Page 46 of It's Only Ever Been You

I don’t answer right away, my gaze fixed on the mirror. Fix it. The idea sounds simple, but the reality is anything but. Still, Jace has a point. If I don’t say something to Emma now, when will I?

I ignore the single comment, “I wouldn’t even know where to start,” I admit, my voice quieter than I intended.

Jace claps me on the shoulder, his grin widening. “Start with hello. The rest will figure itself out.”

I force a smile, nodding as the tailor finishes his adjustments. But as I leave the shop and head back to my rental car, Jace’s words linger in my mind. Start with hello. It sounds easy enough.

But with Emma? Nothing ever is.

I rub my temples, trying to shake the tension crawling up my spine. The idea of being back in town stirs up a mix of emotions I’d rather not deal with. Nostalgia. Dread. Anticipation. And under it all, a sharp pang of guilt I can’t quite shake.

Jace had just left, his tux slung over his shoulder with a parting reminder: “Make sure you’ve got everything sorted, man. Don’t make me regret trusting you with this.”

I’d rolled my eyes at the time, giving him a lazy salute. “Relax, Jace. I’ve got it covered.”

Now, sitting in my car, I glance at my phone, which buzzes with a text from him.

Jace: Don’t forget to double-check your suit. Wouldn’t want you showing up in basketball shorts.

I laugh, shaking my head as I type back.

Me: You’re the one who dragged me to the shop. You know I’ve got it.

Jace: Just making sure. You’re not exactly Mr. Reliable with this stuff.

I smirk, staring at the screen for a second before a new notification pops up—an Instagram story from him. Against my better judgment, I tap on it.

It’s a photo from earlier today, taken during the bridesmaids’ get-together at Jace’s fiancée Sierra’s family home. The setup is simple but elegant, withstring lights casting a warm glow over the backyard and tables scattered with small floral arrangements. Everyone looks relaxed, sipping drinks and laughing, but my eyes go straight to Emma. She’s sitting with Sarah, her hair loose and falling over her shoulders, a soft smile on her face that hits me harder than I want to admit.

My thumb hovers over the screen, debating whether to swipe out or keep watching. But before I can decide, the next story automatically plays. It’s a candid shot of Emma. She’s sitting on a couch, her head tipped back as she laughs at something out of frame. The sight of her crashes over me like a tidal wave.

I didn’t expect to see her, not like this. Not looking so damn happy.

Her hair’s longer now, brushing the middle of her back in soft waves, and there’s this light in her eyes I’d forgotten she had. Or maybe it’s just one I hadn’t noticed before. My throat tightens, and I swipe out of the app, tossing my phone onto the console like it’s burned me.

The thing about Emma is… she’s always there. Not physically, obviously. But in my head, in the memories that creep up on me when I least expect them. It doesn’t matter how many years pass, how many miles stretch between us—she’s still the first thing I think of when someone asks me who I’d call if I needed saving.

I lean back against the couch, letting out a long breath. This wedding is going to be hell. Being in the same room as her after all this time, pretending we’re just old friends catching up—it’s going to rip me apart.

But I can’t avoid her. Not this time.

My phone buzzes, pulling me out of my thoughts. It’s Jace.

Jace: Hey man, can you do me a solid and swing by Jensen’s Jewelers? I forgot to pick up my cufflinks, and Sierra’s about to lose it. They’re special order—something her dad had made for me.

I huff a laugh, shaking my head. Classic Jace, always forgetting something important.

Me: On it. You owe me.

Jace: Add it to the tab. And don’t be late to anything, alright? I know you and Sierra’s got everything running on a schedule.

Me: Got it. Jensen’s, cufflinks, don’t be late. Anything else?

Jace: Yeah, maybe a Xanax for Sierra. But seriously, thanks, man.

I chuckle, pocketing my phone. Leave it to Jace to rope me into wedding errands at the last minute. Still, it’s better than sitting around my hotel room overthinking everything.

I set my phone down and grab my keys. If nothing else, running errands will give me a break from the thoughts swirling in my head. And maybe, I’ll figure out how to survive this wedding without making an absolute fool of myself.

---