The wedding is over.
The pictures are done.
We are enjoying a toast to the happy couple in the middle of a glorious wooden bridge that stretches the harbor in the warehouse district. The clouds have begun to roll across the sky, obliterating any chance of starlight this evening. Turning back to the task at hand I meet his steady gaze. A warm flush creeps over my cheeks and neck, but I don’t look away. I know he is still in love with me. Does she know?
A splash behind where I am standing turns my head to see Kian, the best man, skipping stones a few yards away. The twin brick buildings that are separated by the bridge envelope his lanky frame like bookends. I marvel at the way the footlights illuminate the old architecture bringing to life its intricacy and charm. The blue and green shutters and windows shine like emeralds, reminding me of the way his eyes sparkle in the first morning light.
As I walk towards Kian, a slight wind picks up the hem of my peach-colored gown, sending it floating around my ankles. God, I feel sexy tonight. I don’t know if it’s the champagne, the dress, or the forbidden desire.
“Do you want to tell me what is going on between you two?” Kian breathes, not taking his eyes off the harbor. Our silence is met with a backdrop of laughter that fills the warm air. The reception area doors bust open in front of us, spilling the sounds of jazz and cheerfulness into the harbor.
Parting my lips to take in the last sip of champagne, I instead, find an empty glass. “There’s nothing to tell,” I say with a smile. I know I am lying. I can tell Kian knows I’m lying by the way he is flexing his jaw.
He studies me for a few moments. I swear I see him peer over my shoulder at the wedding party. “Ok, you lead,” he says, stretching out his hand. We walk in silence.
My peace forever held.