Page 136 of Butter My Biscuit

When she grabs my hand, I pull her close to me. She spins into my arms, and then we slow dance to silence.

“I wouldn’t have been able to survive it if the roles were reversed.”

It’s the most truthful thing I’ve said all week. I’d die, watching Grace marry another man.

Her body is pressed against mine, and I’m so glad I can’t see her face right now.

“I found the letter.”

She shakes her head and pulls away from me. “I didn’t write you a letter.”

I pull the folded piece of paper from my pocket. It’s covered in red-lipped kisses sixteen-year-old Grace wrote me. Like a flash in the dark, recognition fills her eyes as she sees it.

“I don’t care that it was dated eleven years ago.”

She touches the locket. Knowing why I chosethatpicture. Becausethatwas the night she hid that note in that fucking treasure chest, thinking I’d find it.

Her brows crease and then straighten, and it tells me everything I need to know.

“Wait, youjustfound it?” Her nostrils flare. “I thought … yourejectedme.”

“Had I known you felt this way back then, it would’ve been you. It’s always beenyou.” I shake my head. “What is it with the older kids in families not being able to communicate properly? I love—” I swallow hard, meeting her eyes. “Ilovedyou,” I correct.

When she doesn’t respond, I continue, “And people change, I guess.”

She sucks in the heavy air that’s smothering me.

I want to kiss her one last time to make sure there isn’tanythingbetween us, but I won’t because I don’t break my promises either.

But if she gave me a glimmer of hope there was an actual chance for us, I’d walk away from this wedding without looking back. I can’t force her to see what’s right in front of her. For this to ever work, she needs to see it for herself, now, as the woman she is today. And she still doesn’t. After everything.

Her eyes gently close, and her uneasy breath flutters against my lips, and she stops.

“I should get going, okay?”

When she pulls away, I see tears threatening to spill over.

“Okay,” I tell her.

The message is heard loud and clear.

There is no chance for us.

“You look … like a prince.” Her words are barely audible.

“Goodbye, Grace,” I whisper before she leaves the room. Because that’s what this is …the actual end.The one where I get married, and she moves away, and we grow apart.

When I’m alone, I sit in one of the changing chairs and check the time.

Fifteen minutes.

The door flies open, and I think it’s Grace coming back to say she realizes just how stupid she’s being, but instead, it’s Kinsley.

She waltzes across the room in a lavender dress like she owns the color. My older sister stands in front of me and places a hand on her hip. Gold bracelets jingle as she stares down at me like I’m one of her peasants. “You know the cards don’t lie.”

“Kins, please, I know you’re giving queen energy today, but I can’t do this right now,” I groan, trying to get my thoughts under control before I make a rash decision. “Just admit it. You got it wrong. And when I kiss my wife and walk down that aisle, I’m gonna give you the biggest, fattest ValentineItold you sothat I’ve ever given anyone in my entire life. And it’s going to be sooooo bittersweet, rubbing it in your face how wrong you were.”

She scoffs and then playfully shakes her head. “You’re playin’ with fire, Harrison.”

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