Page 117 of Only Be Mine

Trevor reached for my hand before the car fully stopped, his thumb brushing once over my knuckles.

“Ready to go in, Mrs. Reeder?”

The name still felt foreign. Heavy. Like something I was borrowing instead of wearing.

I nodded anyway. That was easier.

He smiled, pleased, and leaned in to kiss me just as the driver opened the door. The timing was perfect. The image, unmistakable.

A kiss. A smile. No room for doubt.

We stepped out together, hands linked, greeted by applause and familiar faces turned toward us expectantly. Trevor lifted our joined hands slightly, acknowledging the crowd like this was a moment he’d always known how to inhabit.

The reception took my breath away.

Even with an eye trained to notice details, I hadn’t expected this. The club, already beautiful, had been transformed. White linens draped every table, glowing softly beneath strings of tiny lights crisscrossing overhead. Glassware sparkled. Music drifted through the space, warm and full, as guests laughed and danced and celebrated something that looked, from the outside, exactly right.

I found myself smiling without thinking.

The band shifted, easing into a slower song.

It took me a moment to recognize it - “Perfect” by Ed Sheeran.

My breath caught.

Trevor glanced down at me. “Would you like to dance?”

The question was polite. Public. Expected.

I hesitated only a second before nodding.

He guided me onto the dance floor, one hand settling confidently at my waist, the other clasping mine. We moved easily - practiced, even - swaying beneath the lights as the world narrowed to the rhythm between us.

“How are you doing?” he asked softly, close to my ear. Anyone watching would’ve seen a couple in love.

My throat tightened. The song wrapped around memories I hadn’t invited in - snow under boots, laughter caught mid-breath, hands that had held me without asking me to be anything else.

“It’s beautiful,” I said instead. “All of it.”

He hummed, satisfied. “It turned out exactly how I wanted.”

After a moment, I slipped from his hold and stepped toward the edge of the tent, needing air. The sky beyond had darkened to a deep blue, the last trace of sunset lingering low on the horizon.

For a heartbeat, I let myself imagine him there. Watching.

Trevor came up behind me, his presence immediate, and familiar. He didn’t touch me right away.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

I hesitated, then leaned back into him, his hands coming around my waist, fingers interlacing with mine like an anchor.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “It just feels like… like someone’s watching over me.”

He didn’t need me to explain.

Trevor’s grip tightened slightly, not uncomfortable, but reassuring.

“That’s normal,” he said calmly. “Big days do that. They make you sentimental.”