Page 37 of Accidental Mile High Daddy
I knew both of them.
I slowed near the doors, mostly out of sight with the sun reflecting off the glass, rising up that little bit more on my tiptoes than my heels already had me, and spotted them as Margot and Zach kept on toward the ceremony space. Zach was far too busy babbling to even notice my absence.
I didn’t need to hear the words to know it was tense. It was there in the muffled sound of their voices, in the sharp gestures and stiff postures, in the way Matt stood with his arms crossed and his suit jacket pulled taut across his shoulder blades, and the way Ryan was pointing angrily in an arbitrary direction with his brows furrowed and his forehead vein bulging. This was hidden, separate from the guests, removed in a way that clearly sought privacy. And whatever the conversation was, it wasn’t civil.
I didn’t get closer.
There wasn’t a part of me that wanted to chance being spotted by Ryan, so I shifted, leaning back against the wall opposite the glass door. I slipped my phone from my clutch and shot off a quick text to Matt.
Me:
I’m here. Waiting in the lobby.
I stared at the doors, the twist of adrenaline curling in my stomach. Arguments between Ryan and Matt were something I’d heard a lot about from Ryan in particular, but from the way Matt had looked—even with his back to me, tense as a rock—I could tell it wasn’t what Matt claimed were the standardI need moneyarguments.
I counted the seconds. Then the minutes.
Two, then three, then Matt filled the glass frame of the door before he wrenched it open, pausing the moment his eyes met mine over the threshold, his pristinely pressed black suit wrapped around him like a glove, his tie a perfect match for mine, his mostly-grey hair slicked back away from his sharp features.
For a heartbeat, he just looked at me, eyes scanning me from head to heels as if he needed a second to take it in and recover. But he shook his head with a quiet curse under his breath and shut the door behind him.
“God,” he murmured. “You look…” His Adam’s apple bobbed, words dying on his tongue.
I breathed out a chuckle, my cheeks heating. “Should I take your speechlessness as a compliment?”
He scrubbed a hand over his face, swallowing and resetting his jaw. “Yeah,” he huffed. “You fucking should.”
That shouldn’t have flustered me, but Christ, itdid. The way he was looking at me, like he wanted to do more thandevourme, set my pulse spiking until I could feel it pounding against the inside of my wrist.
He crossed the space between us, calmer now, like whatever storm had been spinning outside had finally snapped shut andhe was able to focus on this alone. His hand found the small of my back, warm through the fabric and boning of the dress, pulling me just an inch closer to him — enough that I could feel the heat rippling off of him, enough that I could smell the hint of whiskey on his breath.He’d already had a drink?
“Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low enough that only I could hear as a handful of guests passed behind him.
I swallowed.No, I wanted to say,Ryan’s getting married, and I still don’t know what the hell that dinner was with you last night. But those weren’t what made it out of my mouth. “Yeah,” I breathed.
His brows furrowed almost imperceptibly, his mouth thinning to a hard line, his eyes searching mine. My pulse pounded once, hard, before he leaned in, his breath fanning across my ear. “Think we both need to get a little better at lying if we’re going to survive tonight,” he murmured.
Before I could even form a response, his free hand came up to cup my jaw, his other pulling me just a little closer, enough that my breasts brushed his jacket on an inhale. His lips pressed against my cheek, just gently, just enough to make my breath hitch.
It’s just the act.
His hand lowered gently, his touch soft enough not to smudge my makeup, until he was cupping the curve of the side of my throat, his thumb gently brushing across my jawline. “Just say if you need a minute. Doesn’t matter when, we’ll just fuck off somewhere private so you can catch your breath. Okay?”
I nodded.
“Words, Sienna.”
Something curled low in my stomach at that. “Okay,” I rasped.
“Good.” He pulled back, his gaze locking with mine, hazel eyes sharp and searing a hole straight through me. “Let’s get this over with.”
I let him lead me toward the ceremony space, his hand heavy on the small of my back, my heels clicking with every step. I told myself I wasn’t leaning into his touch, told myself this wasn’t comfort, that I didn’tneedthe attention he was paying to me or the way it made me feel.
But I knew I was lying to myself.
By the time the ceremony began, the sky was lit up in deep blues and oranges and pinks, the sun setting over the Yucatan peninsula behind us, the Caribbean lapping at the back steps of Ryan and Lauren’s stupid stage for their vows. Matt and I sat on the right side of the seating area, a few rows back from the front, because, ofcourse,Ryan didn’t want us anywhere close to him, despite Matt being his closest living family member. The chairs around me were filled with either people I’d met who knewexactlywho I was to Ryan and couldn’t stop glancing at me, or people I’d never met that he’d invited for the status of it all.
Matt took my hand in his the moment we all stood for the bride, a soft squeeze settling my nerves, and I watched in numb silence as Lauren walked down the aisle alone in a stupidly, perfect, strapless dress that I was almostpositivewas the same one she’d pointed out to me in a magazine six months ago, a giggle crossing her lips as she’d said,“You should wear that one when he finally plucks up the nerve to ask you.”
