Page 66 of Catch and Release Groom

Rays of waning sunlight cast Imogen’s side profile aglow. “Look, I get it. You don’t want to be made a fool of, and neither do I. As fun-loving and carefree as I’ve tried to be during my vacation, I’m the type of gal who needs assurances. Speaking my mind and expressing my needs is called communication, not fleeing the scene.

“So, go ahead and roll your eyes and demand I ‘be rational’ but it won’t shut me down or change my mind—not anymore. We’ve all got our lines, and in order to take care of myself, this is mine.”

Misery bled through him, the substance so viscous his lungs struggled to expand and perform their respiratory duty. He hadn’t rolled his eyes, although she was definitely turning this into a bigger deal than it was, accusing him of things he hadn’t done.

What was the point, when this was always going to be the outcome anyway? Eventually, Imogen would walk away. Why delay it? He’d once given up his dream for a woman and vowednever again. Especially not for a woman who already had one foot out of town. “Nah, you’re just looking for a reason to run.”

She whipped around fully this time, feisty and fiery, and despite himself, everything within him glinted and fizzed. His short-circuiting brain even screamed for him to prolong their dispute.

But that was before ice sharpened her blue eyes, crept through her expression, and turned her voice extra cool as she said, “No, Easton. I was looking for a reason to stay. Thanks for making it easier to walk away.”

Chapter Twenty-Eight

By the time Easton charged into the rectory—a place he knew too well due to the recent strings of weddings that’d both happened and not happened—he was in a right foul mood. Stompy and stormy and in no disposition to help anyone anymore.

He didn’t even want to bearoundanyone.

Hell, he didn’t even want to be around himself.

He’d already played this game. Whether Imogen flew home as scheduled or stuck around long enough to tire of him or the country setting, he’d always known she’d return to the city. So why did watching her go gnaw a hole clean through his gut?

Why hadn’t he done a better job preparing himself?

Around the hallway corner he stormed, nearly colliding with the bride.

“Oh, thank God,” Grace said, silk, lace, and tulle whooshing as she threw her arms around him. As if hugging was something they did anymore. “I was afraid you weren’t going to come.”

I probably shouldn’t have. Not with what it cost me.

Which was nothing, hadn’t his brain sorted that out yet?

If Grace noticed he’d remained stiff as a board during their embrace, she didn’t act like it. Off she rambled, each shift and swish of her bejeweled gown causing a ruckus. “I realized that I can’t get married—”

“Here we go—”

“Until you and I’ve had our closure.”

“Wait, what?” Easton asked at the same time Grace frowned at him. He’d halfway expected her to demand he bring his truck round the other side of the chapel and find her the fastest route out of town.

That’d prove it wasn’t him—that Grace was the broken one.

Validation like that might even give him a solid reason to drop his grudge with love.

It’d occupy the townsfolk with business other than his, at the very least.

“Closure,” she repeated as if saying it slower and louder turned it into enough information. “I tried to convince myself that inviting you here today would, like, magically allow us to have our past and a future where we could maybe be friends.”

He made a sour face—he couldn’t help it, but again, Grace seemed oblivious. Almost as though she didn’t so much need him there but to know he’d been present when she’d given her prepared speech.

Which wasn’t to say she didn’t mean it. She clicked the acrylic tips of her nails together, a nervous tic she’d had since they were teenagers, and it reminded him how deeply she cared what people thought. “I know what I did to you wasn’t right, leaving you at the altar like that,” she said, her tone and expression genuine.

“I was so upset, and I…” Hazel eyes met his, and for a second, all he could think was that they weren’t blue; the pearly pink lips were wrong, too. “After my anger and heartbreak faded away, I regretted the way we’d left things.”

“Youregretted it?” Easton didn’t bother hiding his irritation, the way he often used to in the name of keeping the peace. “I’mthe one who stood there at the altar like a chump while the entire town watched.”

“As you probably remember, I can be a bit dramatic…”

“A bit?” he automatically snarked, since everyone in Grace’s world would always be her supporting players.

---