Chapter two
Daphne
Itookadeep breath, clasping my sweaty hands around the bouquet and feeling like my lungs were vibrating. Were you supposed to be this nervous when it wasn’t even your own wedding?
I could hear the low murmur of voices as the guests mingled, the soft strumming of an acoustic guitar in the background creating an ambiance of romance. You’d think the presence of a huge rock star would be the reason for my rapidly increasing sense of panic, but it wasn’t.
No, the source of my anxiety was none other than the one-man wrecking ball known as Silas Harrison.
It had been more than a year since I’d last seen him. More than a year of pathetic pining on my part. Although, if I was being honest, my pining for Silas had been going on far longer than I cared to admit. My foolish school-girl heart had latched onto him before I even knew what love meant, and unfortunately for me, it refused to let him go.
Smoothing the non-existent wrinkles from my navy dress, I turned my head as Penelope approached, her cheeks flushed and her smile huge.
“You ready for this? Stone is a lot to handle,” I teased. “There’s still time to run.”
“Not a chance,” she replied, reaching for my hand. “That man is mine. I’m never running from him again.”
I squeezed her fingers, so happy that my brother found this fierce woman to stand by his side. Penelope was the perfect bright and joyful compliment to his gruff and moody self. And as a bonus, I got a sister I could actually stand to be around.
Walking down the aisle was an exercise in fortitude, using every ounce of strength I had to try and keep my gaze off of Silas.
And I failed miserably.
The moment my eyes met his, I could feel all the years of longing rushing to the surface, causing every nerve ending in my body to tingle. Every hope my heart had ever had was right there, waiting to rise up and drown me.
Did he know? Could he see my dreams for our future in my eyes?
He was so handsome in his perfectly pressed suit with the navy tie and pocket square to match my dress, his dark blonde hair styled in that messy I-just-naturally-look-this-good way. I remembered running my fingers through that hair the one time we’d been together, that stolen moment far too fleeting. I had held him close, trying to touch every part of him I could and knowing there would never be a moment in my life where I would be happier, where I would feel more whole than I had while I was in Silas’s arms.
Looking at him as I walked slowly down the aisle, it was hard to remember to hide my hurt. To not let him see that he tore my heart out when he pushed me away. I scoured his face for a sign that he felt a fraction of the pain that I did. Just a look or a gesture; something to indicate he still felt anything for me. But as I approached the altar, the only sign of life was the rhythmic clenching of his jaw.
For one moment, I caught a glimpse of the fierce fire in his eyes; the fire that had once given me hope that we would find a way to reach our happy ending. Now only brought me pain, every glance adding another crack to my already battered heart. But just as quickly as I noticed it, Silas put his walls back up, and I watched as he hid from me again, that fire dying behind the mask he wore so well.
Hours later I found myself sitting alone at a table, watching my brother and his new wife dancing by the pool, their arms around each other while they stared into each other’s eyes, and I tried not to let the jealousy creep up on me.
Turning away, I let my gaze wander around the guests while toying idly with the stem of my wineglass. I was so lost in thought that when a hand appeared in front of me, I jumped, sloshing the white wine over the rim and creating a sticky mess of my fingers.
“Damn,” I cursed softly, reaching for the nearest linen napkin and trying to sop up the mess.
“Let me,” came the deep voice that haunted my dreams. I froze, watching as he took the napkin from me. Reaching out, Silas gently grasped my wrist and dabbed the cloth against my wet fingers, his touch soft and his skin hot. I stared at our hands, his rough and work worn, mine pale and soft. The contrast there spoke of so many things between us, but where Silas viewed them as obstacles, I saw them as opportunities. Opportunities to grow, to learn about the differences in each other and embrace them.
I wanted his calloused hands to show me the world through his eyes.
I wanted my soft ones to smooth over his hardships and give him a place to rest.
But none of that mattered now.
He made sure of that.
Feeling the hollowness in my chest expanding, I withdrew my hand from his grasp and cleared my throat. “Thank you.”
“Anytime, Princess,” he said softly, and I could hear the smirk in his words.
Frowning, I finally looked up at him where he stood next to my chair. He had taken his jacket off and now stood only in his black dress pants and white button down, tie gone, and the first two buttons undone. He had his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, which, as any woman will tell you, increased his sex appeal at least ten-fold.
How dare he look that good and say those words to me?
“Don’t,” I said stiffly, looking away again. “Don’t come over here and talk to me like everything is okay. Everything is not okay.”
Silas blew out a sigh. “I know it’s not,” he answered honestly, his hands sliding into his pants pockets. “But that doesn’t mean it can’t be again.”
I looked up at him, raising one eyebrow incredulously. “Is that so?”