Rachel sat on the rocker on her mother’s back porch wearing a wrap sundress. The reception was in full swing in the backyard, her cousin having been married today in a disgustingly perfect ceremony.
Outdoor weddings in Ohio were tricky, but this spring day, the blooms were lush, the wind light, and the sun unstoppable. It was too early in the season for mosquitoes. Night had fallen, nothing but the occasional moth bumping into the porch light overhead.
“Hey, hon,” her mother called, strappy sandals in hand as she navigated the walkway to her own house. The tent hovered in the background, separate bathroom trailer and all. No one had a reason to come to her parents’ house unless they were sleeping here tonight. Rachel fell into that category.
“I’m moving in,” she grumbled.
Her mother laughed as she sat next to her daughter on the wide bench seat. “No. You’re not. You belong in Chicago. You remember when you were here, bartending and working hard to fund school. Even those few months you spent in Florida were wrong for you. Chicago is your dream.”
Chicago was her dream. When she’d worked at the marketing firm with Shaun and moved in with him, she’d been as duped as her dear mother into believing the city would give her everything she wanted. Instead, she’d ended up following one doomed relationship right into the next.
When she’d arrived at her mom’s house yesterday afternoon, her dried tears had reemerged instantly. Then the dam burst and Rachel told her mom everything. About the breakup with Tag. About how she should have known better than to fall in love with a rebound. How she’d chosen Chicago’s biggest playboy, so really it was her fault and not his. How she’d taken a page from his book and tried an I’m-okay-you’re-okay breakup, only to find he was not okay and she was definitely not okay.
“I do miss you, though,” Rachel told her mom.
“I miss you, too.” Keri Foster smiled and pushed a few stray strands of hair away from Rachel’s eye. “Couples fight, honey.”
“Tag and I aren’t a couple.” She said it quickly, but the hurt didn’t dissipate—it intensified. They’d felt like a couple to her. “It’s for the best. We were a wrong fit from the start. He’s not the man for me.”
Lie, lie, lie. Just keep lying to yourself and everyone around you, Rach.
“He was so mad.” A tear trickled from her eye and she swiped it away, angry she wasn’t better at hiding her feelings.
“So fix it when you get home,” her mom said, her rose-colored glasses everlasting. “It’s fixable. You’ll see.”
“Keri.” Her father strode into the yard toward the house. “Rach. Cake is being cut.”
Her mom stood. “Come on, you look like you could use a slice of cake.”
“A slice—I could use the whole cake.”
Her mother laughed as Rachel stood. Keri wrapped her arms around her daughter and rubbed her shoulder. They walked to the tent, and Rachel made a point to pull herself together. This was supposed to be a happy occasion. Not one where she sulked and wallowed in regret over leaving the man she loved.
She’d never taken a moment to tell him that. Maybe she wasn’t as bold as she’d thought. Or maybe she was foolish to think that Tag could change. Maybe he never would. Maybe he’d be single forever.
Hell, maybe she’d be single forever.
The cake was cut, bites fed, photos taken. It was sweet, she supposed. Some less cynical part of her could appreciate her cousin’s happiness, anyway.
Rachel’s parents had skipped the cake in favor of dancing. They looked good together. Her father’s receding hairline and her mother’s smile lines bespoke of the years that had passed. Of the life they’d shared together. A pang of longing shot through Rachel so fiercely that fresh tears stung the backs of her eyes. She wanted a life shared, she realized. A future with someone else was the real reward.
As if in answer to a prayer, a waiter delivered a glass of champagne to her. She put her hand on the stem and started to tell him his timing was impeccable when the overhead lights caught the edge of a diamond cuff link.
Wait.
She’d never seen a waiter wearing diamond cuff links. Wearing cuff links at all, she thought as she stared at one broad, tanned hand.
“Will there be anything else?” A deep, delicious voice washed over her. Goose bumps raised on her arms as she turned her eyes up to find Tag standing over her. He wore a tuxedo, which was ridiculously formal for the borderline casual summer wedding, but he didn’t look ridiculous. Long hair flowing over his shoulders, bow tie perfectly tied, jacket and pressed shirt…He looked like the man who’d stolen her heart without her permission. Even now it throbbed painfully as if in response to being this close to its missing piece.
“What are you doing here?” Her eyes followed as he lowered into a plastic rental chair.
“I came here for you.” His sideways smile went a long way to making her feel better. “You told me that on Oahu. Remember?”
Before she could reply, the DJ interrupted the music with an announcement.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a last-minute toast for the bride and groom from…” The DJ slid on his glasses and read from a card in his hand. “Taggart Crane?”
“I’ll be right back, Dimples.” Tag winked, stood, and then crossed the tent. Rachel watched him go, thinking of the first time she’d seen him on that city sidewalk outside of Crane Tower. And then again at Oliver’s front door. He looked the same, tall, massive, too much hair, trimmed beard—but now he was so familiar that all of her ached to be closer to him. The attraction was foreign when she’d first felt it, but now she couldn’t picture herself without him. He just seemed to belong wherever he was. Wherever she was. Here, at this wedding and wearing that tux, he belonged.
Because he belonged with her.
He took the microphone as feedback screeched from the speakers.
After a quick adjustment, the DJ gave Tag the thumbs-up.
“Good evening.” Tag cleared his throat, adjusting his collar like he was nervous. “Been a while since my last public speaking gig,” he said with an uncomfortable laugh, his voice notably subdued.
He was nervous. Rachel noted the way his hand shook when he swiped his fingers along his brow. Evidently, there were two things Tag Crane couldn’t do well. Play pool and speak publicly.
“First of all, congratulations on your wedding.” Tag waved at the bride and groom, who were across the room at the head table, wearing curious smiles. “I promise I won’t be long. I already asked the photographer not to document this for your album.”
The crowd laughed.
“The truth is, I didn’t come here for you guys.” Tag’s voice dipped and his eyes found hers across the room. “I came here for Rachel Foster.”
Gasps surrounded her as every pair of eyes migrate to her. She put her hand to her warm face and waited for him to say more.
“Ask my brothers and they’ll confirm I’m not one to focus on the past or the future, which is why they put me in charge of throwing parties at Crane Hotels instead of assisting with new builds.” He licked his lips before he continued with a slightly off-topic segue. “Parties are important. Parties like this one. Right? Weddings are a big deal because celebrating the present matters. I’ve always believed that. Living in the present is where it’s at. Then I met Rachel—Dimples,” he corrected with a flooring smile. “And while I never planned for our future, whenever I was with her, I knew I didn’t want our present to end.”
Her heart climbed into her throat and made her next breath a struggle.
“Isn’t that what the future is?” Tag stepped off the stage and walked toward her as he talked. “The present continually unwrapping itself for years to come? When I was on Maui for work,” he said, addressing the crowd with more confidence than before, “I stood on a piece of land where my company will build our next hotel. I could see it.” He refocused on her. “Even though it wasn’t there yet, I knew what it should look like.”
When he reached her, he lowered to a squat, the microphone to his mouth, the only sign he was nervous evident in one shaking hand.
“I see us like that, Dimples,” he spoke right to her, his voice even, his gaze unwavering. “We’re not a bare patch of land, but we’re not finished yet either. I can see more.”
“You can?” she couldn’t help asking, her voice watery from unshed tears.
“Yeah. I can.” He drew in a quick breath. “I let you leave without telling you how much I love you. How much you’ve changed me. I didn’t even know I was broken until I met you. Thanks a lot for that,” he tacked on wryly.
The crowd chuckled again, eating him up. Tag had never lacked charm. Never lacked honesty. There was so much sincerity in his words, but what was killing her was the way they matched the love swimming in his eyes.
She could see it. And she could feel it.
“I love you, too,” she whispered.
He grinned then, the biggest smile she’d ever seen him wear. It parted his beard and showed off his teeth. He snatched her off the chair and lifted her off the ground, hugging her close as he kissed the breath right out of her.
Arms locked around his neck, his hair tickling her cheeks, she kissed him back. To the sound of whistles and applause, Tag let her slide down his long body until her heels once again touched the ground.
The DJ relieved him of the microphone and restarted the music. Couples resumed their dancing, and the tent filled with the low hum of chatter once again.
Tag swiped one palm down his jacket, then over his forehead. “That was terrifying, and you’re looking at a guy who once jumped off a cliff face.”
“Why’d you do it?” she asked, beaming up at him.
“It was my first time in Hawaii and one of the locals dared me to—”
She stretched on her toes and pulled his face down to hers, smothering his words with another kiss. By the time her lips left his, he’d wrapped both palms around her waist and rested his forehead on hers.
Eyes open, he murmured, “Because I love you and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I wasn’t sure if you’d forgive me if I called, so I thought if I showed up, you’d have to listen.”
“Smooth,” she said with a smile.
“Yeah, well. Work with your strengths.”
“Get ready, single ladies,” the DJ announced over the music. “Next up, we’re doing the bouquet toss!”
“Oh no. Not that.” Tag quirked one eyebrow and without warning, lifted Rachel into his arms.
She squealed and held on for dear life as he tromped out of the tent, his hold on her tight.
“What are you doing?” she asked through her laughter.
“Old habits die hard. I’ll explain later.” He tightened his hold on her and lowered his lips to hers. “Besides, I thought you’d be into this whole me-Tarzan, you-Jane thing.”
She ran a finger over his soft beard, her heart full. She was right where she belonged—in his arms and in his heart. “Can I brush your hair later?”
He laughed before turning her on with another lengthy kiss. When he pulled away, it was only a scant inch so he could say, “Love you, Dimples.”
To which she replied, “I love you, too, Taggart.”