The wedding ceremony was so moving that even I was going to start believing in true love.

But I was pleased to report that my cynicism remained intact. I was sure that this kind of miracle was possible for certain people, those who had trained their hearts during their lives to flex the muscles that opened them up to letting others in. You know, the kind of people who grew up with examples of love all around them

It wasn't for me.

That was the mantra that resonated in my mind as the bridal party waited to enter the church. The guy beside me showed me pictures of his kids, all with the same chubby and pink cheeks that he had. They were an adorable family, and I had no doubt that his kids would grow up to be as nice as their dad. The only couple in front of us was the best man and maid of honor. Estelle was visibly flustered as she linked her arm through Miguel's. She'd already admitted under the influence of mimosas that if she weren't engaged already, he'd be the bachelor to beat other bitches with a stick for. Her words, not mine.

Because that was the hottest topic of conversation after the bride and groom, the fact that the best man didn't come with a plus one.

As the church doors opened and we started our ascent into the altar steps, my mantra shifted into he's not for me.

I'd worked myself into a pissy mood that way, to the point that where everybody else shed tears at the vows that the bride and groom exchanged, I remained with a placid and stony smile on my face. When the reception finally started, I hit the cocktail bar hard.

"Addy! Come take pictures with me, let's show off your creations," my newlywed best friend said.

The photographer struggled with keeping us glamorous. It didn't matter what the backdrop was, an amazing sunset, elaborate flower arrangements, the cake, it all faded out of focus because of the fact that we couldn't stop giggling.

"Who would have imagined?" she asked at some point, while the photographer changed the lens. She looked at the new ring in her hand. "Married."

"Pff, I did. You guys were practically married since we were in high school."

Page's expression shifted into unexpected nostalgia. "For a while I didn't know if we were going to make it."

After college they'd got jobs across the country, Jace in Seattle and Page in New York, and it had been a rough few years where other people tried to come into the picture and take away Page and Jace's happily ever after. But in the end, they made it. Page sacrificed a lucrative job to move to one with less responsibility and excitement, but much closer to Jace. They moved together, made it work, and although I knew she regretted the setback to her career, she didn't for a second doubt it was the right decision. Her heart belonged to her husband, after all.

I wondered what that felt like, to want to be with someone and support them so much that you were willing to give up things that were important to you.

Estelle asked everybody to please take their seats for the toasts by the best man and maid of honor, followed by the dinner. I tossed back the rest of my drink and walked around, looking for my name. I found it on one of the tables closest to the celebrated couple. After I took a seat, I looked at the names besides my seat and cursed.

When I twisted around to glare at Page, she gave me the sweetest smile.

So much for yesterday's apologies!

The stiff smile came back to me as the Bernals and Charlie's boyfriend took their seats around me. My escort during the ceremony and his wife joined us, as well as one more lady from the bridal party who had come without company.

"I have to say, I don't care much for these things but girl," Charlie said as she looked me up and down. "Your dress is just va va boom."

I inclined my head, twirling my hand as though she were a queen and this were her court.

"Thank you, I am open for business to friends only."

Miguel tapped his chin with his index finger. "I might have a society party or two coming up. You think you could make me a gown? I like the really long, trailing ones."

For a second my jaw hung open, but then I started laughing as I remembered the dress I'd got him in all those years ago. The design that scored me the internship that would change my life. His eyes twinkled as my amusement spread to him. I didn't know if he was tipsy too, but we both struggled with quieting down before Estelle gave her speech. She even had to say ahem twice.

As Estelle waxed poetry on the newlyweds, Miguel pulled out a pen from out of nowhere and attempted to design a dress on a napkin. His art level was just a notch above stick figures and I took pity on him and took over the design reigns. I realized a minute later that he'd tricked me.

With narrowed eyes I said, "Hey, my labor is not for free, you know."

He shrugged, all cute and innocent, but it made my nerves flare up.

"I can pay you with a dance. Or two."

My addled brain took a while to catch on to that, when it did it was time for his speech. I hadn't been counting on the fact that Estelle would just pass on the microphone to him, and he'd be standing next to me the entire time. It meant all eyes were directed toward my general area, which made it impossible to hide the fact that my blush was out of control. There was roaring in my ears that didn't let me understand a single word he said and when the food finally came out I dug into it with gusto. Anything to keep me busy. Otherwise I would start staring. Or saying embarrassing things.

At some point during the main course, Charlie stepped into the ladies' room and left me defenseless against her brother and boyfriend, who turned out to be this huge hockey star. Between him and Miguel, half of the women in the wedding hall kept finding excuses to come and hang out around our table.

"So, Addy, right?" the hockey star asked. I gave him a nod as I reached out for my champagne. "I'd like to hire you to design a dress for me."

I almost spat out my drink. Miguel started laughing.

Dean didn't look one bit embarrassed at the way his words could be interpreted.

He leaned forward, checking his six before saying, "See, I'm planning to propose to Charlie soon. And I think you'd be the best person to capture her spirit into wearable form."

I did a double take. Charlie's brother confirmed with a nod.

"He has this whole plan," Miguel said, giving me the short of it.

"Oh wow, that sounds incredible," I said. Then, giving Dean a smile, I finished with, "Absolutely. You can count on me."

We raised our glasses into a toast, which was when Charlie joined us again. She lifted her own flute. "What are we toasting to?"

"Why, the happy couple, of course." The two boys grinned at my smooth lie.

I had to get the hell away from them. Everybody was infected by the bug of love in this damn reception hall, sure that this moment of happiness was going to last forever. In contrast, it made me feel like a beggar looking into the window of a big, fancy bakery. It looked amazing but it probably wasn't worth the price for a small morsel like this. Couple life wasn't easy. More often than not, tempers rammed horns, petty fights started over who did what chore or not and the spark disappeared. And keeping it alive wasn't as easy as passing on the flame from one wick to another. The wedding party would end, and in the morning people would wake up to the reality that tonight was only a mirage and that the real miracle had been to get here at all.

I wished the best to Page and Jace, to Charlie and Dean, to Vera and Ashton, to Ayrton and his new beau in California and to my roommate and her boyfriend. They all probably knew the ingredient that eluded me, that thing which helped relationships endure. That thing I was scared I could never find.

Page and Jace shared their first dance to the tune of Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love You, played by a live band. The anxiety coursing through my body didn't let me appreciate it as I should've. I found a waiter and tackled him with far more intensity than necessary to get the last champagne flute.

The song changed to some of the most popular tunes playing on the radio and I figured that the best way to turn my mind off was to dance. It was probably a healthier alternative to alcohol poisoning. A few of the women from the bridal party were dancing together and I joined them. We shook what our mamas gave us, which in my case was a hell of a lot more than what she, herself, had. Some salsa song that I vaguely recognized started playing, and this super short guy took me out to dance. We both knew we made quite a picture, with the good foot of advantage I had on him. I was aware this left my boobs in his line of sight, but it was still funny so I didn't care. He twirled me around and with the motion I let go of his hand by accident and-

Slammed right into a solid chest.

This time I had only look down by a couple of inches to meet the gaze I'd been trying to avoid all night long.

Miguel's hands came around my waist and the song changed. My temperature rose in the seconds it took me to recognize what was playing. It was a reggaeton I heard a lot in the Miami night club scenes. One of those that started deceptively slow and morphed into a heavy beat. It made people's bodies follow it with the same movements that made for a very engaging night between the bed sheets.

"I, uh," I said. "My partner-"

"Is me now," the deep bass of his voice said.

I circled my arms around his neck only because those three words had almost sent me into a swoon.

He made a warm cage around me. His body hard and flush against mine swayed to the music as if the melody flowed through his veins. Mine reacted in kind, picking up intensity as the tempo elevated. I was a little self conscious about my white girl dancing, but he didn't seem to mind. I was a lot self conscious about the fact that I was more turned on than a furnace, but I didn't think it was just the alcohol in my system what told me that maybe he was, too. My dress was tight, and I could feel every part of his body that was pressed up against mine.

Every. Part.

"Miguel," I said, my chest trembling with how difficult it was for me to take a breath right then. "What are we doing?"

His hand made a slow trek down my spine to the small of my waist. He pulled me even tighter against him.

Yep. I definitely wasn't imagining his interest. That little smile of his confirmed it as much.

"We're doing exactly what we should've done seven years ago," he said into my ear. The rasp in his voice raised goose bumps all across my skin. His lips pressed a soft kiss at the base of my neck and I stood upright only because of his grip.

I wasn't sure how it happened. Magic. Temporary absence of the mind. But the next thing I knew, his lips were on mine and I didn't know who clutched harder at the other. I linked my fingers through his hair, pulling his head closer. Which he didn't seem to mind because he used the same motion to coax my lips open. A moan rumbled in my throat as his tongue caressed mine. With no hurry, so sensually, that the effects traveled low in my belly.

It didn't matter that we were in the middle of the dance floor. That the lights weren't totally dim. That we were probably being watched. All that mattered was that what I'd dreamed about, and never thought possible, was happening. Miguel's hands roamed over my body, trying to reduce the distance to zero. I knew of one way we could do that. One way where I could also let my hands and my mouth free all over his incredible body. A way which, for some reason, I thought to prepare for by sneaking a couple of condoms into my clutch purse.

Of course, as long as this wasn't some sort of fluke and Miguel hadn't confused me by some other hot guest.

I pulled away with a gasp. His lids at half mast and the way he licked his lips almost did me in.

But I still had the nerve to ask, "Whoa, this is—um. Where are we going with this?"

It took a few seconds for Miguel's eyes to clear. I feared he was going to apologize and jump away.

Instead what he did was very discretely drop his hands to my butt. And squeeze. As I gasped he asked, "My room?"

As if on cue, a waitress walked by us with more champagne. I relieved her of the bottle and two flutes and faced Miguel before I had the chance to run away.

"Well, lead the way."

And so I ditched my best friend's wedding early and the rest of that night was history. Very long, hot and bone-deep sating history.

but also a note to those of you who skipped the A/Ns in the intro chapters: there won't be smut in this book and you agreed to those terms when you clicked to the next chapter. all complaints about where the smut at will be ignored.

thank you,
the management.