Page 33 of Aisle Come Back to You

“You okay?” I mouth, trying not to focus on the way that Pete has wrapped his grimy little arm around her shoulder. While I should be happy that things seem fine, I personally want him to be as far away from my best friend as possible.

She nods her head and does her best to send me an encouraging smile, but as her best friend, I can see right through it. However, I also know her well enough to know that now isn’t the time to push. So much for a fun, celebratory night out with my favorite people.

17

Ford

Inever thought I’dreach a point in my life where I’d actually be grateful to be sitting in a car next to Miles Bennett, yet here we are. Then again, it’s definitely better than the excruciating awkwardness at the Timberline tonight. It was obvious that Ronnie and Pete’s over-the-top affection was clearly a desperate attempt to make us believe everything was fine, but given the tense atmosphere, it was obvious that none of us were buying it.

From the driver’s seat, I glance in the rear-view mirror and catch a glimpse of Blair lost in thought, her gaze fixed out the window at the passing scenery, which given that we’re in Evergreen, isn’t anything special. Unfortunately, I have a pretty good idea what she’s thinking about, since I’m doing the same as we all sit quietly and half-heartedly pretend to listen to the song playing on the radio.

“Thanks for being the designated driver tonight,” Miles says, his voice cutting through the awkward silence as I pull into the parking lot of his apartment complex.

“No problem. I’ve never been a big drinker anyway, so it’s not a big deal. It’s kind of like my designated job anyway,” I ramble.

While I’ll have a drink or two every now and then, I still feel compelled to show Miles that I’m not some delinquent and that he should be glad his sister has someone like me. I hate that I’m still stuck in this perpetual cycle of needing to prove myself to him, but I just can’t seem to stop.

“On that note,” Miles says before clearing his throat, obviously eager to get out of my car as he swiftly unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the door just as quickly.

So much for my attempt at making a good impression. Then again, it’s not like I was trying to prove to Miles that I’m some well-spoken Casanova—nobody could ever accuse me of being that.

Having been so absorbed in Miles, even I startle when he taps the back window to get Blair’s attention. Looking through my mirror once more, she finally seems to come out of the trance she’s been lost in.

My brows furrow. “You okay?”

“Oh,” she starts, her eyes flickering with confusion as she blinks a few times before shaking her head to clear her thoughts as she brings herself back to reality. “Yeah, sorry. I think I just…” she trails off as Miles opens the car door.

“You coming?” he asks.

“Actually, I think I need a minute,” she tells her brother before meeting my eyes in the mirror once more. “Do you mind hanging around for a few minutes?”

“Yeah, sure. Of course.” I nod.

Miles seems to hesitate, concern etching his features, but he gives in with a firm nod. “See you in a few.” He shuts the doorand sends us off with a small wave before heading up the stairs toward his apartment.

Taking initiative, I quickly maneuver the car into a nearby parking stall, figuring it best not to linger in the middle of the lot. “So what’s up? What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“I don’t even know. I’m just so worried, Ford,” she says, her face etched with a seemingly permanent frown, the lines of concern somehow deepening. “When I came home, I expected everything to be one way, and I wanted to believe that everything that’s happened, happened for a reason and that you were happy, and Ronnie was happy too. It didn’t matter that it felt like I was being left behind and you two were progressing while I stayed the same. To me, if you both were happy and living the dream, then it was fine. Instead, it’s been the opposite. You’re going through a divorce or separation”—she casually waves as she spins her hand in a small circle—“or whatever it is, and then to find Ronnie marrying a guy who’s taken away all the amazing and beautiful things that make her so special, it just…it sucks, and it hurts, and I hate this, and I feel so powerless to stop it.”

“I hate it too,” I assure her, my hand itching to reach out and offer comfort, but given our positions in the car, it isn’t it all that easy. Unable to bear it any longer, I propel myself out of my seat and clumsily shuffle into the back, plopping down beside her as I hastily adjust my glasses and settle in.

In the past, I probably would've felt stupid for doing this or pushed myself into overthinking and not doing it, but as I watch her lips curve upward into a smile, I know I made the right decision. “So yeah, maybe we should think about having some kind of intervention with Ronnie to make sure she’s happy, but if there’s one thing I unfortunately had to learn on my own, it was that I had to make my own choices and mistakes to learn what I truly wanted.”

“And did you actually find out?”

My brows pinch together in confusion. “What?”

“You said your mistakes led you to finding out what you really wanted, so did you do it? Do you finally know what you truly want?”

You. That’s what I want to say, but given the current strange and disordered state of things with Ronnie, it almost doesn’t feel right to say it just yet. “Maybe,” I lie instead. “If anything, I now know what I don’t want. It isn’t like I have everything figured out, but it finally feels like I’m heading in the right direction.”

“And you don’t think we can help Ronnie figure this out before she makes too huge of a mistake too?”

“Well, I can’t exactly say that you doing something similar on my actual wedding day helped me all that much.”

She lets out a frustrated breath and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, well, clearly I waited too long and was too late. Maybe if we sit her down before the actual wedding day, we can stop it before it goes too far.”

I hesitate. Would I have stopped the wedding from happening if Blair had told me earlier instead of waiting just minutes before I was supposed to walk down the aisle? “Maybe,” I concede. “But do we really think Ronnie is the type of person to be talked out of something she has her mind set on? You two are practically the same person, and I highly doubt you could be talked out of anything, especially when you felt like it was the right thing for you.”

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