When she tripped over her foot for the third time and nearly face-planted into me, I caught her against my chest. She tilted her head back, cheeks flushed from laughter, eyes sparkling.
“Still think I’m on fire?” she asked.
I bent low, brushing my lips against her temple where sweat dampened her hair. “Absolutely. Hottest person in this room.”
Her smile softened into something that punched me right in the sternum. She gave my hand a quick squeeze before letting go, slipping back into the line of dancers like nothing had happened.
But the warmth of her lingered in my arms.
I looked around and saw it—a shift in the room. Faces that used to dismiss Ellie now flicked toward her with something else. Curiosity. Admiration. Affection.
And I thought,that’s right. My girl is magnetic. She’s fucking fantastic. Anyone in her orbit is lucky.
Especially me.
Chapter Thirty-One
ELLIE
It was only Monday, and I was already so over my sister’s wedding.
And by the daggered glare my mother leveled at me the second I stepped into the boutique, she was overme.
“How dare you?” she snapped, blocking my path.
Her voice sliced sharp enough to raise goosebumps down my arms. The other women in the shop glanced over, then pretended to busy themselves with fabric swatches and citrus water the way small-town residents always did when there was drama they desperately wanted to eavesdrop on.
“What are you talking about?” I tried for nonchalance, covering a yawn with the back of my hand. It wasn’t boredom—it was exhaustion. Drew and I hadn’t exactly spent last night sleeping.
Mom smacked my hand down.
The crack echoed louder than it should have. For a second I stood there, stunned. My mother had neverhitme before. Something inside me snapped. “DO. NOT.EVER. TOUCH ME.”
Her eyes widened, like I’d just cursed at a priest.
My pulse thundered in my throat. I’d actually confronted her.
Out loud.
And I would not be taking it back.
“She wassobbinglast night,” Mom whined, her shock only lasting a moment before she snapped back into character for the camera. “About how awful it felt to have you upstage her. And it didn’t help with the article in the paper this morning. You had far more photo coverage than your sister. And the camera crew seemed to record nothing else but you and Drew.”
There it was—the spin. The always-lurking cameras; their red lights blinking like vulture eyes.
I hadn’t even registered them last night. Apparently, they made me the star.
Or at least enough of one to make my sister believe the spotlight was off her.
I highly doubted Celia lacked coverage, and regardless, they’d edit me out when the time came.
“I did nothing more than what she asked me to. You were there,” I reminded her, my voice tight.
Apparently, my mother’s shock was short-lived because she was back to harassing me in less than thirty seconds. “She was inconsolable afterward. That Sofia took so many photos and videos of you and Drew ruining her special moment.”
I wanted to remind her that Celia had a lot of “special moments” planned, but kept my mouth shut.
Jenna, one of my sister’s bridesmaids, swept by with her lemon water, and Mom’s frown instantly rearranged into a bright smile. This was her gift: tear me down in one breath and charm someone else the next. I wondered if her hardy approval of Jenna was because she’d married a politician last year and now moved in the right circles.
