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I glance at Grayson as he sees his bride, and he wipes his eyes.
There’s honestly nothing sweeter to me than a man getting emotional over the woman he’s about to marry.
I wonder what Spencer thought as he watched me walk down the aisle.
I wonder if I even walked down the aisle. If I did, I’m sure I stumbled.
A wave of guilt darts through me. How did I do that without my dad there?
Oh, right. Because it didn’t mean anything.
Except I think it’s starting to.
Come to think of it, in the few days since our wedding, we really haven’t studied the photos as much as we should have. Maybe it would jog our memory of the night, and I think Spencer had mentioned a video at some point, something I definitely haven’t seen yet.
I make a mental note to ask him about that later.
I swipe at a tear as I watch the bride, and Spencer turns to glance at me. His lips tip up into a half smile when he sees I’m getting emotional over a bride I hardly know, and he lets go of my hand and instead slips his arm around my shoulders, squeezing me in tightly beside him.
A shudder runs through me at his proximity. At his scent—clean and soapy and sexy. At his warmth.
At the knowledge that something definitely changed, and the more time we spend together, the more this thing between us continues to transition and shift into a brand-new shape.
A shape that I can’t wait to explore.
And just as I have the thought, he leans down and presses a soft kiss to my temple. It’s sweet, and somehow it’s also exactly what I need from him in the moment.
My heart latches on just a little more tightly to him.
Lincoln begins the ceremony with a few words about what marriage means and how he’s had the pleasure to watch Grayson and Ava navigate their love story from the sidelines. He tosses in a few football puns and even more puns about the bakery Grayson and Ava opened a couple months ago, and he has the small group gathered laughing and tearing up in equal parts.
By the time Grayson and Ava recite their vows, I feel like I’ve been on a total emotional roller coaster, and the man beside me has taken every opportunity possible to remind me he’s right here with me. His hand is linked with mine or on my thigh when we’re sitting. His arm is around my shoulders when we’re standing. He’s attentive and sweet while he watches one brother pronounce another now a husband with his wife, and he only lets go of me when he has to since the crowd is clapping and cheering wildly as Grayson dips Ava with a nearly indecent kiss.
The party starts immediately after Lincoln ends the ceremony, as if the deejay was listening for the words.
“Ladies and gentlemen, your newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Nash!” he yells into the microphone, and he starts playing Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance with Somebody.”
Grayson and Ava shimmy down the aisle and right over toward the makeshift dance floor as we continue to cheer for the newlyweds, and we all exit our rows to join them.
Servers walk around with hors d’oeuvres, and after the first song, the deejay lets us know the bars are now open. There are maybe a hundred guests here in total, but there are four bars, which just lets me know that this group means business when it comes to partying.
And I am down for it.
I go with vodka instead of my usual glass of wine, and Spencer raises his brows in surprise.
“Hey, at least it’s not tequila,” I point out, and he laughs.
“Good point.” He orders himself some whiskey, and we take our drinks back to the dance floor as Lizzo sings about how “It’s About Damn Time.” We’re moving and grooving, and then the deejay slows it down with one of MFB’s most popular ballads.
Rather than asking me if I’d like to dance, Spencer takes my nearly empty drink from my hand and sets it beside his on a table, and then he wraps his arms around me and holds me close as we start to sway to the song.
Being this close to him…it’s electrifying. It’s a little terrifying, too, if I’m being honest. Every part of me wants to learn every part of him.
He’s holding me close, his arm snug around my waist, and I shift to glance up at him. He’s gazing down at me, his eyes fire on mine, and as he shifts his hips fractionally closer to me, I know what that look means.
It’s more than just lust and desire, though that’s certainly present too. There’s a need in his eyes the likes of which I’ve never seen in any man’s eyes before.
And what makes it so different is that I feel it too.
