“What if it does?” he asks. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me. His lips are warm, his kiss tender, his arms tightening around me.
When he breaks away, I’m breathless and shaking. “We should go back in. I need to say goodbye before I head to the banquet center and make sure everything’s ready to go for tomorrow.”
Smiling, he takes my hand and leads me inside, not releasing me until we reach the kitchen.
“You look smug, Brayden Jackson.”
“I’m really your first boyfriend?”
My lips twitch. “Don’t let it go to your head.” Grinning, he turns away to leave me, but I grab his face in both hands. “You really love me?”
He doesn’t try to hide the warmth in his smile, and lowers his mouth to my ear when he whispers, “Don’t let it go to your head.”
Molly
By the time I’ve finished checking everything for Nic and Ethan’s reception, I’m exhausted, but I know my mind is buzzing too much to let me go right to bed when I get to Brayden’s. I’m happy with how the banquet hall turned out with all the tables set for Nic and Ethan’s reception and the decorations in place.
And then there’s Brayden. Brayden, with his dark eyes and searching gazes. Brayden, who wants to be . . . who is my boyfriend.
The word fills me with schoolgirl giddiness as I lock my office door and head out to lock up the kitchen. I’ve never cared that I missed out on that. Sure, now that I’m older, I wish I’d handled things differently when I was a teenager, but though I could see the appeal of someone to call my own, I never actively longed for it outside of a practical standpoint. So many nights I’d pick up Noah from daycare, and we’d get home and my other job was waiting for me. Not the caring for him—no, that never felt like work—but the household stuff. Making dinner, doing dishes, keeping up on laundry, paying bills. There were many nights I wished I had someone to share the burden of running a household. But until Brayden, I never dared wish for more.
I lock the walk-in coolers and freezers, and when I turn to hit the kitchen lights, there’s Brayden, waiting for me in the hall with his arms crossed, that endlessly patient smirk on his face. My chest warms at his presence. He came here for me.
“I thought you were heading home from the bar.” I approach slowly, suddenly feeling shy.
“I played DD for Levi and Ellie, but I thought I’d come for you next.”
“I haven’t been drinking,” I say, smiling. I had a beer with Shay at dinner, but hardly enough to call for a designated driver.
His mouth splits into a grin. Damn. That smile. “I figured.” He leans down and grabs the bottle of champagne and two glasses I hadn’t noticed by his feet. “Shall we remedy that?” Before I can react, he pops the cork and fills the champagne flutes. The bubbles climb toward the rim of the glasses as he hands one to me and takes the other for himself.
“What are we toasting?” I ask quietly.
“Nic and Ethan, of course.”
Clinking my glass to his, I nod. “Of course.”
“He risked getting hurt again for that love.”
I meet his eyes, and my heart aches a little as I see there what so many miss—the tenderness, the desperate need to be enough, the scarred pieces of a man who gave everything to the woman he loved and only got a broken heart in return. “Yes, he did.”
“Here’s to courage,” he says softly, and I know he’s not talking about Ethan and Nic anymore. He’s talking about us. I say a silent prayer that, for him, I can be brave.
I clink my glass against his. “To courage.”
He takes a sip and lowers his glass. “May I see it?”
I know what he means, and a swell of pride fills my chest and makes me smile. I turn toward the banquet hall and crook a finger over my shoulder for him to follow. I hold my breath as I open the door and turn on the lights.
This space has never looked so beautiful, and I couldn’t be happier about how it turned out. The white chair covers are wrapped in red cloth bows, and the crystal centerpieces sit nestled in a nest of red and white roses, sprigs of holly, and pinecones. The artificial arrangements look fresh, and I know I’ll get a ton of use out of them.
My staff spent the afternoon draping tulle across the exposed beams on the ceiling and carefully framing the dancefloor with pots of red poinsettias and stark white hydrangeas. Tomorrow, we’ll light the candles in the centerpieces and turn off the overhead lights for the dimmer, softer light of the wall sconces, but it looks romantic even now, with the moonlight flooding in through the wall of windows at the far end of the space.