Ayla

“You want to dance?” Seth comes up from behind me at Viv and Fernando’s wedding, his hand grazing my low back as I order another drink from the bar. The DJ spins an Al Green song from across the room and couples are shuffling toward the dance floor, surrounding the bride and groom.

Love is in the air. Literally. The newly minted Mr. and Mrs. Almeida haven’t stopped smiling since they took their first walk down the aisle, and they’ve been joined at the hip all night. It isn’t much different from any other day in that respect, but today has truly been something special. So. Much. Love.

I couldn’t be happier for them.

“I’m a terrible dancer,” I tell Seth.

“Yeah,” he says. “I know. And I don’t care. Dance with me.”

He runs his fingers down my arm until he catches my hand, and then he pulls me toward the music, spinning me into his arms once our feet hit the parquet dance floor. I laugh. He’s grinning. And Al’s voice serenades everyone about staying together.

It’s been a week since I left New York, and in two days, I’ll head out to my second stop. I’ll be coming and going, coming and going for the next two months. It’s going to be exhausting, and I’ll probably never want to so much as look at the inside of a plane again when it’s over and done, but my hope is that I’ll be so busy traveling I might be able to stop obsessing over that night with Rhett.

The song ends, and Seth spins me one last time before wrapping me in his arms. Stayin’ Alive comes on next, and a bunch of Vivian’s aunts and uncles rush out the dance floor in a fit of nostalgic laughter.

“I’m going to grab that drink I never got …” I tell Seth, letting him go and making my way back to the bar. The bartender sees me immediately and slides me my champagne. I slip a tip in the jar and head back to the bridal party’s table, which is now empty. Viv had eight bridesmaids, which seemed a little overkill. I was number five, after her sisters and cousins and before her college roommates.

“Hey.” Seth takes Cousin Emily’s empty seat.

“Hey.” I love Seth. I do. But he’s been clinging to my side all night, and I’m beginning to get annoyed. Yes, he’s my date tonight, but it doesn’t mean we’re dating. “What’s up?”

I take a sip of champagne and he takes me in like I’m the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. He’s been doing that all night, ever since he saw me glammed out in my strapless pink chiffon bridesmaid dress with full hair and makeup.

“Can’t get over how beautiful you look tonight,” he says. “Forgive me for staring.”

I roll my eyes. “Anyone would look beautiful with contouring, fake lashes, and a little Chanel lipstick.”

Seth smirks, dragging his teeth along his bottom lip. “Don’t be so modest. You’re beautiful either way, but tonight ... Tonight you’re making me want to do things I shouldn’t do.”

I take another drink, bigger this time. “Don’t get all weird on me.”

“Weird?” He laughs through his nose. “Since when is honesty weird?”

“When it’s coming from my best friend.”

Seth’s smile fades. “Maybe I don’t want to be your best friend anymore.”

“Seth.”

“I mean it, Ayla. I’ve been waiting, patiently, for you to see how perfect we could be together,” he says. “I’m with you almost every day. You text me in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep. I let you drag me to chick flicks. I always let you pick the restaurants. I always make time to read what you’re reading so we can talk books because I know you love talking books but you don’t like the kind of books I like. Anytime you need anything, I’m there. IKEA bookshelf? I’m there with my Allen wrench. Garbage disposal won’t work? I’m calling my plumber guy for you. A string of break-ins on your street? I’m there sleeping on your couch with my baseball bat. Need a ride to the airport? I’m there. I’m always. Fucking. There.”

“Of course you do all those things with me, you’re my best friend,” I say, brows furrowed as I watch his entire demeanor shift in real time. This isn’t him. “Maybe this isn’t the time or place for this conversation. Can we come back to this later?”

“No,” he says, lips flat and nostrils flaring. God, he looks sexy when he’s all angry like this, but still, he’s in the friend zone and that’s exactly where I want him to be. I can’t imagine kissing him anyway—I imagine it’d be akin to kissing a brother or cousin. Weird. Wrong. Unnatural. “I’ve been crazy about you from the moment we met.”

“I know.”

“We have so much in common,” he says. “We fit perfectly. We’ve never had a fight or a disagreement. We love all the same things. We could be so happy together.”

“It’s hard to explain…”

“Try me.”

I swallow a deep breath and stare into my lap at the cloth napkin I’m wringing the life out of.

“I’m still in love with someone,” I say.

Seth exhales, jaw clenched.

“And until I can stop comparing every single man I meet to him,” I continue, “I have no business being with someone else.”

“So that’s it?” he asks, tone colored in disgust. “You’re not even going to try?”

“Believe me, I’ve been trying,” I insist.

“Try harder.”

“It’s not that easy. And last weekend? In New York? I ran into him for the first time since we ended things.”

He shakes his head, chuffing. “Of course that’s where you ran off to. Makes perfect fucking sense.”

“It’s complicated,” I say. “There’s a lot of unfinished business between us.”

Seth rolls his eyes.

“But he hates me,” I add. “And we’re never going to be together. So there’s that.”

“Must be rough,” he says, though I sense some sarcasm there. “Pining after someone for months and months who doesn’t look at you half the way you look at them.”

My chest tightens. I want Rhett. Seth wants me. Nobody’s happy.

“I wish it were different,” I say, placing my hand on his.

He jerks it away, grabbing my champagne and tossing it back in one swallow. “Yep.”

Pushing himself up, he straightens his tie and tugs on his lapels.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Home,” he says, eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit.

“Because I won’t date you?” My face pinches. He’s got to be kidding me right now. “Seth, come on. Don’t do this.”

“I can’t be around you anymore. Not if it’s for nothing,” he says. “Goodbye, Ayla. I hope you and your ... delusional fantasies about getting back with some ex-boyfriend are very happy together.”

* * *

There’s a package lying against my front door Monday afternoon. The return address is the Cutler and Bagby headquarters in Seattle, and I know exactly what it is.

I tear into the packaging, pulling out my proof of Cold Hearted, the spin off of my first book.

It’s going to print soon, and then the world will get to read the story of “Reed” and “Ariana.” It’s a love story born through tragedy, only these two have the happily ever after Rhett and I will never know.

This is the story of us—until about the halfway mark. In this version, Reed forgives Ariana. He understands that she loved him so much, she didn’t want to hurt him. He lets her in. He loves her back, twice as hard as before, and they live happily ever after. It isn’t that simple, of course, but that’s the gist of it.

I started and stopped this story a half a dozen times, starting from scratch every time. I never intended for this story to be so rooted in my own reality, but somehow it came back to that every time.

Maybe it was my way of getting the closure I so badly needed.

All I know is that I so badly wanted to know what would’ve happened if only ... so I had to draw my own conclusions, even if they were purely fictional.

I grip the book, spread out on the couch, and crack the spine. Starting with page one, I lick my index finger and flip through each page; past the copyright page and the table of contents and the epigraph and then stopping at the dedication.

I suppose it’s silly to dedicate a book to someone who’ll never lay eyes on it, but it didn’t seem right dedicating it to anyone else.

This book exists because of him.

I hit chapter one next, which begins the day we met. I’ve changed the details, of course, and I’ve adjusted a bit of the dialogue, but these characters are us and this scene is the reincarnation of one of the most profound moments of my life.

It feels like going home.

And it makes my chest hurt.

My eyes water and the words blur, but I keep reading.

And I know when I get to the happily ever after, when Reed and Ariana say “I do,” my heart is going to break all over again.