Page 64 of It's Only Ever Been You

Ethan kisses me once more before slipping out of bed. When he moves to dress, I can’t help but watch, each movement reminding me of how quickly this moment could slip away. As I watch him, his movements sure and confident, I wonder how he can look so calm while I feel like I’m barely holding it together. He leans down and kisses me once more before heading out the door.

When the door clicks shut behind him, the silence feels deafening.

I sit up, pulling the sheets around me as I try to steady my thoughts. The morning light feels too harsh, exposing every doubt and fear I’ve been trying to ignore. What if last night was just a mistake he’ll regret? What if I’m setting myself up to be left behind again?

The rest of the morning drags, the flurry of wedding prep activities doing little to distract mefrom the growing knot in my stomach. I go over last-minute details, double-checking seating charts and schedules, nodding and smiling at all the right times, but my mind is elsewhere.

“Emma, are you okay?” Sarah’s voice pulls me from my thoughts. She’s standing by the door, her hand idly turning one of the bouquets as if examining it. Her brows knit together, and she makes a small face, clearly unimpressed. “I told you this theme was over-the-top classic.”

I glance around the bustling room, then back at her. “Can we talk?”

“Of course,” she says, setting the bouquet aside.

We step into the adjoining lounge, the noise muffling behind the closed door. Sarah leans against the back of the couch, her arms crossed as she studies me.

“Spill,” she says, her tone soft but direct.

I hesitate, my fingers fidgeting with the tie of my robe. “Ethan and I… we…” The words catch in my throat.

I grip the edge of the vanity, my reflection staring back at me with wide, uncertain eyes. My fingers drum against the wood, betraying the nervous energy I can’t seem to shake. Sarah’s voice pulls me from my spiraling thoughts, her head tilting slightly as she watches me.

A knowing smile tugs at Sarah’s lips. “Oh, I know.”

My cheeks flush. “You do?”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” she teases, a knowing smile tugging at her lips before her expression softens. “What’s wrong? You don’t look happy.”

“I am,” I say quickly. “But I’m also… terrified.”

Sarah tilts her head, waiting for me to elaborate.

“I don’t know if I can trust him not to leave again,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. “What if this is just… temporary for him?”

Sarah steps closer, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “Emma, I’ve caught the way he’s looked at you. It’s the same look he had back in college. I’d say he’s all in—you just have to let yourself believe it.”

Her words are meant to comfort, but the flicker of emotion in her eyes tells me she’s wrestling with her own struggles.

“What about you?” I ask. “Are you okay?”

For a moment, Sarah’s mask slips, her smile faltering. But she quickly shakes her head, brushing it off. “This isn’t about me. Let’s focus on you and your happily ever after, okay?”

Her deflection leaves me with more questions than answers, but I don’t press.

Sarah doesn’t stay much longer and after she leaves, I busy myself with the pre-wedding chaos—final touch-ups on where we will be, last-minute adjustments to some things Sierra deemed necessary. And the whirlwind of bridesmaids flitting in and out with questions and champagne. The energy in the suite feels suffocating, each cheerful laugh and clinking glass only amplifying the tension in my chest.

Needing a break, I volunteer to check on the groomsmen’s boutonnieres, which gives me a reason to step out of the suite. As I weave through the venue, the noise and chaos fade slightly, replaced by the hum of soft classical music drifting from the ceremony area.

I take my time walking back, letting the quiet settle over me. The weight in my chest hasn’t eased, but the distraction of checking small details helps push it to the back of my mind. I pause by the guestbook table, straightening a pen and glancing at the floral arrangements, admiring the way the muted colors contrast against the polished wood. I know Sarah hates it but I think she’s just projecting, I think it’s beautiful. Sierra did a great job.

Eventually, I make my way outside to the garden. The air is crisp but inviting, and for the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. I spot Sierra near the cocktail area, chatting briefly with a server as she picks up a glass of sparkling water. She notices me, smiling and waves but doesn’t come over, continuingher conversation with the server before I can return the gesture.

I head back inside, wandering through the hallways back toward the chaos of wedding preparation. It’s there, as I turn a corner, that I see Sarah and Jace standing in a secluded corner, their postures tense and their voices hushed but sharp.

Their voices are low, their posture tense. I can’t hear much, but I catch Sarah’s clipped tone as she says, “This changes everything, Jace. We can’t go back.”

Jace runs a hand through his hair, his frustration evident as he steps closer to Sarah, his voice softening. “Sarah, I—”

Before he finishes, he reaches for her, his hands gently grasping her arms, desperation flickering across his face. But Sarah pulls away sharply, her movements quick and resolute. The devastation etched into Jace’s features is undeniable as she puts distance between them.

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