Page 114 of The Plus One Contract

I pat his shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Grace adores you, you big dork.”

We share a laugh that’s more genuine than anything I’ve felt with him in a long time. It feels good. It feels like maybe the wedge that formed when I left is starting to crack.

Progress.

I can’t fix everything in one day, but I can fix some things.

A soft knock at the door interrupts. Daniel’s voice drifts in, “Hey, Jer, we should head down soon. The coordinator wants a quick walk-through.”

Jeremy winces, stepping back. “Guess that’s my cue.” He glances at me, then pulls me into a hug. “Love you,” he whispers.

Oh, God, Sienna, do not cry.

I sniffle, pulling away. “Love you too.”

I follow him as he opens the door. Daniel stands there, phone in hand.

He looks between us, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features. “Everything good?”

We both nod in unison, which might look suspicious, but neither of us elaborates. Daniel rubs the back of his neck like he used to when he was about to say something in an awkward moment. I swear he’s about to ask me for a chat, but he closes his mouth again and dips his chin.

Small miracles.

I watch for a minute as they walk down the hallway, laughing about something.

When I turn around to head back to the suite, I feel the explosion of butterflies again, and I realize something: this nervous excitement is not for the man behind me.

No, this feeling in my stomach, the pounding in my heart, it’s all for the man I’m walking towards.

Forty-Two

Nathan

Weddings are hell.

Today is no different.

Except it is because today, there’s Sienna.

I don’t know why I thought I could get through the day without looking at her. I tried. Reminded myself to keep my eyes forward, to keep my distance because I leave in twenty-four hours, but then she stepped out of the suite this afternoon, and I was completely, utterly screwed.

She was wearing this floor-length dress in a deep wine color—the kind that would stain your lips if you drank too slow. The silky fabric skimmed over her curves, dipping low in the front. It was enough to tease skin that would drive a man out of his mind but still elegant enough to make her look untouchable.

Her hair was soft curls tucked behind her ear on one side, cascading down the other, baring the line of her throat.

When she brushed past me, mumbling about needing her clutch like she hadn’t just robbed me of every ounce of common sense, I realized that she had no idea. No idea how hard I had to fight the urge to push her back inside that suite, lock the door, and show her exactly how bad I wanted her.

I didn’t, of course. Because if I let myself touch her like that again, I wouldn’t stop.

So I let her go and spent the day paying for it.

The ceremony was fine. The usual clichés, the usual speeches, the usual grand declarations of love from people who haven’t yet learned how messy it can get. I stood off to the side, playing the supportive boyfriend role with Sienna’s family. I half-listened, half-watched Sienna the entire time. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. For any sign she might feel uncomfortable. That’s how I justify it, anyway.

She smiled the whole time, laughing at the silly stories, even dabbing at her eyes when her brother got choked up reciting his vows. A distant relative rose to read a poem about fate and forever, and without warning, Sienna’s fingers dug into my knee like I was her anchor, and it was the most natural thing in the world.

She didn’t let go.

I didn’t make her.

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