I was there when he first saw her in Vegas. They knew immediately they were forever.
Adam never looked at me like that. He kept me hidden, comfortable with the scraps of his attention. And before him, there was a series of relationships that never quite clicked, never felt complete.
What's wrong with me that makes me so hard to love?
The ceremony is brief, with Gunnar and Emerson exchanging simple vows about choosing each other, fighting for their love, and supporting dreams. When Gunnar turns to the crowd and announces, "That's it! We're married!" the kids in the string ensemble hit a slightly off note that somehow makes the moment perfect.
I try to shake off my pity party and glance at Lena, finding her eyes shining with unshed tears and a small smile playing on her lips. Without thinking, I reach for her hand, our fingers tangling together on the seat between us. She looks down at our joined hands, then back at me, her smile deepening.
For a moment, I allow myself imagine what it would be like if this were real. If Lena were genuinely my date for this wedding, not my fake girlfriend, my roommate, or my team's dentist. Just a woman I was falling for, free from all the complications.
The thought is so appealing that it's almost painful.
The reception begins immediately after the ceremony, with caterers bringing out additional food to complement the dishes already on the tables. I grab two glasses of champagne from a passing tray and hand one to Lena.
"To marriage," I toast, clinking my glass against hers.
"To happiness," she counters, taking a sip. A small drop of champagne lingers on her lower lip, and I have to physically restrain myself from leaning in to taste it.
"There you are." Odin approaches us, looking far more relaxed than when I last saw him at family dinner. "So good to see you again, Dr. Sinclair."
"Please, call me Lena." She smiles warmly at my oldest brother. "And congratulations on your masters. Tucker told me you’re job hunting?”
He nods and downs the rest of his champagne. “We can’t all work for the Fury, but we can try, right?” Odin laughs and turns to me. "Can I steal you for a minute, A?"
I glance at Lena, who nods. "Go ahead. I want to congratulate the bride anyway."
As she walks away, Odin follows my gaze, noting how my eyes track her movements across the patio. Behind him, I notice Tucker checking his phone, frowning, and quickly excusing himself from a conversation with our uncle. He heads toward a quiet corner of the yard, phone pressed to his ear, his posture tense.
"She seems great," Odin says casually, pulling my attention back from whatever Tucker’s dealing with.
"She is," I agree, too quickly.
"How are you doing with everything? The Adam situation?"
I shrug, watching as Lena reaches Emerson. The two ofthem immediately fall into an animated conversation. "It's fine. Ancient history."
"Is it?" Odin raises an eyebrow. "Because you look at her like she's much more than a 'summer fling' or a rebound."
"I don't know what she is," I admit. "It's complicated."
"Because of the team policy?"
"That, and... everything else." I take a long sip of champagne. "We're roommates. She works for the team. We're both coming off bad breakups."
Odin follows my gaze to where Lena is now laughing at something Emerson has said. "You deserve someone who looks at you like that," he says quietly.
"Like what?"
"Like you're the only person in the room worth looking at." He claps me on the shoulder. "Don't overthink it, little brother. Sometimes, the best things in life don't make sense on paper. You can trust me because I’m a psychologist now.”
I shove his hand off my arm. “You’ve had your degree for about five minutes, ass-hat.”
He pulls me into a hug and then wanders off to find his girlfriend. I find myself drawn into conversations with various family members and teammates, listening to everyone’s vacation plans and summer training strategies. Through it all, I'm hyper-aware of Lena's presence. The way she throws her head back when she laughs. How gracefully she navigates conversations with my family. The slight sway of her generous hips when she walks.
As the evening progresses, keeping my hands to myself with each passing hour grows more difficult. All the adrenaline and exhaustion piles up in my system until I’m throbbing with the need to be with Lena. Especially when a real band called String Fury takes over from the kids' ensemble, filling the riverside patio with music that demands dancing.
Gunnar and Emerson take the floor first, swaying together in their own world. Lena stands at the edge of the makeshiftdance floor, watching Dad dip Mom with a small smile. The lights strung above catch in her hair, giving her an almost ethereal glow. I approach her from behind, close enough to catch the scent of her perfume but not quite touching.
