Ben took his place at Adam’s side at the front of the wedding chapel, forcing himself to not tug at his collar, reminding himself that all eyes were on Adam, not him.
It didn’t help.
Adam, who had been Mr. Jitters in the waiting room—talking, pacing, cracking his knuckles, and wondering aloud if it was too late to take up smoking—had become Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected as soon as it was time for them to move. The transformation was astounding. Ben folded his hands together, all the better to hide their shaking, and sidled over to his brother.
“Aren’t you the same guy who begged me to go get you a Scotch and soda not ten minutes ago?”
Adam winked. “Yeah, but now we’re at the part where I know that the reward is gonna be worth it.”
Yeah. Yeah, that probably made all the difference in the world. And as Kyrie began her walk down the aisle, looking almost as amazing as she had right after he’d loved her to wakefulness this morning, Ben could swear he felt something kick into place inside himself. Something that told him that if he could get her to reconsider, his own reward might be right in front of him, taking her position at the far left of the dais.
The other bridesmaids glided down the aisle. Ben registered them absently, automatically, just another step in the passage of time until he could be with Kyrie again. Tonight, once the dancing was over and the cake was cut, once they were alone together in her room, he was going to tell her that this wasn’t going to be the end. Not by a long shot. He still didn’t know how they would work around the obstacles, but damn it, he was a scientist. Surely he could come up with some kind of hypothesis.
The string quartet struck up the processional. Siobhan entered the room, walking between her parents. Everyone stood. Ben spared a moment to take her in, all trembling smile and lighted eyes, before he switched his focus to Adam. And God, it was a sucker punch of happy to see his brother stunned into utter stillness as he watched his bride approach.
Ben had a feeling he could grab the violin closest to him and start playing “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”—the only tune he could remember from his own string days—and Adam wouldn’t notice a thing. Every muscle and fiber and sinew was transfixed by the sight of Siobhan coming to him, and when she got a beat or two ahead of the music, ever so slightly dragging her parents as she hurried to the front, Ben grinned all over. Siobhan wanted to be with Adam as much as he wanted to be with her.
And Ben—well, he wasn’t at that point yet with Kyrie. But when he risked a quick peek in her direction and caught her watching him, her eyes filled with wonder, he had the dizzying sensation that he was on the edge of the sweetest cliff he could ever tumble over.
He caught Kyrie’s gaze and smiled just for her, throwing in a surreptitious eyebrow wiggle to get her to laugh. She choked, raised her flowers, and buried her face in them. Nice recovery.
Siobhan kissed her parents and moved to stand beside Adam, her hand reaching for his, their fingers twining and squeezing before they let go and turned to the minister. Ben felt, rather than saw, Kyrie watching the action along with him. Was she, like him, anticipating that kind of closeness, that need that went beyond sex to something even better?
Ben wasn’t much of a praying man, but at that moment, Grandma’s genes must have taken over. For he was pretty sure he felt the Almighty tapping on his shoulder, whispering a divine Don’t mess this up in his ear. It was all he could do to keep from blurting out an assurance that he would do his very best. And that he wouldn’t mind a little guidance along the way.
The ceremony proceeded as rehearsed. Readings, responses, whispers, and more than a few tears. Candles were lit. Promises were given, both in words and touch and through expressions of wonder and amazement.
Beside him, the quartet shifted into position. But it wasn’t time for the recessional yet. There were still the rings and the kiss and—
—and why was Kyrie handing her bouquet to the Megan beside her and moving up to the front?
“Ladies and gentleman, we have a little surprise for you,” the minister said into the microphone. “As a wedding gift to Adam, Siobhan has commissioned a song, written expressly for this day.”
Beside him, Adam’s head jerked forward. “Babe!” he said before slapping his hand over his mouth.
Ben had never heard a group titter before, but he was pretty sure that was the only way to describe the sound that swept through the guests.
The minister stepped back. Kyrie took his place and nodded to the quartet.
She was going to sing.
Wait.
Kyrie was going to sing.
Which meant—what? Had she and Siobhan been pretending all along, planning the ultimate surprise on all of them? Or had something else happened? Something that made it more important for her to step up and tell the truth than to keep her secret, her shop, her—holy shit, her whole reason for being there?
An elbow hit him in the ribs. Adam. He caught Ben’s eye and jerked his own head toward Kyrie, eyebrows raised in a universal WTF? gesture.
Ben shrugged.
Siobhan cleared her throat and nodded toward Kyrie, who began to sing.
And then, for Ben, everything else slipped away.
Well, not entirely. He was still aware, in a peripheral sort of way that the guests had slipped from indulgent waiting to stunned, transfixed attention. He kind of saw Adam’s shoulders shake. He was pretty sure Adam was taking something white and frilly from Siobhan and dabbing at his own cheeks with it, and yeah, he did notice when Adam broke position to pull Siobhan to his side, kissing the top of her head.
But everything else was Kyrie.
Her voice filled the room, rising and falling in promises of a life shared, a love unending. There were sly little wordplays that Ben recognized as private jokes between Adam and Siobhan, a reference to football, a mention of skinny-dipping. The song bounced through the verses and soared on the chorus, brought to glorious life by Kyrie’s haunting alto.
The song was for Adam. He knew that. As Kyrie delivered the playful verses she focused on the couple, sang to the audience, made sure she kept the attention on them.
But Ben’s gut gave a mighty squeeze when it hit him that every time she hit the chorus—every time she delivered phrases of promises and the future—she did it while looking at him. Like she was singing to him.
Like she was making those promises for them.
For a minute, he thought he was going to have to grab the frilly thing from Adam’s hand and use it himself.
The final chorus came to an end. The quartet echoed the last phrase, the closing note hanging in the air before slowly fading away. Adam pulled Siobhan close for an embrace that left the guests laughing and applauding as the minister returned to the microphone and made a joke about Adam jumping the gun on kissing the bride.
Kyrie slipped back into position. Ben ordered his feet to stay put, reminded himself—forcefully—that this wasn’t his show, that there was still a ceremony to finish, that he and Kyrie would have plenty of time to discuss what had just happened.
Maybe even a lifetime.
***
Once the song was over, Kyrie couldn’t look at Ben, which really surprised her because while she was singing, she’d had to push herself to focus on anyone else. For the space of the song, he’d been her world.
Then it ended, and she snapped back to reality, and put on her bridesmaid face once again. She was swept out of the room on the arm of a linebacker, hustled into place by yet another photographer, told to smile and lift her chin and twist like that, yes, perfect. All she wanted was to escape to her room and talk to Ben, but she stayed and smiled and murmured her thanks when the Megans complimented her on the song. The least she could do after Siobhan’s gracious acceptance of the truth was to continue playing her part and be the best damned bridesmaid who ever walked the planet.
But it wasn’t just Paige’s shoes pinching her now.
More poses. More locations—the conservatory, the staircase, the fountains. More minutes and distance separating her from Ben. Until, at last, the photographer was ready to do shots of only the bride and groom and Wendy told the rest of the wedding party to return to the building and start mingling with the guests.
Kyrie’s heart thumped. More so when she peered through the mass of departing attendants and spotted Ben standing very still, watching her.
As the photographer issued instructions to Adam and Siobhan, Kyrie walked along the stone fence in the opposite direction from that taken by the other attendants. A quick glance back told her that Ben was following. There was no such thing as privacy in the middle of the crowded walkway, but there was a curve ahead, and a skinny tree, and maybe, just maybe, a chance to say what she needed to say.
But when she came to a halt and turned to find Ben right behind her, it turned out the words could wait. She met him halfway, grabbed his jacket, and yanked him to her, kissing him as if her whole existence depended on it. Because in that moment, it did.
“You told her.” Ben whispered the words against her lips. “I didn’t know what the hell was happening in there, and then when I saw . . . when I heard . . . I knew you must have told her everything.”
“I had to.”
“Why?”
She gave him the condensed version—the gift, the singer, the last-minute panic.
“And she was okay with it? Siobhan?”
“She was . . . surprised, of course. And a little hurt. But then she laughed and said, well, it wasn’t what she would have chosen, but maybe fate had known something she didn’t.”
“That her singer was going to end up in the ER?”
“No.” Kyrie pulled back slightly, smoothing the lapels she had disrupted. “That she needed a reminder that she couldn’t control everything. And that sometimes, the thing you need has been staring you in the face all along.”
A lesson that Kyrie had also taken to heart.
“What about Paige?” he asked. “And the loan, and the shop, and—”
“Excuse me, you two.”
Kyrie squeezed her eyes closed as Wendy’s authoritative voice cut through the voices and horns. She moved back.
Ben’s grip on her waist tightened.
“Relax,” she said, settling her hand over his. “I’m not going anywhere this time. Not unless it’s with you.”
***
Ben stepped out of the shower the next morning, reached for his towel, and heard Kyrie’s laughter floating in from the bedroom.
It was a hell of a lot more welcome than a note on the table.
Also a hell of a lot more encouraging, considering that her parting words before he slipped out of the bed were that she was going to call Paige and tell her everything.
There hadn’t been time for that call yesterday. Nor had there been a chance for the two of them to talk about what was going to happen next, other than a few promises traded when they were able to dance together. They had stumbled back to the room too tired for any conversation deeper than Sweet dreams, and when they woke this morning—well—as Kyrie had said, there was important, and then there was imperative.
But now . . .
He slipped beneath the sheets and pulled her close, soaking up the feel of her warmth against his skin. She switched the phone to her other hand and rubbed her cheek against his chest. His pulse spiked.
They really had to get moving on these plans for forever.
“I’ll see you next week,” Kyrie said. “Have a safe trip back.”
“What did she say?” he asked as Kyrie ended the call and dropped her phone on the bedside table.
“At first she said a lot of things that I don’t want to repeat. But once she heard the whole story, she knew right away that I did the right thing. It was Siobhan’s wedding. How could I not help?”
“Okay, but what about the loan?”
“She agreed that the end justified the means. We came up with a deal. I only need to repay half, and I have twice as long to do it.”
“That seems fair.”
“I’m glad you think so. It was my idea.” She wriggled a bit closer, playing hell with his concentration. “She drove a tough bargain, though. She insisted on free coffee for life.”
That sounded like the opening he needed. “Speaking of bargains, I think we have one that’s still not finished.”
“What do you—Oh.” Her blush went far enough below her neck that he had to avert his eyes to stay focused.
“Yeah, oh.” He yielded to temptation and kissed the tip of her nose. “Why’d you leave the lake, Kyrie? For real this time.”
“It wasn’t all a lie. I do suck at good-byes.” She bit her lip. “But only when I really don’t want to leave the other person.”
“That’s . . . encouraging.”
He was pretty sure there was more to it. Could he explain how he knew? No. He just knew.
Maybe there really was something to Grandma’s lines about lover’s intuition.
“The real reason was . . . I was afraid that if I stayed—if we had one more night together . . . I would end up falling for you. Totally and completely. And I knew that would only lead to a mess, because I wanted to be home and you wanted to be all over the world, and I wanted to build my business and you wanted adventure, and I thought . . . I was pretty sure there was no way around those things.”
“But now you think there might be?”
“Now, I think . . . no. I know.”
“Knowing is good.”
“So is learning. Especially when it’s something about yourself.” She breathed in deeply. Parts brushed parts.
He checked the clock. How much time did they have before the farewell brunch?
“Remember what you said, about how you liked to learn about new places because it made you feel stronger? Well, I’m kind of the same way. Except it was the other way around. You got stronger by mastering new places. I got strength from familiarity and routine.”
He thought of his days in the hospital, when the first fear and newness had passed and he learned to take pleasure in the predictable schedule of nurse visits and pain meds and meal trays.
“I think I understand,” he said.
“But the thing is, nothing has been routine since I left the lake. Okay, I was still in the same place, but I was learning all kinds of new things, all about codes and wiring and mortgages and . . . and everything. Things I never believed I could master, but I did. Because you had convinced me I could make it happen.”
“Kyr . . .”
She pushed up on her elbows and gazed down at him. “Listen to me, Ben. I kept telling myself I was opening the shop because you gave me the guts to do it. And that’s true. But the other part was . . . I did it to keep you close to me. Everything about it reminded me of you and the lake and us. But I finally got a clue. I could settle for the substitute, or I could take a chance and maybe end up with the real thing.”
“God, Kyrie.” He swallowed hard, his hands at her waist. “I’m not letting you go again.”
“Me, either. There’s no way of getting over you, Ben, and I’m not going to go hunting for one.” Her eyes softened. “Especially when it’s far more satisfying to think of a way we can both get what we want.”
“You think I want anything but you?”
“Right at this moment?” She glanced at the telltale tent pole holding up the sheet. “No. But we have to get out of bed eventually.”
“Not if I tie you to the bedpost.”
“Be serious. My sister Jenna . . . she’s going through a rough time. She was in a bad accident, and her marriage just ended, and she . . . she needs some focus. I thought, maybe, she could take over the day-to-day management of the shop.”
This time, the jump in his heart rate was all about hope. With, yeah, some lust thrown in, just because.
“Where will you be while your sister is running things?”
“I thought maybe I could ditch the building and make a coffee shop on wheels.”
Screw the brunch. “And where might those wheels be headed?” he asked as his hands ran slowly down her ribs.
“That part is open for discussion.”
“You know,” he said, gripping her hips, “there’s something to be said for having a home base. Especially if it’s filled with good coffee and great music.”
“But what about seeing the world?”
“There’s a lot of places around the globe that grow coffee.” With a hand on either side of her, he guided her to the precise spot he needed her. She closed her eyes and he breathed her in, committing the moment to memory.
“Ben? I know the real reason I couldn’t say good-bye.”
He rose to kiss her, murmuring his question against her lips. “Why’s that?”
“Because there wouldn’t have been anything good about it.” She smiled down at him and moved over him and joy jumped within him like the water from the fountains outside her window. “It turns out I’m really lousy at lying. Especially to myself.”