Page 46 of Don't Take the Girl


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"If Dallas is your only reason for not working with Gypsy, then consider this settled. Gypsy will be here Tuesday, and you come out on Wednesday, and I'll show you my routine. Don't worry about Dallas. Leave him to me," she says before untangling her arm from mine. "I'll catch up later," she adds before making her way to the main house.

"Who is this Dallas character I keep hearing so much about?" Sydney presses as though she's completely oblivious. I get it. She's eager to see him with her own two eyes. "And who names their kid Dallas anyway?"

I roll my lips to stifle the smirk her subtle jab causes. She's laying it on thick to get the answers she wants.

"Dallas is just a nickname. It came pretty naturally since he's from there." He shrugs like it's no big deal. Willow Creek is not Dallas, but I digress.

"And you are his…" Sydney gestures for him to continue.

"Brother..." he answers, the word lingering in the air as he extends his hand toward the tent entrance for us to proceed.

"Hmm," Sydney answers, walking inside without another question.

"When does the ceremony start?" I ask, curious how stiff of a drink I need to order to survive the vows.

He checks his watch. "We have forty-five minutes, give or take. What can I get you ladies to drink?"

"Two ranch waters, please," I say.

"Make them doubles," Sydney tacks on.

Trigg flashes her one of his charming smiles that I know even Sydney can't ignore. "Coming right up."

Once Trigg is out of earshot, she leans in. "Okay, when he comes back with our drinks, we make up a reason to go to the main house alone so I can lay into that asshole before he walks down the aisle."

"We're doing no such thing. Sitting with the guests, where he has no choice but to see two ghosts from his past while waiting for his bride to walk down the aisle, will be enough. I have no interest in convincing him to choose me."

I can't make my heart stop loving him. We leave parts of ourselves with the people we love long after we decide to walk away. I know pieces of me will always belong to him, but I've also sat with my woes long enough to find my worth. I know what I deserve, and that woman deserves a man who will love her just as fiercely, without waver.

"Then let's ensure we get the best fucking seat out there."

"I can't fucking believeit. I didn't think you were lying, but I also needed to see it with my own eyes. That is definitely him," Sydney whispers as London guides a horse down the aisle, carrying a beaming bride to the groom waiting at the altar. "But he's not the one getting married."

I hate what that little detail does to my pathetic heart. Hope isn't always a good thing. Sometimes it's toxic, especially when it's directed at something that's not good for us. Right now, hope is preventing me from moving on. It's tethering me to a past I need to forget, and worst of all, I now have to sit here and stare at him for the next thirty minutes and try to feel nothing.

Sydney pulls my hand into her lap as we watch the bride's father help her off the horse. "Besides the asshat holding the horseup there, are you okay? I mean, being at a wedding and the whole father-of-the-bride thing?"

From a young age, I have always had this persistent curiosity about the missing piece of my story. I dreamed about finding my father, having a name to fill in the blank spaces, and finding a connection in the mirror with the features on my face. At every age, my reason for finding him evolved, and the year I stopped looking for him was the year I lost London. Visions of my father at my side, walking beside me to give me away to the only man I ever loved consumed me, but when we fell apart, so did my desire to find another man who might break my heart.

Reality, with its complicated humans and messy emotions, would likely shatter the carefully constructed father I built in my imagination. His kind eyes, welcoming arms, and overwhelming joy at discovering my existence lives perfect and untarnished in my mind. The phantom father I molded in my mind possessed the qualities I needed throughout my life. The real man, whoever and wherever he is, carries his own wounds, flaws, and limitations, and I have enough of my own without the weight of his.

"I'm good." I squeeze her hand.

The second he has the horse positioned beside the dock that leads out to the gazebo, he turns around, and the second he does, his eyes instantly connect with mine. He stands perfectly still as time seems to stop. London may not have expected me to show up today after he told me to leave, but the shock that existed a few days ago when we set eyes on each other for the first time in years is gone. In its place is a dangerous, familiar current.

"He's looking at you," Sydney mumbles through clenched teeth.

"I'm aware," I answer as I watch him stand transfixed, as though the world around us has crumbled away.

I wore this dress specifically to get his attention, to make him remember a night I'll never forget, but in my haste to get revenge, I didn't consider how his reactions would feed mine. And maybe that's because I didn't expect him to look at me the way he'slooking at me now—like he remembers the taste of my skin, the break in his voice as he whispered sweet nothings while moving inside of me, and the completeness that settled over us as we held each other.

A flex in his hand has my rational side slowly returning. "Distract me." I nudge Sydney.

"Find out whose wedding we're at."

There's a thought. I was so convinced we were attending London's wedding that I hadn't considered anyone else. I lean to my left, and Trigg meets me halfway and drops his arm over the back of my chair. The move sparks yet another subtle reaction from London as he rolls his lips and looks away.

"Whose wedding is this?"