My head is pounding.

Harry has had his eyes on me all night. It’s taken a massive amount of effort to keep my face passive and my eyes from going where they desperately want to.

I want to get the fuck out of here. I start to lean over to tell Milly that I’m not feeling well, when the clinking of silverware on crystal champagne glasses draws my attention to the front of the room.

Harry’s standing up to give his Best Man’s speech. My desire to leave is extinguished.

It’s the first time I’ve really looked at him since I got here. It’s either been too awkward or painful. But everyone else is looking at him, too. So, there’s no one to catch me staring.

I drink him in. He looks amazing. Not miserable, like me.

His hair is cut short again, but just on the sides. His gorgeous dark brown waves spill onto his forehead. His heavy brow and refined features along with his aristocratic nose appeared in contradiction to his full lips.

“He’s rather stylish for a country Lord,” Aiden whispers.

I don’t respond, but internally, I completely agree. He’s wearing a gorgeous navy-blue suit; his white shirt is open just the collar and he looks effortlessly stylish.

When he starts to speak, he sounds happy. The way he had for most our time in Ghana. He hasn’t sounded like that once since I’ve been here. I'd close my eyes and let myself get lost in the cadence and texture of his voice.

Milly, digs her elbow into my side and my eyes fly open.

“Wake up. Bad enough you were late," she whispers, without taking her eyes off Harry.

I didn’t bother to respond. Better she believed that, than know the truth.

I let me eyes sweep the room. It was a huge, wood paneled room that looked more like a place where a Masonic Lodge would meet than where you'd hold a rehearsal dinner. They'd draped tulle and crinoline from every available rafter, covered the chairs in satin, laden the tables with flowers and candles in an effort to hide the room's utilitarian and drab feel. I thought they'd only barely succeeded.

My eyes came to rest on Cara and Louis. They’re a gorgeous couple. He is huge, dark blond, all tattoos and bulging muscles, even though his suit jacket hides them well tonight. She’s as she'd always been, tiny and delicate with hair that was so blonde it would glow in the dark if the lights were turned off. They both have their eyes trained on Harry as he speaks to them.

“I’m not clever enough to make a speech without looking at my notes,” he says.

He makes a big show of pulling a piece of pager from his breast pocket.

It draws scattered laugher from the crowd. Then he looks at his brother and starts reading.

"I've not had the pleasure of being married. But as your big brother, I'm going to continue our life long tradition of me knowing best and telling you what to do."

He clears his throat and looks down at the sheet of paper. "First, set the ground rules and establish who’s the boss: Then do everything she says."

The audience bursts into laughter. Louis rolls his eyes good naturedly and wraps one of his beefy arms around Cara's neck.

"Number two, you have to remember that married life can be compared to football. So be fully ready to spend the week training to make sure you’ll score every weekend. Mum has assured me that playing away from home can result in a serious groin injury and is definitely the quickest way to get on the transfer list. So, don't do it."

The audience groaned at his horrible analogy and I felt an ease of tension in my shoulders as I watch him relax and smile. He shrugs at them, shoots his brother a rakish smile, and winks at Cara. I love seeing him enjoying himself. I can’t look away.

"Number three, don’t let life stop you from connecting with each other. Mind, body and soul. Set time aside to pay attention to all three. Especially the body.”

His mother swats his backside and he yelps, then he looks down at her and winks, completely unrepentant. She reached up to swat him again, but he moves out of reach and the crowd laughs.

"And last but not least, little brother," his voice had turned serious and Louis looked away from a grinning Cara as he regarded his brother, "Don't forget to tell her you love her, and always, without exception, tell her the truth. It's the only way she'll know she can always rely on you."

Even though he isn’t looking at me, I know that the message was also meant for me. Suddenly the room felt uncomfortably small. It gives me the same sensation I get when my shoes are too tight. I look away from Harry, and my eyes land on Freya who was watching me with a furious anger that feels like a slap.

My eyes fall to my lap and there they stay until, I hear The Earl say, “Thank you for joining us, we’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon. Goodnight.”

* * *

"You're sweating, Lil," Aiden teases. He swipes a finger across my forehead.

I swat his hand away and snap at him, “Shut up. You were late." We're making our way out of the crowded hall. The blazing lights, the heat of hundreds of bodies, and the still blaring music are rivaled only by the din of voices all talking at once.

"I missed almost the entire event, including dinner and now I'm starving," I grumble as I shove the doors open. As soon as we step outside, the cold and rich air, bright with the smell of evergreens and heavy with the promise of snow rushes deliciously into my tight chest.

"You're lucky I'm here. Joanna is not happy. Not at all. I'll probably have to ask her to marry me when I get back to make up for going away this weekend.” He gripes. “And, it's not my fault my Uber had no clue how to find the house. It's not even on the fucking map. We're lucky he was willing to wait and bring us here. How the fuck are we going to get back?" His entire tirade comes out in one breath. Aiden blows on his hands to keep them warm as he glances around us disdainfully.

"We'll get a ride with my family." I ignore the rest of his statement entirely. I look back over my shoulder and see my mother and sisters in a huddle with Cara. I feel a twinge of guilt and think about heading back to talk to her. But I can't. He's there and my skin can still feel the sting of the daggers he glared at me all night.

"I'm freezing Lilly, let's go back inside and wait, " Aiden's whines.

"You go ahead. I'm fine. It's too hot in there." I couldn't go back in there if my life depended on it.

"The only thing hot in there was Mr. Tall Dark and Pissed Off and the way he was looking at you."

"Oh please. You always think someone's looking at me." I dismiss him with a wave of my hand, but a ball of discomfort forms in my chest.

"Lillian, I know you’re completely oblivious to your womanly charms. I don’t know why you go out of your way to hide them. But, it doesn’t change the fact that everywhere you go, people look at you. I'm a man. I know how other men look at women they want. Now whether it's to fuck you or kill you, that I couldn't say. But he wants you."

"You're a lunatic and you're seeing things." I roll my eyes, but Aiden’s words set me on edge. I don’t know what Harry wants either. He’s with her. I’m pretending to be with Aiden. This is a mess.

"Oh am I? Well, that would explain why I saw you looking like you wanted to crawl in his lap while he made that speech."

"It was a good speech; I was just enjoying it. I don't even know him."

"You’re tugging your collar. You always fidget when you’re lying,” Aiden deadpans.

I drop my fingers from their nervous fiddling at the edge of my turtle neck.

“So, spill," he demands.

But I don't say anything. I can’t deny any of it. I also I can’t admit it either. I’m ashamed of the way I’ve behaved. And I’m wrecked that somehow the universe found a way for our paths to cross again and I’m still fucking it up.

"Hey, Lil I was just joking." Aiden's arm goes around my shoulder. His voice has gone from ribald to soothing. "Listen, let's go sit inside. It's freezing and your coat isn't really thick enough." He turns me to go back inside and I let him guide me no longer able to muster the will to resist. I don’t know how I'll survive the rest of this week. He’s leaving early in the morning the day after the wedding. I wish he could stay. I’m in desperate need of a friend.

We step back inside and the sounds of merry making make me stop dead. Aiden stumbles when he tries to take another step anchored to my unmoving body.

I shake my head. "Aiden, I can't. I just can't. Please, let's just sit out here."

"Lilly. What's going on? How do you know him? Did he do something to you?" Aiden turns me to face him, putting both hands on my shoulders.

"No,” I say vehemently. My eyes are wide with protest, my voice is rough and low. “It's nothing. I'm just tired," I croak out, trying to find my voice. If he only knew that I am the villain in this story. The only crime Harry ever committed was to ask me to be honest with him and to make me feel good.

"Lilly, look at me." He takes my chin into his hand and forces me to look up at him.

I gaze into the sky-blue eyes of the only real friend I have in the entire world and Iwant to tell him everything.

"Aiden, I have to tell you--"

"Sorry to interrupt this tender moment. Your mother said you two need a ride back to the house." The voice that sets everything inside me alight, booms at us from just inside the door. My heart skips a beat. I drop my hand from Aiden's shoulder and step away from him at the same time. Aiden’s eyes narrow and his head swings in Harry's direction.

"Give us a second," he says quietly to Harry.

I put a steadying hand on his shoulder and his eyes come to me. I shake my head gently, silently asking him to please stand down. Fine, he mouths. I turn to face Harry and steel myself against the breathlessness and racing heart I get every time I lay eyes on him.

He's standing there, coat is slung casually over his shoulders, and holding onto his arm is Camille. The sweet smile on her face is accompanied by a malicious stare.

If what Aiden said about Harry staring is true, then maybe she saw it too.

I turn to face the person I truly care about. I finally want to end this farce, stop pretending that we don't know each other. I want to beg him to forgive me. And to promise to tell him everything.

But when I meet his eyes, my words wither like grape leaves under a punishingly hot sun. Harry's not bothering to hide his contempt with a smile. He's glowering at us,his scorn unmitigated as he looks at Aiden's hand still resting on my shoulder.

"Do you need a ride or not?" he sounds exasperated, as if he's asked us fifty times already. I bristle and shake Aiden's hands off my shoulders.

"Yes, we need a ride. But, I'll ask someone inside." When I start to walk past him, he touches my arm.

“I said I’d take you,” he bites out.

"Excuse me,” I say icily. My eyes fixed on his hand on my arm.

He drops it right away as if he didn't realize he'd grabbed me.

"I'm sorry," he says shortly. He eyes Aiden before glancing at Camille.

I feel a sharp sting of guilt. I take a breath and apologize.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry.” I look up at his face, knowing that his eyes will tell me something. They're always expressive, even when he’s trying to hide his feelings. But in the dark shadow of the old building, its outdoor lighting woefully inadequate, I can't read anything.

"Lilly." He says my name slowly. Like it's a foreign word he's trying to understand and pronounce correctly. The air between us crackles. All at once, I feel like I’ve been transported over oceans and back through time to when we first met three months ago and were so drawn to each other. It’s as potent now as it was then. That inherent attraction, how Harry could see and understand me in ways that no one ever had before, how my body sprang to life and wanted what it had stopped believing in. All this returns from a single touch, from just sharing the same air. It's all still here. And it’s mutual.

Except this time, it’s Harry who has a reason to be pissed off.

This doesn’t compare to a spilled drink in a crowded bar. I lied to him and I mislead him more than once. He has every reason to be angry with me. My legs start to feel like there's nothing holding them up.

"Your mother asked me to give you a ride home, and I’m cold, can we please stop all of these dramatics and go?" Camille says coldly.

"Fine. Thank you,” I say before I look back at Aiden.

I use Aiden’s friendly eyes as my touchstone. I'm afraid that if I don’t hang onto him, I won't be able to stop myself from throwing my arms around Harry and begging for his forgiveness. I’d lose my composure and plead with him to give me just one more night like what we had in Ghana.

When I get close enough, Aiden wraps his arm around me protectively and I let my head fall onto his shoulder. I close my eyes and savor the support and kindness he’s giving me for an instant.

Between my family's indifference or willful ignorance and Harry's malevolence, I feel in desperate need of someone to lean on. Unlike the countless other times when I've felt this way, Aiden is actually here for me.

Aiden presses a kiss to my temple and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

"Okay. So, which way to the car?" he asks. When no one moves, and no one speaks, I look at Harry.

If anger could be distilled and given substance—be made into flesh and blood—it would look like Harry does right now. His handsome features are contorted with jealousy.

"This way," Harry clips out. He and Camille walk ahead of us, her arm wrapped around his.

I wrap my arm around Aiden's waist and on legs that feel like they've been injected with lead, I make myself follow them to the car.

Whatever was between us most certainly isn’t water under the bridge. He’s still angry. His anger does nothing to extinguish my feelings for him. I long to feel the safety and the wholeness I once felt in his arms. If I'm not careful he'll have me on my knees, at his feet, begging him to forgive me.