Page 89 of Heartsmashed
Fuck.Now was the time to do it. I had to tell him the truth before this went any further. Feelings were starting to get involved, and that wasn’t fair to him.
It was terrible timing. I was naked, still coming down from the high, and about to ruin Sawyer’s morning of feeling on top of the world after shutting down Peter. I should’ve done it sooner. It had never seemed like the right time, but was there ever a right time to say you weren’t the man someone thought you were?
I took a deep breath and met his eyes, so warm and trusting. He didn’t deserve this.
And just as I opened my mouth, someone began to pound on the door.
25
SAWYER
BY THE TIME the afternoon rolled around, I had learned three very important things.
One: Rome Montgomery had the worst timing of any human being who had ever existed.
Two: Mom could turn a quick vow-renewal rehearsal into a full-blown military operation—if that military operation contained an obscene amount of flower arrangements and a truly alarming number of tiny votive candles.
And three: Beckett Calder carrying boxes in a fitted navy shirt with his sleeves pushed up should really come with a warning sign.
The day had started with Rome pounding on our door like the place was on fire, announcing—before we even opened it—that Mom needed all the strong arms she could get at the lakeside pavilion. Oh, and that if we were naked and in a compromising position, we had less than ten minutes to become useful members of society.
Beckett had looked at me. I’d looked at Beckett. And then Rome had added, “Also, spare me the details. I have an imagination and eyes.”
So, that was how my morning had kicked off after I’d told Peter to go to hell, then had Beckett for, um, breakfast. Followed by speed-showering, chugging coffee, and putting a pin on continuing the hot moment with Beckett by jogging down to the pavilion with him instead.
I wasn’t complaining, though. For once, I felt good—suspiciously good, the kind of good that made me wonder if it was possible to feel this way or if the other shoe was about to drop.
Peter’s stupid ass had tried to drag me backward, but I hadn’t gone. And Beckett had been there when I walked back inside, looking at me like I’d done something worth remembering, and that look had followed me around all day.
It was following me now, actually, as I stood by the lakeside pavilion with a clipboard in my hand that I hadnotasked for, watching Beckett lift a box of candles from the back of a resort golf cart like it weighed nothing.
“Careful,” I told him. “If you keep doing helpful things, my family is gonna expect it.”
Beckett glanced over his shoulder, mouth twitching. “Too late.”
“Way too late. Two boxes in and Mama thinks you’re staff now.”
“I’m okay with that.”
“Don’t say that too loud. She’ll hand you a headset and ask if you can run lights.”
Across the pavilion, Mama popped her head up from behind a table covered in cream linen. “Did someone say headset?”
“No,” I said immediately.
“Yes.” Rome smirked where he stood by the floral arch, holding a bundle of ribbon. “Sawyer volunteered his boyfriend to be stage manager.”
“I did not.”
“You did.”
“A wedding doesn’t need a stage manager.”
Beckett set the box down near Mom and leaned in when she pointed toward the aisle markers. He listened and nodded, then moved exactly where she told him, and she looked more than pleased. A feat, considering Mom could be a hardass.
Interesting…
Then again, who wouldn’t love Beckett? The man was so close to perfect it wasn’t funny.
