The pictures began to reel through again, and everyone began sipping at the wine the waiters poured into their glasses. I looked down our table, watching our wedding party in their unguarded moments. Sara said something under her breath as Max leaned close and kissed her cheek. Down the table, Will threw an almond at Hanna, and she tried to catch it with her mouth, missing by a mile. George and Julia argued about the ramifications of the return of acid wash. Bennett’s niece Sofia crawled all over Henry’s lap and Elliott poured water for Susan, who looked up at me and smiled, full of such happiness that I could practically see the entire history of Chloe and Bennett in her eyes, and how much she’d wanted this for her son. Beside me, Bennett reached under the table and slid his hand up my knee and under my skirt.

My heart squeezed so tight it felt like it stopped beating, and then took off in a heavy, stuttering gallop.

The rehearsal had been so disorganized that it wasn’t until this moment, right here, that I felt the full force of our impending wedding.

I was getting married tomorrow.

To Bennett Ryan.

To the man who’d anger-fucked me into loving him.

I remembered . . .

“Miss Mills, it would make working with you so much easier if you wouldn’t insist on ignoring all grammatical rules in your meeting minutes.”

“Mr. Ryan, I noticed the company is offering communication training to entry-level managers. Shall I sign you up?”

“Take these invoices down to accounting. What, Miss Mills? Do you require a map?”

I reached for my water, hand shaking as I downed half of it.

“You okay, baby?” Bennett whispered in my ear. I nodded frantically, giving him the calmest smile I could manage. I’m sure I looked like a lunatic. I could feel sweat breaking out on my forehead, and my silverware clattered onto my bread plate as I fumbled for my napkin. Bennett stared in naked fascination, as if he were watching a lightning storm build in slow motion.

“It’s nice to see you finally taking an interest in your physical fitness, Miss Mills.”

Beautiful fucking Bastard.

“And then you’re going to make up the hour lost this morning by doing a mock board presentation of the Papadakis account for me in the conference room at six.”

And I remembered . . .

“Ask me to make you come. Say please, Miss Mills.”

“Please go fuck yourself.”

Bennett slid a calming hand along the back of my neck. I looked up at him, blinked rapidly. “I love you,” I whispered, feeling like my heart was being strung up on a kite, sent headlong into the wind. It was nearly impossible to keep from climbing onto him, begging him to touch me.