’t take my eyes off Vincent. He looks so good in his fitted tan suit and white shirt, his skin tone providing the perfect canvas for the neutral colors.

They go from full family to Mrs. Rogers and the siblings, then Mr. Rogers and the siblings, then just the siblings.

I can probably find something else to oversee, but I don’t want to budge from this spot. Even if I do look like an unwanted outsider intruding on the family’s special moment.

Once the photographer has gotten all the photos, she invites the family to join their guests below. I affix a smile as they walk past, but something breaks inside me when Vincent doesn’t spare me a glance. I close my eyes once I hear their footsteps on the stairs. God, I just know I’ll be crying for months after this day is over.

Why did Mrs. Rogers agree to let me finish this event? Was it actually some sort of diabolical plan to get back at me for the role I played in lying to her? Maybe she somehow knew Vincent would be here and wanted to torture me by forcing me to spend time around the family I’m no longer welcome to be part of and the man I gave up.

“Are you okay? You don’t look so well.”

I’m broken out of my thoughts by a soft touch on my arm.

The photographer holds a black camera in her hand as she regards me. “Make sure you get something to eat before you pass out. I learned to stipulate in my contract long ago that a meal and break be provided. Yes, we’re here to provide a service, but we’re only human.”

I give her a weak smile. Food isn’t the answer to my problems, but I appreciate the concern. “Thanks. It’s just a bit of seasickness. Me and water aren’t exactly friends.”

She gives me another sympathetic pat on the arm before walking away, and I check the time on my phone. Still three hours before the night is over. One more hour until the boat sets off for a small cruise around Clear Lake. Everything is under control, so I could stay up here until it’s time to cut the cake. However, the need to see Vincent is like a tether pulling me downstairs. I find a spot in the corner, near a window, to post up and watch him. Here, with my dark clothes against the dark wood, I should blend in.

Contrary to his claim of not liking crowds or parties, Vincent is quite the social butterfly. In the span of ten minutes, he has conversations with six different people—yes, I’m counting. Each time he moves away from one person, someone else pops up, probably full of questions about his upcoming mission. And patient as he is, Vincent answers them all and then some, happy to educate the masses. As much as he moves throughout the room, he doesn’t look my way.

My mom encouraged me to move past my fears and claim the life I desire. I’ve managed to take control of my business’s future, preparing for the Bridal Extravaganza and being brave enough to reach out to Mrs. Rogers. So why is it so hard to go after Vincent? Maybe if I stepped out from the shadows and he just looked at me, gave me a small hint with his eyes that everything between us isn’t lost, then I would be able to take that first step into the unknown.

“Amerie, there you are,” Mrs. Rogers says, approaching arm in arm with a woman clad in a beautiful brightmagenta dress and matching hat that would rock in the front pew of any church. “Let me introduce you to my friend Jeanine. I was telling her how you put this all together on such short notice.”

“After four boys, my daughter is finally having a girl,” Jeanine exclaimed. “It’ll be the first granddaughter on both sides of the family, so we’re going all out. I’d love to hear your ideas on the celebration.”

I immediately reach for one of my newly printed business cards, and my first genuine smile breaks through. “I’d love to chat with you about it. Please, e-mail or text me and we’ll set up a meeting.”

Jeanine plucks the card from my hands as her eyes transform and take on a starry look. “I’m thinking pink. And glitter. Lots of glitter.” She shakes her head as if coming back to reality. “I’ll be in touch!”

I’m still smiling as I turn to Mrs. Rogers, but it quickly dims under her scrutiny. Yes, she allowed me to finish the event, but I’m under no illusion that all is forgiven. Or sure that this isn’t a calculated, perfectly executed bout of revenge.

“You really did a beautiful job, Amerie,” she says after a moment. “I can’t sing your praises enough.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Rogers. That means a lot coming from you.”

“Remember, dear, it’s Cheryl.”

“Okay.” I smile. “Cheryl.”

---