Page 70 of Kiss the Bride

Our kiss isn’t planned and isn’t intended to torment Mitchel, although I see a jealous rage I’m all too familiar with. Not because I want Hunter to stay, but because I need space to think.

When my lips seek Hunter’s, our kiss is the end of our beginning. We’ve stolen two special days away from the world with conversations that should have occurred years ago, and the lovemaking our bodies deserved. At some point, reality was always going to intrude, and even though I thought we hadanother couple of weeks, today we’ll find out what our futures hold.

Mitchel’s.

Hunter’s.

Mine.

“I didn’t need to see that. Just telling me you’ve been fucking like hot rabbits would have been enough.” Mitch’s growl does nothing for me—it doesn’t send shivers to my heart or core, and it doesn’t make me want to jump at his command. “Now, do as the lady says and leave us the fuck alone.”

“Liv, if you need me—“

“I know. Thank you.” Despite wanting Hunter to leave without hurting him more than necessary, my right hand trails down his neck, cuffing the shirt he’s thrown on only to meet my ex. With my eyes, I try to convince us both that nothing has changed.

We will always be Hunter and Liv, unless he’s the first to walk away.

“Babe, oh, babe!” The restaurant door hasn’t even fully closed behind Hunter and Mitchel is already in my face, trying to pull me into his arms. “I’ve missed you. I know I fucked things up between us, but we can get through it.”

“Why?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

“Because I’ll never love a woman as much as I love you. We’ve built an amazing life together, and if we can somehow salvage something from this honeymoon, by the time we get back to Sydney, we can have everything we’ve ever wanted.”

“Why did you miss me?” I need to hear the answer. Maybe his words will trigger some long-buried emotion within me.

“I don’t know. How about not being able to sleep in a bed without you?” Fine, he didn’t like sleeping alone. Easily replaced.

“Anything else?” I ask, not out of jealousy or anger, but out of genuine curiosity.

“How about the shower doesn’t need daily cleaning to remove your long hair, the coffee beans haven’t needed replacing each day, and I miss that.”

“You miss complaining about the coffee beans?” As I recall, every time he needed to replace the beans, empty the grounds, or top up the water, I had to hear what a wonderful boyfriend he was. Same for replacing the liner in the garbage bin or putting out the recycling.

Not that he considered the toilet cleaning, linen changing, or the thousand other things I did around the house. I accepted being taken for granted, or I brushed it off, as just what couples did.

“You drink a lot of coffee. I swear we were going through a kilo a week, and you refuse to drink the cheaper stuff. Really, if you’re gonna drink it like water, why do we need to buy the most expensive brands?”

I think back to a pact Hunter and I made when we were seventeen.Life is too short to drink bad coffee, or bad wine.It became almost like a shorthand. Test driving his first car, the dealer tried to talk Hunter into an overpriced, bottom-spec SUV instead of the sporty car Hunter had come in asking to test drive.

“Life,” I’d whispered when Hunter seemed drawn in by a sales pitch full of camping trips and driving cross-country. That had never been us, and Hunter’s dream car would be for hugging bends and taking off fast at traffic lights. Hunter would never complain about the price of coffee—he’d devote an entire cupboard for different beans and grinds for our friends to taste test.

“So, you missed me going through the coffee beans and messing up the shower.”

“Damn it, Olivia!” Mitchel snaps before pulling back. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?”

“I told everyone, your parents, our friends, everyone that I was going to win you back. All I need is time and a little bit of space. You and me. I want us to use the rest of this honeymoon to find us.”

“We never got lost.”

“Yes, we did. Pushing me to get married got in the way of what matters.”

“Which is?” I can’t remember suggesting we get married—it had all been Mitch’s family and Mitch. I’d gone along because it seemed like the next logical step in our relationship.

“I just need to close the government deal, then we can sell up and travel. Get away from all the bad memories and make new ones.”

Something Hunter had said triggers. “Why sell? Why can’t we just rent out the house?”

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