Elle sat through the rehearsal dinner with her family, but her mind was somewhere else. She could see the back of Justin's arm if she leaned back her chair, which meant she had a nasty crick in her neck from doing just that. She wondered about the redhead. Who was she? Why did she have to be so sexy? Was this was heartbreak felt like?

She missed Justin.

Elle wanted to watch his smile light up when he saw her, or when she made him laugh. She wanted to walk with him through the forest to hidden swimming holes and sit with him and watch the sun set over the mountains.

"You doing okay, sweet pea?" her father leaned over, giving them a modicum of privacy. Caroline was regaling the table with tales of Lucy's time volunteering at a hospital in Texas. Playing it up to Lucy’s almost-in-laws. Lucy and Smith exchanged an amused glance.

"Yes, Daddy,” she said. "Thanks."

He nodded, as though she'd delivered some important information. "You know, that young man you mentioned is something else."

Elle's gaze sharpened. "What young man?"

"The one you stayed with," he said. "He's a prominent member of the community up here, you know. A friend in the area said he helped rebuild the elementary school when a big storm hit last year.”

Elle's attention was on her father. “You mean Justin Tate?“ she asked.

“That’s the one.”

She tilted her head. “Daddy, did you ask your friends to look into him?”

“In a way, yes,” he said. “I have to say, from what I’ve heard, he sounds like a good man. No matter what you might have thought about his appearance when you first met him, that’s not nearly as important as being trustworthy and hardworking.”

“Mother would have a fit if she heard you say that. She wouldn’t think he was good people.”

“True,” he said. He sighed, then cleared his throat. “When you were young I spent far too much time working and not enough with you girls. I thought your mother knew what was best for you, but now ... I believe that was wrong.

“Don't let your mother's opinions dictate your own. She won't be there when you are old and gray. It'll just be you and the results of the choices you make."

Elle looked down at her satin dress and pumps. The fabric dug into her armpits and her feet were swollen. Her shapewear felt like a straightjacket. She hadn't eaten much dinner because the idea of making her dress any tighter was unbearable. Down the table, Caroline laughed, her voice high and forced.

“It’s not what’s holding me back,” Elle said. “I know he’s a good man. I think I’m too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“I tried texting him. I tried apologizing. He hasn’t said a word.”

“Did you call him?”

“Well, no.”

“Did you go to his house and bang on his door?”

She shook her head.

“Elle. You hurt his pride. From what you told me, it sounds as though he let you in, and you threw it in his face.”

She winced at the truth in her father’s words.

He gentled his voice. “It’s going to take a lot more than a few texts to get him to trust you again. You need to show him that you’re worth the risk.”

Elle was at a loss. “But how, Daddy? He won’t even talk to me.”

"Do you love him?" her father asked.

She wanted to cry. “How did you know?"

He shrugged. "I've been watching a lot of Oprah in my retirement."

Elle managed to laugh.

“You have to tell him, sweetheart. He might not give you the answer you want, but you have to find a way to make him listen. After that, it’s up to him.”

She glanced over to see Justin and his date leaving the bar. Her heartbeat quickened to a sickening thump in her chest. "There's something I need to do," she said, still looking at Justin.

"I thought you might say that," her father said, eyes twinkling. "Go get him."

She stood abruptly from the table.

"Excuse me," she said to no one and everyone. Her attention was glued on Justin; the way he walked, how the corner of his mouth quirked at something the redhead said.

"Where are you going?" Caroline asked, breaking Elle's attention.

"I need to speak with someone," she said. All eyes at the table were on her. She forced herself to stand tall, to not slink back into her chair and do the polite thing.

“Who could possibly be so important to make you leave the table?” Caroline demanded, narrowing her thin eyebrows to dart-like points. “We're about to start the toasts."

“To be honest, Mother, since you asked, I need to speak to that very sexy tattooed man over there.”

Her mother’s face turned a shade of purple Elle had never seen before.

“You see,” Elle told the table. “We slept together and then I treated him like he didn’t matter. All because I’ve been told since I was a little girl that money, social status, and appearances matter more than happiness.” She stared her mother in the eye. “And you know what? That is absolute crap.”

"Sit down, Elle,” Caroline ground out between her teeth.

"No, Mother. This is important." To Lucy and Smith, Elle added, “I’m sorry for the interruption you two.”

Lucy shook her head.

“It’s no problem,” Smith said.

Caroline leaned over the table, her fingernails digging into the white linen tablecloth. But before Caroline could say a word, Elle’s father spoke up.

"The toasts can wait, Caroline. This can’t.” He stood at Elle's shoulder, a solid, strong presence. "Better go,” he said to Elle. “Or you'll lose your chance."

The rest of the wedding guests were either aghast or amused. Either way, Elle didn’t care.

Lucy’s voice rose above the rest, strong and sure. “Go get ‘im, Elle!”

Elle blew a kiss to her sister.

Before she left the table, she turned to her father.

"You're the best," she whispered. “Thank you, Daddy.”

"You owe me," he whispered back.

She stepped away, ignoring her mother's protests. Elle knew what she had to do now, and it all hinged on getting to Justin before it was too late.

* * *

Night had fallen outside of the Bohemian, and street lamps cast warm circles of light on the pavement. It was a warm night, and the hotel's windows were thrown open to let in fresh air. Just inside, a group crowded a long table. An older couple was bickering, and their voices trickled into the street, grating on Justin and reminding him why single was simple. Single was good.

"Love is never a good idea, you know,” Lynn said, bringing his attention back to her.

"Who said anything about love?" he returned in a dry voice. Leave it to a musician to make things complicated and dramatic. "We weren't compatible. End of story."

Lynn stepped close. The heavy eye makeup she wore made her blue eyes stand out—but it was her knowing look that pinned him to the sidewalk. "Remember when we were kids and I talked about my music?"

"Yeah," he said, he shrugged his shoulders and shoved his hands into his pockets. "So?"

"So you told me to go for it. To work hard. Then, when I worked my ass off but was too scared to do anything about it, you told me to risk it all." Her smile turned sad. “You and Adam—always daring me to risk it big.”

Justin jerked his chin, a small movement to show he was listening.

“The two of you said if I didn't, then I'd regret it forever."

"I also told you girls had cooties."

"Yeah, okay. So you were only smart some of the time."

They shared a smile.

"Adam wasn't your fault," Lynn said, her voice soft. "He'd want you to be happy. And right now, I think you need to take your own damn advice. Jus, this girl might break your heart in two, or she might be the best thing that ever happened to you. But you won’t find out unless you risk big.”

Justin lifted his shoulders as though a cold wind hit his back. He didn't say anything. Lynn huffed out a sigh.

"Well," she said. "I'll leave you two alone."

He snapped his gaze to her. "Two?"

She jerked her chin. Justin looked over his shoulder.

It took him a moment to recognize Elle. She was wearing something shiny and fancy. Pink. She looked like a modern day princess.

Then he met her gaze.

His heart stuttered. The walls slammed down.

"What are you doing here?" he grumbled.

Lynn's laugh floated by as she reached out a hand to Elle. "I'm Lynn," she said. "A friend. And I'm going now. Have fun.”

Elle took her hand and made a weak smile as Lynn took off.

"She's ... interesting," Elle said. "In a good way," she rushed to add.

Justin grimaced. "It's okay," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. He saw her glance at his forearms. "I know your thoughts on tattoos. I'm sure you have things to say about her piercings too.”

Elle eyed the windows of the restaurant. He didn't want to look, but the expression on her face—fear?—made him turn. The people at the long table, including the bickering couple, were now glued to the window. Watching and listening to their exchange.

Puzzle pieces came together.

He turned to Elle and asked, "Know them?"

She sighed. "My family."

He nodded. "Better get back then," he said.

Elle opened her mouth. Closed it. Pursed her lips.

Justin fought a desire to reach out and pull her close. To kiss away whatever made her wrinkle up her nose just then. He wanted to take her to his place and never let her out of his sight again.

Even the thought made him angry. With her, with himself, with the whole damn world.

"Look, I gotta run. You need something?" He made his voice harsh and sharp.

"I have something to say," she said.

"So say it."

Her eyes darted to the people at the windows.

“I’m not gonna hide," he said. "You have something to say, you say it right here."

"I will," she shot back. "Just shut up so I can talk."

He rocked back on his heels.

"I didn't want to fall in love with you," she said, her voice fast and full. Loud enough it would carry to the eager ears inside the restaurant. "You have a surly attitude and like pissing me off. You're a grown man, but you live in a toolshed. Your truck is an embarrassment—“

He started to object—no one insults my truck—but she was on a roll.

"But you're kind and thoughtful. You're sexy and sweet and smart. And I don't know what we have between us, but I know I want to find out." She shook her head, as though frustrated. "I'm in love with you, Justin. And I want to be with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. "You done?" he asked.

She was breathing hard. "Yes," she said.

"Well that's great," he said.

Elle started to smile. Hope lit her eyes brighter than the street lamps. Bitterness nibbled at his insides.

"But I'm not interested. Just because you finally think I’m worthy doesn't mean I'm gonna jump at the chance.”

She opened and closed her mouth. When she recovered, she stepped closer to him, punching a finger into his chest.

"You love me too, you obstinate mule of a man." She put her hands on her hips. "You're just afraid."

"Afraid," he repeated. He didn't like where this was headed. He stepped closer. "Let's talk about being afraid."

Again, her eyes glanced at their audience.

"You're so afraid of what your mother thinks, you stay at a job you hate and date men who treat you like garbage. How's that for being afraid?"

They were close enough her hot breath fanned his face. She looked spitting mad, and like she was getting ready to hit him. Or kiss him. And he wasn't sure which he wanted. He was certainly asking to be hit, and he knew it.

"At least I'm living," she said. "I'm trying. Unlike you, I'm out there seeing people, not hiding away. When are you going to start living for yourself, huh Justin?"

A cool wall of ice rose up, surrounding his heart. Making this moment, this decision cut and dry.

He didn’t need a complication like her. He could go back to his quiet life.

It was over between them. Whatever they could have had, it wasn’t worth this.

"We're done here," he said. He didn't wait for an answer. He swiveled on his heel and walked away.