Connor looked uncomfortable. “They needed to balance the sides. It’s not a big deal.” He glanced around the filling room, then his expression softened. “Come on. Let me get you settled in.”
He led me toward the front rows on the groom’s side, where an elegant woman with silver-streaked blonde hair was already seated.
“Mrs. Clarke,” Connor said, and something in his voice made me look at him more closely. Affection, yes, but something almost like longing.
“Connor,” she said, standing and wrapping him in a hug. “How many times do I have to tell you to call me Helen?”
“This is Hannah. Would you mind if she sat with you during the ceremony?”
I tensed. I didn’t know this family, I barely knew Connor. I definitely didn’t belong in the front row.
But Helen’s face lit up, patting the seat beside her. “Of course not! Any friend of Connor’s is more than welcome.”
“I’ll find you at cocktail hour, okay?” He dropped a kiss on my cheek, then disappeared toward a side door where other men in dark suits gathered.
I sat down, feeling off-balance. Connor hadn’t mentioned being a groomsman. Hadn’t mentioned being close enough to Alex that his mother knew him by name, spoke about him with that warmth reserved for people who were practically family.
“Connor never thinks he’s important enough to include, but Alex wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Helen watched him go with obvious fondness. “For all the years that they worked together in San Francisco, whenever I wanted an update, I didn’t bother calling Alex, just went straight to Connor. He told me about all Alex’s projects and travel schedule. On therare chance Alex called, he talked about this brilliant paralegal who kept everyone organized, who saw problems before they became crises. When Alex decided to move home to Saratoga last January, he said he couldn’t have gotten the new firm off the ground without Connor.”
“He never told me that.”
“Of course he didn’t. And it wasn’t until Connor left with Victoria that Alex even realized just how much he relied on him. I swear he was the glue that held Blackstone & Clarke together, and ever since he moved to New York for Victoria, Alex has been struggling to replace him. You know he’s hired three people to do everything Connor handled, and Alex still complains that it’s not as good?”
“That doesn’t surprise me at all, actually,” I said with a wry grin, which Helen returned.
“Connor doesn’t think his choices are remarkable.” She patted my hand. “But they are. And so is he.”
The music changed, signaling the ceremony was about to begin. Guests quieted, turning toward the back of the room where the bridesmaids were lining up, but I found myself watching the side door where the groomsmen would emerge, my heart beating faster than it should.
The officiant took his place at the front, followed by Alex, looking devastating in a perfectly tailored tux. Mrs. Clarke’s hand tightened in her lap as her son took his place at the altar.
Behind him walked…
My breath caught, as I saw an honest-to-goodness movie star. Dominic Martin’s tux looked so perfect, it belonged on the red carpet instead of a wedding ceremony.
Behind him came Victoria, in an incredible pant suit with a lace camisole peaking out from underneath. Then—
Connor. He walked with shoulders back, hands relaxed at his sides, looking professional and controlled. But as he took his place beside Alex, his eyes found mine.
Just for a second. Just long enough for something to pass between us.
Then his attention shifted over my shoulder, and I realized I’d been holding my breath as I turned to watch the procession.
A little girl came first, maybe five or six, practically bouncing down the aisle with adorable twirls and flourishes as she threw petals with reckless abandon. When she got to the end of the aisle, Alex scooped her up with a joyful smile, then guided her to sit with an older woman on the bride’s side.
Then a bridesmaid stepped into the aisle, stopping my breath with her confident elegance. Her dress was black satin, floor-length, with a slit and a neckline that suggested she’d chosen defiance over tradition. She walked down that aisle like she owned it, chin up, shoulders back, utterly magnetic.
The whispers started immediately behind us.
“—can’t believe she’s here—”
“—supposed to be her wedding—”
“—called it off and now she’s—”
I glanced at Helen, saw her jaw tighten as she turned her head to silence the gossip.
My heart squeezed. That woman walking down the aisle toward her friend’s wedding, through the wreckage of her own canceled one, with her head held high—that took a kind of courage I wasn’t sure I possessed.
