“No problem. I’m, uh, droppin’ somethin’ off really quick.”
She studies me for so long that I expect her to refuse. Finally, she nods. “Just don’t be too long,” she says, already rushing down the hall.
I reach for the door, ignoring the slight tremor in my hand, before I tap softly. “Shortcake?” I murmur.
She doesn’t answer, but I know she’s alone, so I tentatively open the door.
And promptly lose all ability to breathe.
Magnolia stands in front of her floor-length mirror looking too beautiful for words with a pensive expression on her face. I quietly close the door behind me, now realizing the music playing from her phone on the dresser must have prevented her from hearing me at the door.
I take a few steps closer to her, unable to tear my eyes away from the sight of her in that dress. The way it leaves her shoulders bared, showing off her tanned flawless skin, and her hair done up in some fancy way that displays the elegant curve of her neck, does me in.
When her eyes catch sight of me in the mirror, she freezes.
“Hollis.”
“You’re”—I step closer, and it’s a monumental challenge to force the words past the growing lump of emotion in my throat—“absolutely breathtakin’.”
A slight flush spreads across her cheeks. “Thank you.”
She turns slowly to face me, and I feel like a damn fool dressed like I am. I can’t bear to spend money on brands like Armani, especially clothes I’ll never get use out of, but this is the nicest suit I own. Hell, I’m still probably an embarrassment to her.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it.”
She wasn’t the only one. Hell, even I hadn’t been sure.
I offer a small smile. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
Gazing down at her, I realize this will be the last time we’ll be together as just Hollis and Magnolia. The last time she’ll be my Shortcake. Because in a few minutes, she’ll belong to Grant.
I move over to the window covered with a gauzy curtain that looks out onto the backyard, where countless guests have gathered. It’s not quite like she’d wanted, but then again, she’d been a young girl who’d wanted a small backyard wedding.
Things change. So do people.
With my back to her, I reach inside my suit jacket and withdraw the letter and the packet. In one hand, I fist the letter tight in a punishing grip. This damn letter holds my words—words she’ll never see, because no way am I fixing to be the bastard who confesses his feelings on her goddamn wedding day.
It’s the end of the line for me. This is goodbye.
Suddenly, someone knocks loudly on the door in three demanding raps of their knuckles. “Magnolia?” a woman’s voice calls out. “Are you still in there?”
Magnolia crosses the room and opens the door just a crack. “Yes, ma’am.”
“We need to get you downstairs in about ten minutes, sweetie.”
I walk to the small wastebasket at the side of the dresser and set the packet of cherry Pop Rocks beside her cell phone before I toss the crumpled letter in the trash.
“I’ll be ready,” Magnolia promises the woman before closing the door. She turns around, and I drink in the sight of her one last time, knowing I need to leave. I shouldn’t even be here.
But now it’s done. It’s over.
I draw to a stop in front of her and carefully place a light kiss on her forehead. “Love you, Shortcake.”
Without waiting for her response, I step from the room and close the door softly behind me.
Magnolia
I find Grant in the spare bedroom. Alone, thankfully.
He turns at the sound of the opening door only to comically spin back around, covering his eyes. “Magnolia! I’m not supposed to see you in your dress.”
A faint smile tugs at my lips. Good grief, do I love this man. “It’s okay, I promise.”
Hands still covering his eyes as I approach, he asks, “Is everythin’ all right?”
The affection and worry in his tone compound my guilt because, well…he’s a peach, as Mother would say. Grant is genuinely a good man.
But I need some answers, and as painful as it might be to ask them, it needs to happen. Otherwise, I’ll have what-ifs hanging over me and plaguing me every step of the way.
I draw to a stop in front of him. “You can look at me, Grant,” I say in a gentle tone.
Cautiously, he lowers his hands and opens his eyes. His gaze surveys me slowly, as if he’s taking in every detail, his expression morphing into one of wonder before his eyes return to mine. “You look beautiful.”
I step closer and smooth down the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. “And you look quite dapper yourself.” I busy myself by straightening his tie, avoiding his gaze while I drum up the courage to ask him.
“Hey.” His tone is low, cautious but gentle.
I lift my eyes to his. “I have a question for you.”
“O-kay,” he answers slowly.
I press my lips together firmly before I ask, “Do you love me?”
His eyes go wide in surprise before he regains his composure. Expression turning fiercely tender, he takes my hands in his. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
I search his eyes, his features, for any indication his words are untrue and come up empty.
It makes my next question that much more painful to ask.
I swallow hard past the lump of riotous emotion. “Am I the person you can’t live without? The love of your life? Do you feel passionate about me?” His lips part, but I rush on to finish. “If I walked out that door”—I gesture to the closed bedroom door I came through—“right now and never came back, would you be devastated?”
His mouth opens to answer, but the words don’t immediately come.
And I have my answer.
My face falls, and I withdraw my hands from his, curling my fingers inward at the painful realization.
Grant wears a tormented expression. “Magnolia, you know what I went through.”
I hold up a hand to stop him, resignation threaded in my tone when I quietly say, “I know.”
He moves to cup my face in his hands, eyes pleading. “I love you, Magnolia. I do. But I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love someone the way I loved her.”
Anguish etches his features, and I know he’s not saying this to hurt me, but because it’s the truth. When he lost her in that car accident, he lost much of his heart, too.
I reach up to cover Grant’s hands with mine before gently lifting them away. When I release his hands, they drop limply to his sides. “I know, I just…” Emotion clogs my throat, and I look away.
“I found a kindred spirit in you that day. That was my first thought,” he says in a hushed voice.
My eyes cut to his, and the sad smile playing at his lips sends pain lancing through my chest.
“I knew just by lookin’ at you that you were where I’d once been. And it took me a hell of a lot longer to claw my way out.” He drags a hand through his hair, mussing it slightly. His voice rises with urgency as he continues. “Spendin’ time with you and gettin’ to know you, I fell in love with you—”