She would survive this weekend. She just had to get through dinner and the rehearsal tonight, then the wedding and reception tomorrow. Two days. Then she could count on him to leave—because leaving was what Aiden Maddox did best.

*  *  *

Aiden watched Sophie’s retreat, his gaze lingering on her tall, slender form. She still had that regal look about her—square shoulders, elegant ballerina neck, grace in motion. Her sleek and shiny brown hair wasn’t waist-length anymore, though it flowed well past her shoulders. It would no doubt still feel soft as butter if he ran his fingers through it. Not that she’d give him the chance.

He looked away. Okay, so he was still attracted to her. Not a surprise, really. But he hadn’t expected her to be standoffish. Not that he thought they’d be best of friends or anything, but he expected to have congenial, perhaps even wistful, conversations. He sure hadn’t realized her hard feelings had survived all these years.

Not that he didn’t have some remorse about leaving—he couldn’t regret a business that had become so successful. But he had grieved the loss of their relationship.

Within moments of Sophie’s departure, the party began trickling outside. A celebratory vibe stirred in the air as they took their seats. Sophie was too far away for conversation. He couldn’t even see her from here—but that had probably been the plan.

Once everyone was seated Mr. Foster welcomed them, then offered a poignant blessing. Afterward they tucked into their salads while Aiden made conversation with the bridesmaid and groomsman seated across from him. All the while thoughts of Sophie lingered in the back of his mind.

Soon the waitstaff swooped away empty salad plates, replacing them with entrées. He barely noticed the savory smell of his steak as Sophie’s laughter carried to his ears. He’d always loved her laugh, unrestrained and melodic. Infectious. He looked her way, wondering what had provoked it, but Grant still blocked his view.

Aiden stabbed a piece of steak. What had gotten into him tonight? Ever since his eyes fastened on hers across the restaurant, an ache clawed in his chest. He’d thought about her a lot over the years, of course. She was his first love. He sometimes missed the quiet conversations on her porch swing, missed her generous heart and dedication to whatever she set her mind to. And he missed teasing her about all of it. He’d never known anyone so darn dependable, much less a teenager. But then, she’d had to be those things.

As if on cue her dad stepped out onto the deck. Although Craig Lawson’s impeccable suit and neatly combed auburn hair indicated he cared about his daughter’s big event, his late arrival suggested otherwise.

“Daddy, you’re here.” Beaming, Jenna stood and embraced her father.