Hannah woke up once at about three in the morning to go to the bathroom and put on some pajamas since it was starting to feel weird to sleep completely naked.

When she crawled back in bed, Bruce mumbled something under his breath and reached out in his sleep to pull her back against him. She had no objections to sleeping snuggled up next to him that way.

In fact, she really liked it.

She fell back to sleep almost immediately, and the next time she was aware of anything was when she felt Bruce pulling away from her and then getting off the bed.

Only half-awake, she rolled toward the middle of the bed and eventually managed to open her eyes. It was almost nine o’clock in the morning. There was a brunch in the middle of the day, but it wasn’t a structured event. Other than that, she didn’t have any wedding activities planned until three, when she would need to go to get her hair and makeup done by the stylists Polly had hired.

She had plenty of time until then, and she didn’t want to get up yet.

Bruce had gone to the bathroom, and she could hear the toilet flush and then the water running. It sounded like the sink and not the shower.

She waited a minute, and then he reappeared in the bedroom. He was completely naked, and she lazily admired his body as he walked over to his suitcase and pulled out a pair of black boxer briefs and pulled them on.

He had a very fine ass—firm and tightly curved. He had great legs too and broad shoulders and a lean, toned abdomen.

She liked everything about his body.

She couldn’t believe she’d gotten to put her hands all over it last night.

He glanced over at the bed just then and saw she was awake and watching him.

“Hi,” she said with a little smile.

“Hey.” He came over to the bed, seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then lowered himself down beside her, sliding under the covers.

She rolled over toward him, although she didn’t reach to touch him.

“How do you feel?” he asked, his expression uncharacteristically quiet.

“Good. A little sore, but I feel good.” She paused. “What about you?”

“I feel pretty good too.”

That seemed to cover their conversational duties, so they just stared at each other for a minute.

She’d assumed that, after she’d have sex, she might feel different overall, but it wouldn’t change things irrevocably with Bruce.

They’d always been friends, and he didn’t take sex seriously, so she’d thought they could fall back into their old habits without too much trouble.

But she didn’t feel like she used to feel, and it wasn’t because she wasn’t a virgin anymore.

It was because she’d had sex with Bruce.

With Bruce.

Everything felt different with him.

She was starting to wonder if she even wanted to just be friends with him now.

If they were just friends, she couldn’t have sex with him again.

And she wanted to have sex with him again.

She wanted to have sex with him a lot.

And she wanted to do even more. She wanted things to feel special between them—different than he was with anyone else.

She wanted him to be hers.

They cared about each other a lot, and they did pretty well in bed together.

Maybe he would want it too.

It didn’t seem impossible.

All this went through her mind as she stared at him, just a few inches of empty space between them since they were sharing a twin bed.

She wanted to find a way to bring up some of what she was thinking—without revealing everything—so she finally said, “I... I really enjoyed last night.”

“I’m glad.” His eyelashes flickered strangely. “I did too. Are you...”

“Am I what?” she prompted when he trailed off.

“Are you happy it happened the way it did?”

“I am. I have no regrets at all. It was perfect.” She was suddenly overwhelmed by affection for him, so she put a hand on his bare chest. “You were perfect.”

She met his eyes and hoped—hoped beyond hope—that he’d follow her lead, introduce the subject of their relationship, maybe even want what she wanted. Surely she’d made it easy for him.

Maybe he wanted to be closer to her too.

He kept watching with that strangely urgent look, but he didn’t say anything.

With a little hitch in her throat, she moved her hand, caressing his chest and moving it lower to his flat, taut belly. She played with the thin strip of dark hair that disappeared into his waistband.

She was sure she felt his body tighten, but after a minute he gently wrapped his fingers around her wrist and moved her hand back to the bed.

She froze, her eyes darting up to meet his.

“I’m glad you don’t have any regrets. I don’t have any regrets either. But we don’t want things to get complicated between us.”

It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A very precise statement that made his view crystal clear.

It hurt. A lot. It felt like a stab to her heart.

But she wasn’t going to be foolish or overreact. This was exactly what she’d planned all along—to have sex with Bruce once and then go back to being friends.

“No,” she murmured, pleased her voice sounded mostly natural. “I guess we don’t.”

“It was good,” he said, very slowly. “But it will be better with someone you love.”

And that hurt even more.

It hurt so much she dropped her eyes so he couldn’t see her expression. She lay very still until she’d processed the pain and the reality of the situation.

She wasn’t going to let him know what she was feeling. He’d be upset that she was upset, and then things would definitely get weird between them.

If she couldn’t have him as more, then at least she would keep him as a friend.

She needed that much.

She couldn’t lose him completely just because she’d once again romanticized something that shouldn’t have been romanticized.

“I... I hope so,” she managed to say.

The words didn’t sound right. In fact, they sounded all wrong. She glanced up but couldn’t read the expression on his face.

She said quickly, “I didn’t mean that to sound like—”

“I know,” he interrupted. “I know what you meant. I promise it will be better with someone you love.”

There was something poignant in his tone, in his words, and it made her feel heavy and sad.

But she really had nothing to feel sad about.

She’d done what she’d wanted to do this weekend. She was no longer a virgin, and she’d retained her friendship with Bruce.

Everything was as it was supposed to be.

There was no reason to feel like she’d suffered a loss.

***

FOR THE REST OF THE day, Hannah tried to act normal. She tried to feel normal.

She thought she put on a decent façade, but her heart kept hurting, even as the hours passed.

She and Bruce went down to the brunch that was scheduled for the wedding attendees. They ate with Madison and her date since Charlie and Simon had evidently slept in and weren’t ready to come down yet. They all acted friendly and casual, laughing and discussing the wedding, the hotel, some of the more flamboyant of the guests.

But Hannah felt like she was wearing a mask the whole time.

When they were done, she wanted to look around the acres of property owned by the hotel, so she told Bruce she was going to take a walk. He decided to come with her, which should have made her happy, but it didn’t.

Things weren’t right between them.

They should be, but they weren’t.

She wanted more.

And he didn’t.

He didn’t love her—and didn’t think he ever could.

His heart was simply not available. For her. For anyone.

There had been no misunderstanding his words.

They interacted like normal as they walked a few miles through the wooded trails that surrounded the hotel. It started to snow near the end of their walk, and Hannah was glad to get back inside.

They went to the room, and she rested for a while before she had to go down to get her hair and makeup done.

She left Bruce in the room, feeling lonelier than she could ever remember feeling.

She shouldn’t be lonely. She had the same friends as she’d had yesterday—people she was genuinely close to. Bruce was one of those people.

It was all right that she couldn’t have everything with him.

It didn’t mean they weren’t close anymore.

She made it through the hair and makeup session and then had to go up to put on her bridesmaid dress. It was pale blue and fell in soft folds to her feet. She liked it and thought it looked good on her.

Bruce said she looked pretty, but it felt like he was holding back.

It didn’t feel like he was being really real with her.

Nothing felt right anymore.

She went down to join the wedding party and waited for what felt like forever as Polly got dressed, and then they took the bride and bridesmaid pictures and then the pictures with the groomsmen. She didn’t enjoy it. It seemed to go on forever.

She wanted to really talk to Hannah and Madison but couldn’t do more than text.

She was starting to wish this whole wedding was over.

When it was finally time for the wedding to begin, the whole thing passed in a blurry haze. She was barely conscious of walking down the aisle, although she remembered seeing Charlie and Simon and then looking over to see Bruce sitting on his own.

The wedding itself only took twenty minutes, and then the guests all went across the hall to the reception, but the wedding party had to stay and take more photographs.

Hannah hated it.

She was so sick of smiling at the end that it felt like she was snarling instead.

Finally the photos were done and she was able to go join the others at the reception. She found Bruce chatting with Madison and her date, Timothy, and Bruce smiled at her like he normally would have.

For some reason it just depressed her even more.

The reception lasted more torturously long than the wedding had. They had a plated dinner and then toasts and then dancing and all the wedding traditions.

Near the end, she had to go over with all the other unmarried women and try to catch the stupid bouquet.

She didn’t play along with the others. She just stood near the back and watched.

In some sort of cruel turn of fate, Polly threw the bouquet very far—over most of the other women’s heads.

It came right toward Hannah, so she reached up to catch it.

It was a beautifully tied bouquet of perfect red roses. She stared down at it, amazed it had landed in her hands.

Everyone cheered and teased her about it, and Hannah tried to play along.

But the truth was that Bruce didn’t love her. He was never going to marry her.

And at the moment, she couldn’t imagine ever wanting anyone else.

That truth hit her so hard and so painfully that she couldn’t return to Bruce right away. Instead, she went over to the bar and got a third glass of champagne.

She didn’t normally drink very much, so she’d probably end up with a headache tomorrow. But right now she didn’t even care.

As she was turning away with her glass, she almost ran into a guy who had been in her class all through high school. Jeff was his name, and he’d always been quiet and studious. She’d always liked him.

She said hello, and they chatted for a few minutes. She felt better, more like herself, as she laughed at his jokes and smiled up at him.

He was nice. And single. And not bad-looking.

Maybe soon she’d be able to look at him in interest instead of thinking only of Bruce.

She hoped so.

She wanted to.

She didn’t want to always hurt like this, feeling like she’d lost the man she wanted most.

She’d never known she even wanted him before.

She was still laughing with Jeff when she was suddenly aware of a presence beside her.

Bruce.

He slid an arm around her waist and stuck a hand out to Jeff. “I’m Bruce Mackenzie,” he said with a glare that could only be called cool. “Hannah’s boyfriend. You are?”

Hannah stared at Bruce in astonishment as Jeff introduced himself. He stayed for another minute to make some small talk, but he took his leave pretty quickly.

Hannah whirled around and scowled at Bruce. “What the hell was that?”

“What was what?” Bruce still looked cool and bad-tempered.

“What was that? Why did you do that?”

“I thought I was your date this weekend. Didn’t we have that conversation?”

“Yes, of course. I was just talking to him. We went to school together.”

“That was more than talking,” Bruce muttered. “I’m not blind, you know.”

She was still gaping at him. “Seriously? You’re seriously doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Acting all macho and possessive. You’re the one who told me that it would be better with someone I loved.” She bit the words out like they were poison. “And then you come over here and make sure there’s no chance of another man even looking at me twice, much less falling in love with me.”

“I didn’t mean you should find someone this weekend. We’re still together for this wedding.”

“Are we?”

They were both talking low and angry, trying not to make a scene.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Bruce demanded, taking a step closer to her. He looked like he was ready to shake her, and she just couldn’t understand why he would be reacting this way, why he would be so angry.

It wasn’t like his heart had been touched, broken.

Not like hers.

“It means you have no right to be acting this way. All we’ll ever be are friends.”

He blinked and didn’t answer right away, but she couldn’t read the expression on his face. Then he said, “Even so, I seem to recall that yesterday you were upset about exactly the same situation. Is it really so impossible that it would bother me too?”

She stared at him, almost dazed by the question.

It was impossible.

She’d reacted the way she had because she’d wanted more from him.

But he’d told her very clearly that he didn’t want more.

He had no right to be acting this way.

She couldn’t possibly tell him that though. She couldn’t explain the difference without revealing what he could never know.

So she took a deep, shaky breath and pulled herself together. “All right. Fine.”

“What?” He looked as baffled by her acceptance as he had by her anger.

“I said you’re right. It’s fine. I won’t even look at another guy until the weekend is over. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom.”

She didn’t wait for him to reply. She just hurried out of the ballroom.

She headed toward the restrooms, but when she reached them, she didn’t go in.

It felt like she needed to be farther away. Much farther away.

So she kept walking until she’d reached the grand staircase. She hurried down it and continued until she was walking out a set of french doors onto a patio.

It was dark out, and snow was still falling, settling in a gentle layer on the ground, the bushes, and the trees.

Her dress was sleeveless, but she didn’t even care. She breathed the cold air and walked out so she could look over the landscaped garden. No flowers blooming now. Nothing but bare trees and evergreen shrubs.

She stared out into the night, telling herself to get it together.

Her world wasn’t falling apart.

It was just an emotional setback.

She would be fine.

As soon as she had time to recover a little, she would be just fine.

“Damn it, Hannah!” The rough words came from behind her, and she turned to find that Bruce was hurrying over toward her. “What the hell are you doing? It’s freezing out here.”

“It’s fine,” she said, sounding and feeling exhausted.

“It is not fine. Get back inside.” He reached out to take her arm and try to pull her back in through the doors.

She pulled away from him. “I don’t want to go back inside.”

He groaned, obviously frustrated by her obstinance. He shrugged out of his tux jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She pulled it tighter despite herself. It was way too big for her, but it was warm and smelled like Bruce. She loved it.

Bruce stood beside her for a minute as she stared out at the garden, snowflakes landing on her hair, her face.

“Can you please tell me what’s wrong?” Bruce asked at last, his voice soft and hoarse.

“What do you mean? We were arguing about you coming over and trying to intimidate Jeff like some sort of caveman.”

“You know that’s not what I’m talking about. I want to know what’s wrong.” He turned her around to face him.

She didn’t want him to see what was in her expression. She was afraid it would show too much. She pulled away from him.

“Hannah,” he growled, reaching out for her again.

“What? You don’t get to come out here and boss me around and demand to see into my soul. We’re friends. That’s all we are. You don’t get to act like we’re more. We’re just friends.” Her voice broke in a little sob at the end, at the truth that hurt her so much.

Bruce lowered his dark eyebrows, his mouth parting slightly. He was holding on to her upper arms very tightly. “I thought that’s what you wanted.”

“It is.” She jerked out of his grip, at the very end of her rope. She was going to burst into tears at any moment, and there was no way she could stop herself. “It is!”

“Oh God, Hannah,” he murmured. He reached out for her once more.

If he touched her again, she was going to shatter. She jerked away from him clumsily. Unfortunately, she was wearing heels and the patio stones were slick from the snow. Her feet slipped out from under her, and she fell in an awkward heap on the ground.

She burst into helpless tears.

“Fuck, oh fuck.” Bruce had reached out to catch her, but he wasn’t quick enough. So he leaned over to try to help her up. “Are you hurt?”

She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t stop sobbing. And her dress was soaked from the snow.

She felt like an absolute fool.

“Baby, talk to me,” Bruce was saying. He’d squatted down and was trying to lift her back up. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” she managed to say. “I’m fine.”

“You are not fine. Come on, baby. See if you can stand up.”

She let him help her to her feet, but when her weight settled on her right ankle, she whimpered in pain. “Damn it,” she muttered, wiping away her tears. “I twisted my fucking ankle.”

She normally didn’t curse a lot, but these were extenuating circumstances.

It felt like she was totally falling apart.

“Is it bad?”

She shook her head. “I think it’s just twisted. It’s fine. I can hobble back to the room, and then I’ll put some ice on it.”

He shook his head, his eyes very blue in the moonlight. Very warm and soft and kind.

Before she knew what was happening, he swung her up into his arms.

She gave a soft squeal and clung to his neck. “What the hell are you doing? I don’t need to be carried. I just...”

He didn’t listen to her, so she trailed off. He was already carrying her back inside and then to the elevator.

He was only slightly winded as they reached their floor, and he carried her to their room.

“Bruce, I’m really okay. I just kind of fell apart.” She actually felt a little better now, and she was embarrassed by everything.

He let her unlock their door, and then he carried her over to the bed. She immediately pulled off her wet dress and put on the pajamas he found for her.

He stood next to the bed, gazing down on her for a moment before he went to get a bag of ice to put on her ankle.

It was cold and uncomfortable, and Hannah was angry at herself for being so stupid.

“I’m sorry,” she said when Bruce stood looking at her again.

“For what?”

“For being stupid. For everything.” She was shivering helplessly from the cold and the aftermath of so much emotion.

Bruce went over to turn up the heat in the room. Then he went to the bathroom and came back wearing just his underwear.

He got into bed beside her, pulling her into his arms.

She huddled against him, shivering and trying not to cry again.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t demand to know what was wrong with her. He just held her until she was finally warm.

She eventually fell asleep, vaguely aware that Bruce still hadn’t let her go.