Sweet Cheeks(63)

The kiss ends but so does the angst I was feeling. Once again, Hayes has calmed me. And when I open my eyes and look over his shoulder, I freeze when I meet Mitch’s gaze.

He’s standing off to the far end of the banquet room, if you can call it that. The reception is being held in a round room with half the room enclosed like a normal hall while the other is an open-aired covered patio that overlooks the ocean beyond. He’s standing where the open-air portion meets the walled portion, sneaking a peek at the reception before the DJ announces the wedding party.

The connection causes my breath to burn in my lungs and words to escape me, and yet I can’t look away from Mitch. His gaze shows hurt. Reflects anger. But there’s something else there . . . wounded pride or possibly longing?

I reject the thought immediately. Hate that I’d think so much of myself to believe Mitch just married Sarah—like minutes ago—and is standing there taking a glimpse of his reception while the camera woman is snapping shots of his new bride behind him . . . and is wishing it were me.

“He still loves you.”

Hayes’s murmur startles me and yet I don’t move. Don’t want to process the thought. Just want to pretend like I didn’t just see it too.

I break my gaze from Mitch and look to Hayes with a forced smile on my face. My stomach churns over how horrible it would be to be Sarah if she just saw that exchange between us. Because while seeing him scrapes up the melancholy I should have felt over our break up, the affection he possibly feels for me isn’t reciprocated.

Not like how I feel when I look at Hayes. My smile is always genuine and the emotion I feel is real. Not forced. “No, he doesn’t.” Something fleets through Hayes’s eyes. I want to say disbelief or relief—either of them causes parts of me to stand to attention and wonder why they are there. But before I can ask, the DJ taps the mic to get everyone’s attention.

And while the wedding party is introduced, while the cheers go up and the music pumps through the speakers, and as Mitch and Sarah immediately take to the dance floor for their first dance, I can’t help but wonder exactly how I feel.

The moment I traveled all this way for is finally here, and yet everything I came here to prove doesn’t seem to feel so relevant anymore. The meal unfolds, the typical wedding events transpire, and the whole time I’m preoccupied with the why behind this change of opinion. My pride? My bakery?

It all comes back to Hayes. He’s the reason for all of this—the resolution of my past. The validation that Mitch wasn’t the right choice for me as a husband. The overwhelming surge of emotions he’s made me feel with his hands and his words when I didn’t realize I could be made to feel that way to begin with. And more than anything the realization that it’s okay to want more in all aspects of my life.

I feel like I’m starting a new chapter in my life. A different one where I have needs and wants and dreams and passion. While I may want to share that with someone in the future, I also know what makes me happy and that’s just as important as making your partner happy.





I watch Mitch and Sarah take their seat at the head table. Hear mutterings of my name followed by the word tramp. I listen to their speeches professing their love to each other.

I have to stop myself from snickering at their lovey-dovey terms. The gentle nudges from Hayes tell me he feels the same way too. Wasn’t it not too long ago that Mitch was professing the same love for me?

A murmur overheard at the table behind me about how I’m a gold digger. How I dumped Mitch and moved right on to Hayes just because he had more fame and fortune.

I eat the meal I had meticulously chosen to suit Mitch’s preference of seafood and my like of steak.

Polite conversation with the members of our table. We’re all the misfits who don’t fit with any of the other guests. And yet their eyes narrow when I speak. Lips pull tight. Judging me through the rumors. And then of course they break out in a smile when Hayes turns his attention on them.

The clinking of forks against crystal to demand kisses of the newlyweds.

Sneers of disdain and the roll of eyes when I laugh out loud at one of the many things Hayes murmurs against my ear to bring me back to him. To calm me down. Because even though I was invited, in their eyes, I’m not allowed to enjoy myself.

And there’s so much irony in the thought it’s ridiculous. Do these people not realize that if I hadn’t walked away, they wouldn’t be here at all celebrating Mitch and Sarah’s happy union? I walked. Mitch moved on and is happy. Sarah’s happy. I think I’m missing something here. Like how they need to move on too.

Hayes and I are in a world of our own though. He knows no one although they all seem to feel like they know him and want to say hi. I know a lot of people and yet they want to act like they don’t know me and make themselves suddenly seem busy whenever I catch their eye.

I feel like a pariah. The bits and pieces of comments I overhear confound me: Whore. Homewrecker. It figures. It all makes sense now. How dare she? But I ignore them. Have no choice but to. I knew people would be surprised I was here. I figured there’d be some unwelcome animosity—the charity case who rejected Mitch, and in turn them, and their more elite life status.

I hide the pang their comments cause me. I continue to smile despite the burn of tears in my throat. I accept the kisses to my temple with appreciation when Hayes offers them. I laugh out loud when he says something funny at our table of misfits to let those judging me know I’m no worse for wear when all I really want to do is head back to the villa to escape.