Practice Makes Perfect (When in Rome, #2)(95)
“Good. No cold feet? Because I could pull the truck around if you need a quick escape.”
“Only if Amelia is escaping with me.”
I smile—so happy to see my brother like this. My heart tries to squeeze when I think about the man who’s missing from this day, but I don’t let it.
Just as expected, there’ve been no signs of Will today. Not even a text message or a letter or a sign in the sand. He just vanished, and a huge part of me is let down. I didn’t expect him to stick around or anything—but I did anticipate him at least hugging me goodbye. Telling me that I mean something to him, even if it’s just friendship. I went after him once when he pulled away—twice would just look desperate. If this is his choice, I have to let him go.
“I’m sorry he left,” Noah says suddenly—apparently reading the expression that I wrongly thought I was keeping very neutral. “I heard he checked out of Mabel’s this morning.”
Oh.
I hadn’t heard that. So I guess it is official. He really did leave.
I wave like, eh, no big deal! “He was always supposed to go.” I give a big fake smile. “He’s not built for settling down. But we had fun while he was here.” Oof this hurts. Being fake happy. Being fake positive.
Noah chuckles. “Bullshit, Annie. Don’t try to feed me any of that garbage. You miss him like hell, and you’re mad he left.”
“I don’t have any right to be mad. He was up front about how he felt from the beginning.” I can, however, be mad that he left without saying goodbye.
He gives me a sad sort of smile. “The problem is, you’re trying to rationalize your feelings. I have bad news for you, the heart wants what it wants, and there’s no talking it out of it.”
“You sound like a fortune cookie.”
Noah won’t be quipped out of this conversation, though. “Did you ask him to stay?”
“Would you have asked Amelia to stay if she was determined to leave?”
He ticks his head to the side. “Good point.”
“I just couldn’t do it, Noah. I couldn’t ask him to change his life for me. He would have ended up resenting me.”
He turns to face me. “Believe me, I get where you’re coming from. But hear me out. What if he was waiting for an invitation to stay?”
No…that’s not…he wouldn’t have…Surely, he knew…
Oh no.
We’re interrupted by a small knock on the door, followed by its opening creak. Amelia peeks her head inside. “Noah, can I come in—Oh, Annie! Sorry, I didn’t know you were in here!”
I laugh and step back from Noah. “Are you kidding? It’s your wedding day. You get to do what you want!”
She opens the door and slips through quickly, like there’s a monster outside about to gobble her up. “If Emily sees me coming in here she’s going to go berserk,” she says, closing the door silently behind her. When she turns forward again, I watch my brother’s face melt into something so tender I want to clutch my heart.
He breathes out in a rush as his eyes drop to take in her vintage-inspired wedding gown. It’s made of delicate white lace and is fitted to her every curve. Loose cap sleeves of fine sheer lace cover her shoulders, and the neckline dips into a steep V. In the back, the dress flows out to the smallest suggestion of a train. It’s a simple yet stunning gown that is the perfect contrast to Amelia’s dark eyes and loosely waved hair, swept back on one side by a pearl-studded hair clip.
“Amelia,” my brother whispers reverently as she crosses to him. “You’re so, so beautiful.”
She smiles. “Thank you. I know we’re not supposed to see each other before the ceremony, but…” She breaks off as she approaches Noah and he takes her hand, lifting it above her head to spin her around and admire her from every angle. And then he pulls her into his chest and engulfs her in his arms. “I just needed to see you first. And my wedding planner keeps throwing tasks at me, and I love your sister, but I’m seconds from murdering Emily because she seems to be trying to one-up the wedding planner in her bossiness and—”
Noah captures Amelia’s lips, showing no reverence at all for her makeup. And that’s when I turn away and quietly leave the room—giving them the moment alone they need.
Unfortunately, seeing them like that does nothing to ease the pain in my heart. How am I going to move on from Will? How am I ever going to be held by another man and not wish the entire time that it was Will?
And the strange part is, I still think marriage is a wonderful idea and something I’d like to have one day—but I’m now seeing that it was the wrong thing to be placing on a pedestal of ultimate happiness. I was looking for the perfect person with the perfect traits and the perfect timing, when really, all my heart actually wants is to be fully known and loved. Someone to share the quiet moments with—someone to turn to when everything is good or everything is bad. Someone who wouldn’t be mad if I snuck in to see him before the wedding and ruined traditions—but who’d be just as eager to be with me as I’d be with him. Someone like…Will.
The details were never as important as I thought they were.
In the hall, I’m not looking where I’m walking and run smack into a man. “Oof! Sorry.”