Page 126 of The One I Need
“Nope,” I say as we approach the door. “If I kiss you after that, I’m going to be having sex with you on this patio, and I’m pretty sure we’d traumatize our guests. Especially if you let a ‘good girl’ fly.”
Oliver opens the door for me, but not before a playful smack to my ass as I enter. “Remember that for later, Mrs. Price.”
“Oh I will, Mr. McCall. I absolutely will.”
Epilogue - Shane
Jake and Whitley’s wedding, six months prior
“Shane?”
“Yeah?”
“I need to fix this.”
I take a sip of my drink before answering Wes. “No shit, Sherlock.”
He slams his hands on the table before walking away, thankfully not toward the dance floor where the woman he’s about to let get away is dancing with another man. It’s nothing suggestive or sexual. Just two people enjoying the song and having fun.
The song changes to a slower one, and I can see the couples forming on the floor. I take another drink from my whiskey as I watch husbands and wives make their way to the floor. Strangers asking each other to dance so they don’t have to be alone and sitting at their tables stewing.
Yes, I’m one of the stewing ones, but that’s by choice. It’s always been by choice.
I try to hold back my glare as I watch the different couples start swaying to the sounds of a song about their loves having come along when I catch the sight of one couple. The man is about my height at six-foot-one and well built, likely one of the many professional football players or coaches in attendance tonight. And he’s dancing with the only woman I’ve ever loved.
I go from stewing to seething in point-five seconds. What is Amelia doing? Who is that guy? Why is she laughing like he just told her the world’s best joke?
And why is he now pulling her in to kiss her?
I feel my grip tighten on my whiskey glass. I honestly don’t know how I don’t break it. I look around, hoping that one of my friends is here to stop me from doing what I’m about to do. Not that they would know what they’re stopping me from. They have no idea that for years I’ve been in love with Amelia. That for years I’ve pushed down those feelings because I couldn’t risk ruining the friendship.
But none of them are here. Wes is somewhere hopefully figuring out how to get back Betsy. I look over and see Oliver at the bar talking to a red-headed woman who I’m guessing he’s already wondering how to propose to. I have no idea where Simon is after he bolted from the table and marched away.
I shouldn’t do this. I know I shouldn’t. And I nearly have myself talked down from making the biggest mistake of my life until I see the man bring Amelia so close there is not an inch of air between them. And his hands slowly start drifting lower on her back.
Fuck. That.
I nearly knock my chair over as I stand up and start stomping toward the dance floor. The song ends as soon as I make my way to Amelia, giving me the perfect time to grab her hand and pull her off the dance floor.
“Shane?” Amelia asks, clearly confused about what’s going on. “What are you doing?”
I don’t let go of her hand as I march us outside. I don’t know if it’s truly private, but it has to be better than in front of all the people who just saw me drag her away like I’m a mad man.
Which I am right now. I’m a maniac.
I lead us over to a dark corner of the patio that is attached to the venue. The wall is floor-to-ceiling windows so people outside can still see in, so I find a hidden corner away from any wandering eyes.
“What the hell?” she says, pulling her hand away and shaking her arm.
“What were you doing in there?”
Amelia looks at me like I’m crazy, which I might be. I feel crazy right now. I feel so crazy I might do something stupid that could ruin everything. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”
“In there,” I point back toward the reception. “Who were you with?”
“His name is Anthony. He’s a Fury coach,” Amelia says. “Whitley introduced us and we hit it off. He asked me to dance. I didn’t know that was a crime.”
“That was dancing?” I say. “I didn’t realize dancing required your lips. Who knew?”
