Page 23 of Wrong Number, Right Grumpy Biker

Behind me, sheets rustled.

"Running out already?" His voice was rough with sleep.

"I have maid of honor duties." I smoothed the dress over my arm. "And you have a wedding to attend as my plus-one."

"So we're still doing that."

I turned. He'd propped himself on one elbow, the sheet pooled at his hips. Morning light traced the lines of his shoulders, the dark ink that covered his arms and chest.

"Unless you changed your mind."

"I didn't."

Something in my chest loosened.

"Good." I picked up my shoes. "I'll see you at the venue."

He sat up fully. "Hannah⁠—"

"We can talk after." I leaned over and kissed him. "Right now, I need to go help Lyra get married."

“I’ll be there.” He held my gaze as I backed out of his bedroom.

I was already running late.

Lyra's bridal suite smelled like hairspray and roses. Bridesmaids fluttered around her, adjusting her veil, touching up makeup, laughing at nothing. I hung back near the door, smoothing nonexistent wrinkles from my dress.

Lyra caught my eye in the mirror. She said something to the others, and they filtered out, still giggling. The door clicked shut behind them.

Silence settled between us. Not comfortable. Not easy.

"I'm sorry," Lyra said finally.

I crossed my arms. "For which part?"

"For not telling you about James." She turned on the cushioned stool to face me. "I should've been honest from the start."

"You should've trusted me to make my own decision."

"I know." She fiddled with the lace edge of her dress. "I just—I didn't want you to feel like you had to choose between being here for me or protecting yourself."

"That's my choice to make." I moved closer, perching on the arm of the velvet chair next to her. "Keeping it from me just made it worse. Like you thought I was too fragile to handle it."

"I didn't think you were fragile." Her voice cracked slightly. "I was scared you'd choose yourself over me. And I wouldn't have blamed you, but I needed you here."

Her “honesty hit hard.

“I would've come anyway." I reached for her hand. "But I would've been prepared. I wouldn't have walked in blind."

"I'm sorry," she said again, softer this time.

"I know."

She squeezed my fingers. "Are we okay?"

I thought about all the years we'd been friends. All the ways she'd shown up for me, even when James had tried to convince me she was dramatic or too much. One mistake didn't erase that.

"Yeah," I said. "We're okay."