Morgan stood on the church steps, took a calming breath and smoothed her sweaty palms across her light aqua dress. The chiffon skirt blew in the chilled evening breeze and she rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. Her hair was in a loosely braided bun and her makeup was flawless.
Everything was perfectly in place, except her.
She wasn’t supposed to be here. Mike had told her they were done and walked away without a second glance. But she clung to the hope that he’d been hiding his pain from her and that he might actually love her, like he’d shouted in the hallway. That his words hadn’t been a slip of the tongue, but rather the truth slipping free.
Because she definitely loved him. And she wanted him back.
She treaded up the first step, her heart in her throat and her boots each weighing a ton. Though she should have worn heels underneath her floor-length gown, she kept her boots on for one reason and one reason only. Mike liked them. And if she was going to crash his sister’s wedding and tell him she loved him…then she was going to do it right.
Damn it.
By the time she reached the door, her hands were shaking and she swore her feet were going to slip out of her boots from the layer of sweat covering her body. With her hand on the large metal door handle, she stood there panicking. She couldn’t do this. Couldn’t beg him to love her and give her another chance.
Could she?
The door swung open and Brianna was there, smiling. She grabbed Morgan’s arm and hauled her inside, closing the door behind her. “Are you going to stand there all day or are you going to come in and sit before the wedding starts?”
Morgan blinked at the shadowy interior. The church smelled like incense and expensive cologne. The lights were dimmed low and an organ strummed lightly from within the church. “Did it start yet?”
“No.” Brianna grabbed her hand and tugged her toward the double doors. “Your husband is already in there, at the altar. You can sit up front with the family, on the left.”
So, Mike hadn’t told Brianna they’d split up? Hadn’t told his family what had happened? They had no idea and thought she was just another member of the family now. She wasn’t. At all. She couldn’t do this—pretend to be something she wasn’t in front of the people Mike loved.
Not to mention the fact that if she sat up front with his family, he would see her right away. She wanted to watch him from a distance and assess the situation. Get the metaphorical balls to approach him. Panic clawed up her throat, choking her. “Oh, no. I don’t want to be a bother. I’ll just sit in the back.”
“But—?”
Morgan slid into the last pew in the church, hastily crossing herself as she sat. “See? I’m fine back here. I’ll talk to Mike after.”
Brianna gave her an odd look, but then patted her shoulder. “Okay. I’ll see you at the reception.”
“Yeah. Sure.”
Morgan watched Brianna rush back into the foyer and then sank back against the wood pew. She could make out Mike at the front of the church but his back was to her. If she had any luck, he wouldn’t see her until the wedding was over. Then, and only then, could she approach him and pull him into a private room.
He turned toward the pews and smiled, looking as if he couldn’t be happier. As if nothing was wrong. And it hurt to see him so happy. Maybe she’d been wrong to come here. Wrong about his feelings. Wrong about everything. Just as she debated slipping out the back door and disappearing, she realized what a freaking wuss she was being.
It didn’t matter if she was wrong. She needed to tell him how she felt or she would never know if he felt the same. She couldn’t have the uncertainty hanging over her head for the rest of her life.
Someone tapped her shoulder. “May I sit with you?”
“Sure.” She slid over and looked up. Once she saw the red hair and green eyes, and the no nonsense manner in which he held himself, she recognized him. “You’re Alistair, right?”
“Yeah.” His eyes flashed. “But you can call me Al.”
“All right.” She adjusted her skirt and stared down at her legs. She didn’t know what to say to this man who’d witnessed her wedding. Gee, thanks for recording me being a drunk dumbass didn’t quite seem sufficient. “This is a beautiful wedding.”
“Yeah, it is.” Al rubbed the back of his neck. “Why are you here?”
She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, twisting the chiffon dress in her fists. “You know?”
“Yeah. I know you two called it quits. And he didn’t seem too happy about it.”
Morgan stole a quick peek at Mike, then focused on her hands again. If she stared at him too long, he might sense someone watching him. “He looks fine to me.”
Al shrugged. “He’s not.”