“More champagne?” Wes asks, holding the bottle up.

“Sure.” I nudge my glass over towards him and he tops it up before refilling his own. We’re sitting at the table in the reception hall, watching a few brave souls out on the dance floor. The wedding went by without a hitch. I survived my walk down the aisle by myself. It had helped, of course, that Wes caught my eye as soon as I made it to the front and gave me a wink and a grin.

The ceremony was beautiful, and was followed by a surprisingly delicious dinner. I’d even managed to give my Maid of Honor speech without completely losing it or totally embarrassing myself. All my obligations are done with now, and Jace and Celia are in that delirious newlywed haze where they’re making heart eyes at each other regardless of where they each are in the room. It’s pretty adorable, actually.

Whatever weirdness was going on with Wes earlier seems to have mostly dissipated, and he’s been sweet throughout the whole evening, always making sure my glass is full, pushing my chair in for me every time I come back to the table. He even made polite conversation with my parents and sisters. Mom was a little over the top — champagne will do that to her — but at least Emma held her tongue.

There still seems to be something eating at him though, and all through the evening, I sneak glances at him, trying to read between the lines of his expression.

This time he catches me watching him and smiles. I smile back too, but maybe a bit hesitantly, because there’s something almost sad in his expression.

A silence grows between us. I scan the room, because it’s easier than looking at Wes. Celia catches my eye, and she looks questioningly at me. I just give her a small wave though — I definitely don’t want her spending any of her wedding night worrying about me. I don’t even know what I’d tell her if she asked. My feelings for Wes are confusing as hell, and I don’t think I could explain them even if I wanted to.

There are times he seems incredibly sweet. And like he might have real feelings for me. But then he always pulls back. And I have no idea if that’s because of this dumb contract, or if it’s for another reason. Maybe the same reason he pulled away the first time. Whatever that was.

And I don’t know if this is what I want anyway. The way I feel in Wes’s presence is indescribable, like I’m in exactly the right place with exactly the right person. But there always seems to be something holding us back. Something murky that I can’t quite see or touch. Something that I don’t understand.

Then again, maybe I don’t want to. What we have feels tenuous at best, like even a light breeze might scatter everything to the wind, just as it did twelve years ago.

That’s it, I realize, stopping with my champagne glass half way to my lips. It’s that with Wes, I always feel like I’m holding my breath. Like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. The thought fills me with a kind of wordless sadness. What kind of relationship can you have when you’re always waiting for the floor to fall out from beneath you?

“Would you like to dance?” Wes says, interrupting my train of thought. “The wedding’s almost over and we haven’t even had a dance yet.”

When I look over at him, he’s holding his hand out. His smile is so sweet and earnest, and I know this is another one of those moments that he’ll pull me in and make me forget all my doubts. I decide to let him.

“Sure.” I put my hand in his and he leads me on to the dance floor. As soon as we get out there, the pop song that was playing is replaced by a ballad.

“Good timing,” Wes says with a grin.

“Or bad, depending on how you look at it. I was looking forward to seeing some of your Kung-fu Fighting moves.”

He chuckles. “Those are in my past, I’m afraid.”

He wraps his hands around my waist and draws me close to him. As soon as his arms are around me, my body relaxes. All my confused feelings take a back seat to the sensation of his body firm against mine, of his hands skimming over my hips. It feels like this is where I’m meant to be, even if my head doesn’t always agree.

I lay my head against his chest as we sway to the music. I’m acutely aware of every inch of Wes’s body, even though I try to relax and enjoy dancing with him, all I can think about is what else we could be doing right now.

I get the feeling Wes is entertaining the same idea, because he pulls me closer to him and his hands slip lower — not quite on my ass, but not chastely on my waist anymore either.

“Is it wrong that I really want to kiss you right now?” he says. His words are buried in my hair, but they get my attention. I pull my head up and gaze up at him.

His eyes are dark, his expression serious.

After a beat, I shake my head. “It’s not wrong.”

“Good. Because I’m going to do it now.”

He leans in then, grazing his lips across mine. I suck in a breath at the sudden intimacy of it. He somehow pulls me even closer to him, crushing my breasts against his chest as his kiss deepens.

When we pull apart, I take a deep breath. Maybe it’s the champagne, or maybe his lips have made me delirious, but I decide in that moment that I’m tired of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Wes,” I say, craning my neck up to gaze at him. “What are we doing?”

“Well, I thought we were dancing,” he grins. “But I could be wrong, of course.”

I smile lightly, but shake my head. “I’m being serious. What are we doing? This … everything. What is this?”

Wes takes a long moment to answer. His eyes go to the ceiling for a second and then light down on my face again. God, I could get lost in that blue. Deep as the ocean and just as dangerous.

“Rori,” he says. He brushes his fingers along my cheek. Finally, he shakes his head. “I don’t know. But … I hope it’s something real.”

My toes curl as he leans over and kisses me again.

I lose track of everything. The walls around us, the music, the slight buzz in my head from the champagne, even the fact that somewhere in this room, my best friend is celebrating one of the most special days of her life. The only thing I can see, hear, smell, taste, feel is ... Wes. Everything is Wes. In that moment, the entire world rolls into a small ball, a wide open plain. Everything is laser focused, yet spread out into an infinity of space and time. Everything is in this kiss.

And this kiss. God, this kiss. Poets couldn’t adequately capture it. Artists wouldn’t dare try. This kiss is everything. This kiss is the only answer I need.

I lean into Wes and let myself be carried away by the moment. This perfect moment. He presses his lips more firmly against mine and I open to him, letting him claim me with his mouth. My mind shuts down in that moment, as if it’s decided my body will be making all the decisions from this point on.

And my body knows what it wants.

My body wants Wes.

“Come on,” I murmur. I take his hand from my waist and drag him off the dance floor.

He frowns. “Where are we going?”

“Just follow me.”

“You didn’t like dancing?”

I stop. Spin around to face him.

“I did. But I’d like something else even more.”

That shuts him up. His mouth snaps closed so fast it almost makes me giggle. Except I’m not in a laughing mood. We find Celia and Jace and say our goodbyes, once again wishing them well. Wes’s hand never leaves my hip, and I like the possessive way it feels like he’s claiming me.

I lead him out of the ballroom and down the hall towards the bank of elevators. It’s late now, and a lot of the wedding guests have already departed, but the hallway still has the odd cluster of people in it, laughing and mingling and clinging to smuggled cocktails and glasses of champagne.

I ignore all of them. I suddenly don’t care if anyone sees us, or what they think if they do. I jam the elevator call button and we wait impatiently while the floor indicator lights tick downwards.

Wes squeezes my hand at the exact moment that the door pings open in front of us. We step into the elevator car as if we were one being, moving in tandem. Almost breathing in tandem.

The elevator ride passes in a flash. There is no question about which floor we go to. Wes is letting me take the lead in this moment, and he doesn’t say anything when I hit the button for the twenty-first floor. I lead him down the hallway to my room and fumble in my purse for the keycard.

“Goddammit,” I mutter. I seem to have everything else in this stupid clutch except my keycard. Lipstick, tissues, breath mints, safety pins, hair elastics, band-aids, Advil — I was determined to be prepared for anything Celia might have needed today. Of course, she didn’t need anything at all, and now the one thing that I need — my own damn room card — is nowhere to be found.

Wes squeezes my hand again, tips my chin up so that I’m looking at his piercing blue eyes.

“Breathe,” he says with an easy grin.

I laugh and let out a breath. Right.

I force myself to go slowly, and find the keycard pressed against the back of my phone. I pull it out triumphantly and then slip it into the slot on the door. The green light illuminates and the lock clicks open.

I take one deep breath, sneak a glance back at Wes, and then twist the handle.