Page 152 of Slapshot Bride

Preston presses a chaste kiss to my temple and strolls off with Benjamin, leaving me alone with Victoria. She chatters on, and I try to keep up without indulging.

I’ve done this for six years. My body remembers how without being asked.

The tilt of the head, the small laugh half a beat behind the joke, the way you hold a glass so nobody offers you anything stronger. Preston’s aunt saunters by and tells me I look wonderful. His business partner’s wife tells me she’s so glad we worked things out, that these things happen, that every marriage has its moment.

There isn’t a marriage. There never was, but I smile and say thank you.

Yet, all I think of is the note I left on Easton’s kitchen counter, seven days ago.

A week.

That’s how long it’s been since I walked out of his home.

I don’t know what he did when he read it. I don’t know if he’s playing. I checked the sports pages twice on Wednesday before Preston came into the room, and after that I stopped, because he holds my phone at night, and I can’t let him find out I still check on Easton.

My social media pages are gone too. Not deleted, just deactivated. Paused, he called it. Just until the noise dies down.

In seven days, I’ve watched three months of the life I built get folded up and put away in a drawer like it doesn’t matter.

“Riley.”

I turn.

My parents are there.

My mother reaches me first. She holds my face in both hands and looks at me for a long moment and doesn’t say anything. She exchanges a look with my dad.

“Hi, Mom.” I force a smile, one she doesn’t return.

“Riley… come here.” My dad covers the distance and wraps me in a warm embrace.

My eyes sting with unshed tears, but I fight to force them back.

Of course they showed up.

As far as they're concerned, Preston saved me. He brought me home. He rescued me from throwing everything we'd built together away.

It's exactly what Dad wanted from the moment I tried to leave. Now he gets to keep everything the way it was.

His friendship with Preston. His relationship with the Sinclairs. His perfect version of my life.

When he pulls away, he looks at me. His eyes drop to the huge diamond ring sitting on my finger. Then back to my face.

His expression takes on a twist I can’t read. Then he takes my hand.

“Walk with me.”

I don’t say anything, but follow him.

Someone calls out behind us.

I catch Preston approaching in my peripheral vision, but before he can reach me, my mom steps neatly into his path.

His mother joins them a moment later, and within seconds the three of them are wrapped up in what looks like an easy, pleasant conversation.

He never makes it to me.

But my heart is racing with every step I take, knowing I can’t keep it in any longer.