Page 90 of The Beat Match

Annie slapped her hand over her mouth. “Clementine?” she said through her fingers.

The woman’s brown eyes lit up. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

“How could I forget you?” She’d been so quiet in their shared foster home, reserved, distrustful. For three months Annie had invented ridiculous stories while brushing Clementine’s beautiful hair, trying to make her smile.

“I was shocked when Weston called,” Clementine said, her face flushed. “I’ve thought about finding you so many times, but…” She ducked her head as though embarrassed.

“I did, too. Lots. But everything was so hard back then.” Impossible. Life sending her for another loop. Yet here Clementine was, because Annie had mentioned her to Wes, once, almost a year ago. “I had no idea Wes was doing this. I can’t believe you’re actually here.”

Clementine sniffled and caught Annie in her arms, holding and hugging her with equal force. She pulled back and fussed over Annie’s dress. “If I ruin this I’ll never forgive myself.”

“I probably wouldn’t forgive you, either.” She winked. “Now introduce me to this hunk of a man.”

The hunk in question dropped his gaze and smiled shyly. “I’m Jack, the lucky man engaged to this amazing woman.” He looked at Clementine, his sweet shyness melting away into adoration thick enough to taste.

Weston couldn’t have given Annie a better gift than seeing Clementine grown, happy, on the arm of a seemingly sweet man. Speaking of which, where the heck was her prince?

A violin trilled and Clementine clapped. “That’s your cue. We’ll catch up later.”

That did sound like her cue. It was the hopeful violin segment Wes had worked into some of his opening DJ sets, but her groom was still absent. The guests maneuvered as though prompted to assume their places. Vivian took Annie by the arm and led her toward the flower arch and waiting minister.

Annie stumbled in her pretty heels. “Last I checked, the groom should be at the end of the aisle when getting married.” She came to a dead stop, fear locking her ankles. “Did he get cold feet? Is he on a plane to Ibiza without me? Am I getting ditched at the altar?”

Vivian pinched Annie’s upper arm. “What did we say about the questions?”

“Have you no heart?”

Vivian deposited her under the arch and patted her shoulder. “Have faith, young grasshopper.”

The guests stood, facing her, eyes bright and eager. Except for Victor. His severe scowl was as predictable as ever. But the rest of them? They left an opening, the type of rose petal-covered aisle a bride would use to float toward her beloved, but this bride was at the arch, the groom was a no-show, and their friends were grinning, like this odd circumstance wasn’t odd at all.

The violinist switched songs. The small gathering glanced toward where the bride should appear. And there he was. Weston. Falcon. Her best friend and lover, decked out in a tux that hugged his lean lines and probably cost a mint. That man and his suits.

He smiled at her, paused and shook his head as he covered his heart with his hand. He glanced up at the sky and mouthed something she couldn’t understand. Her eyes burned, her throat turning raw and scratchy. She was going to lose her cool before he walked the short distance to her.

When he reached her, she bit the inside of her cheek. She would not cry and ruin this gorgeous makeup. “You did this,” she whispered.

“I did.”

“I can’t believe you found Clementine, and the dress is beyond gorgeous, and the flowers and everything you planned is almost perfect.”

He stepped closer, blocking the gathering from view. “Almost?”

“I’m supposed to be the one walking down the aisle, not you.”

He made a soft clucking sound and kissed both her hands. “That was for me, not you. I wanted to walk toward the most ridiculous, amazing, beautiful woman in the world so she knows she’s the only person who could ever be at the end of this path. You’re the only direction for me, Annie. You’re my compass. Everything will always point to you.”

Biting her cheek didn’t help. Tears overflowed. “Even if I’m standing on the lip of a bubbling volcano about to erupt all over your gorgeous tux?”

He laughed and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “Even then. Now what do you say we get hitched? We have a honeymoon in Ibiza to get to.”

Annie had never considered herself lucky. Not with the rough childhood she’d been dealt. But here, right now, amid their hodge-podge of friends, one rabbit named Felix, the New York skyline stretching into the distance, and this breathtaking man looking at her like she was the center of his world, she’d never felt luckier.

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