Page 69 of Playing the Backbeat

“That sounds like me,” I breathe.

Dylan steadies me, allowing some space between us, but his hands remain on my lower back. His eyes eat up my figure, and my cheeks burn.

“You look…”

“Don’t be a dick,” I warn.

“Beautiful,” he says softly.

“Model Number Three? We need you to line up next to Model Number Two,” the photographer calls, a guy Ellie recommended to Bec that she met through her photography business. “Seriously, Ellie. Why does everyone look like they belong in Hollywood?” He shakes his head before adjusting his camera.

“I think you’re Model Number Three.” I urge him forward, and watch his ass as he joins the guys, standing between Dom and Jake.

He turns, catching me staring, and raises an eyebrow. I refocus my attention on my bouquet before carefully following the rest of the girls, standing in a row next to Bec.

Mercifully, the photographer works quickly, calling out the various combinations of photos Bec and Aiden want us to take. I know Dylan’s watching, his gaze burning along my skin despite the snow falling around us. When I finally risk a glance in his direction, his appreciative ogling has my heart somersaulting.

What is happening?

When the photographer is finished, the wedding planner ushers us inside. After thirty minutes and several bottles of champagne, we’re lining up for the processional.

“Before we get carried away by the rest of the day, which I’m sure will fly by much faster than I want it to,” Aiden calls, pulling everyone’s attention. “I wanted to give a final toast surrounded by our closest friends.

“Bec. From first encounters, to second chances, to this trip down the aisle, you’re my everything. I want…” He chokes up,and the room gets shockingly quiet for a rowdy group like ours. “Fuck,” he whispers, collecting himself for a moment. “I want to remember this moment, and all the others, for the rest of our lives. The good, the bad, the shockingly embarrassing.”

Bec’s watery laugh breaks the silence before the rest of us join her. God, those two know how to embarrass themselves.

“It’s you I want to wake up to. It’s you I want to fall asleep next to. It’s you I’m going to build a life with. A life worth remembering. A life worth living. And I couldn’t be more grateful for that. For you.”

We raise our glasses, and a tear finally escapes, slipping over my cheek. It makes sense that Aiden wants to memorize every moment of this day, given his mother’s diagnosis of early Alzheimer’s disease. Life has a way of showing us what’s most important, even if it’s impossible to hold onto it forever. Impossible to guarantee. Seeing that fear and watching him face it anyway…I know he is madly in love with Bec. And by the look on her face, that love is returned tenfold.

“Here.” Dylan discreetly hands me a napkin from the refreshment table, and I turn away from the group, drying my eyes as quickly as I can.

“Damn Aiden and his bleeding heart,” I whisper ruefully, the accompanying sniffle making me sound a lot less tough than I wanted to.

“Can you blame him? It’s a big day,” Dylan says.

“Not you too.” I nudge his chest with my shoulder. “You’re just a big sap hiding in Model Number Three’s body, aren’t you?”

He shrugs. “Can’t think of much else worth celebrating than what Aiden and Bec share. If that makes me a sap, then I guess you’re right.”

The longing in his voice is clear. I know he wants this too. This commitment. This permanence.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find you a date worth sharing the day with,” I say sincerely. “I’m willing to give it another shot after the wedding. No apps, I swear. Only someone I know personally that I can guarantee won’t be hung up on any past relationships.”

He studies me, his expression unreadable. The wedding coordinator calls out names for the processional.

“No.”

“No?” I ask, my heart skipping in my chest.

“No. I’m done looking.”

“For now,” I add, but he says nothing.

“Deanna?” the woman calls, indicating I should take my place next to Ashton, Bec’s brother. I lock arms with Ash, who instantly has me laughing. We share the same sense of humor, and I’m grateful for the distraction, though I can’t fully shake the intensity of Dylan’s stare. Before I know it, Ash and I are walking slowly down the aisle, as instructed, then lining up on either side of the aisle.

Dylan walks down the aisle, arm in arm with Dani, Bec’s older sister. He’s wearing his easy smile, effortlessly attractive. It’d be easier to ignore whatever the fuck is making my heart flip at the sight of him if he weren’t so damn hot.