Page 52 of Finding the Pieces

“Your tits bouncing with every stroke,” I add.

Fuck, I can picture it now.

“Before you filled me to the brim with your cum until it spilled over and ran down my ass. We had to ask for new sheets from room service that night,” she says.

“Then we got in the bath, our legs tangled together,” I say in a soft voice. Our rushed cadence breaking in a pause to remember how sweet the afterglow was after that hot, messy sex.

“We talked about the wedding and how much fun it was,” she says, with a dreamy look on her face. “We talked about how we wished we could extendour honeymoon by a month. We talked about how perfect everything felt, our future, and all that we wanted our life to look like.”

By this point, we’re both breathing heavy, in a comfortable quiet. I hold onto Ellie tightly, remembering that moment in time, knowing there’s no memory I could think of to top that one. Sitting with her in my arms and talking through it all, hearing her recall every dirty detail, filling in the gaps between her perspective and mine, feels almost as arousing as the memory itself.

“I know the path was different than we may have envisioned in some parts, but this is exactly what I’ve always wanted my life to look like,” I murmur.

“Promise?” she asks, holding me just as tightly.

“With my entire heart, Ellie. I’m exactly where I want to be.” I don’t see it, but I feel her smile against my chest, setting my skin on fire beneath her touch with electricity, warmth, and love.

“So…which memory is your favorite?” she asks.

“You win, Ellie. There’s no topping that.” I pull back to look at her. “Until you’re ready for me to try again. Now I have a good idea of where the bar is…for now.”

Then I kiss her until her lips are puffy and her hair is a tangled mess. We haven’t made out without it leading to sex since college. It feels nostalgic. It feels like pieces of us are waking up and finding each other again. That flicker of hope in my chest ignites and burns brighter.

Chapter twenty-six

Ellie

“Bec, it’s…incredible.”

“Absolutely stunning.”

“It’s perfect.”

“You look beautiful.”

“Holy hotness. Aiden’s going to come in his pants when he sees you.”

Bec stands in front of the one-hundred-and-eighty-degree mirror in a wedding dress—soon to beherwedding dress—as the rest of us sing our praises because she looksradiant. Joy and giddiness fill the space as we all gush over the finer details of the dress and start talking about accessories.

Tears form in the corner of my eyes, and I blink quickly in an effort to hold them back. My best friend is getting married. I couldn’t be happier for her and Aiden.

I smile, a fleeting memory quickly racing through my mind of Bec and me in opposite places, her helping me make a final choice about the wedding dress I would wear when I got married and she was my maid of honor. Danny, her older sister, and I are her maid and matron of honor. Yes, she’ll have two, and I couldn’t be more honoredthat she asked me.

Bec and Aiden set their wedding date for this December, ensuring that the Aviators’ season will be over before the big day. They opted for the shorter engagement rather than wait for the following post-season since they aren’t able to predict the progression of Aiden’s mom’s Alzheimer’s disease. They want her to be able to enjoy the day with them as much as possible.

Bec’s dress couldn’t be more perfect for a winter wedding. I’m not a fashion expert, but I’d call it vintage boho. The A-line dress is completely lace and ivory with a champagne color underlay. The long sleeves billow slightly around her forearms and cinch in around her wrists in two lace cuffs. The V-neckline plunges low with tasteful cleavage, of course. You’re welcome, Aiden.

“Thanks, guys. Mom, Danny, and I stopped in impulsively last week after we grabbed lunch. It was the first dress I tried on, but I wanted to show you all to be sure. I think I have my answer. Oh, and we also found a few dresses we loved for the bridal party. If you’re up for trying on the different styles, they’re here for you to look at.”

The bridesmaids’ dresses are beautiful. Several shades of purple, all complementing one another. The chiffon dresses are in an array of different styles, and I heave a sigh of relief.

I love my friends more than anything. They’re beautiful inside and out. But my outsides have my insides feeling a little insecure lately, and if I have to stand next to them on Bec’s big day, I’d like to at least have a smidgen of self-esteem by choosing a style that flatters my curves. It’s not a big deal to them, but to me, I’d obsess about how I look compared to them if we were all in the same dress.

The girls and I start browsing, talking with Bec about what she envisions for the various wedding decisions—flowers, centerpieces, décor—when a dress catches my eye. It’s a deep purple, A-line dress with soft, flowy sleeves that look like they’d fall just shy of my elbow. The back has a large cutout with a decorative bow that ties at the base of the neck. I pull the dress off the clothing rack and notice a long slit up one side.That’s a lot of thigh.

I smile at the thought of Dom seeing me in this. Just that feeling alone, and how giddy it makes me, tells me I need to at least give this one a shot.

We all come out of our dressing rooms a few minutes later, having picked a range of styles and shades of purple. The confidence I had moments ago shrivels up when I see the other girls in their dresses. I felt amazing a second ago, until I let an ugly jealousy rule my mind completely.

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