Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 40074 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 200(@200wpm)___ 160(@250wpm)___ 134(@300wpm)
It's not like that now. Hattie is out of her reach, and she isn't getting a fucking dime from me ever again. I'm done being her piggy bank, so fucking done.
"Come on," Harlan murmurs, leading me into the sanctuary, which is all decked out for the wedding in dusty blue and ivory. The scent of hundreds of flowers fills the space, but it isn't overwhelming, just…pleasant. Photos of him and Sophie line the front of the sanctuary, set on stands beside a flower-covered arch on the stage. It's elegant, beautiful.
We pass through, then duck through a side door, exiting into a hallway. The low hum of voices reaches us as Harlan stops in front of another door.
"We're having dinner in here," he mutters, "and then we'll run through the ceremony."
"Still can't believe you're getting married in a church." Harlan hasn't been inside a church since we were kids, but there isn't much he wouldn't do for his ballerina.
"It's what she wanted," he says, his voice soft as his gaze drifts toward Sophie. She looks stunning in a white mini dress with a large bow at the back resembling a train. Even from across the room, she glows. "Her parents got married in this church before they tore the old building down to make room for the new one."
I just grin at him, proud. "Dad would have loved her, you know."
"Jesus," he rasps, startling slightly. The swell of emotion in his gaze chokes me up. I hate that our father will never get to meet the women my brothers chose, or the man who brought Hattie back to life.
"It's true." I clasp Harlan on the shoulder. "She's perfect for you."
Harlan has always been a little too serious and a bit of an obsessive pain in the ass at times. Sophie is as dedicated and driven as he is, but she's also full of life. She keeps him on his toes and doesn't just bow to him. He needs someone like her, someone fierce enough to call him out when he deserves it and soft enough to let him lead when he's earned it. Sophie is good at both.
"Yeah, she is." He smiles that same fucking smile he always wears when he talks about Sophie, like he can't believe she chose him. And for a split second, I'm envious as hell, not because his ballerina chose him; God, no. I've never been interested in Sophie like that. But I'm jealous as hell that he found his person.
Part of me always thought I'd be the one to get married and start a family first. It's what I've always wanted. Unfortunately, it just hasn't been in the cards for me.
Anytime I tried to date, I spent the whole fucking night just waiting for it to end. No one ever made it past the first date. No one ever made it to my bed, either. The whole world would probably lose it if they knew that I'm a twenty-seven-year-old virgin, so I don't publicize it, but it's not something I'm ashamed of, either.
I've seen plenty of teammates fall into bed with anyone willing. That never interested me. I've always wanted what I thought my parents had when we were kids, back before I realized my mother was a lying, hateful bitch. My dad doted on her, worshipped the ground she walked on. That only changed when she decided our baby sister was her competition instead of her child. Until then, Dad would have done anything for her.
And I've always wanted to be a man he would have been proud to call his son. His fairytale didn't work out. Maybe it's stupid to think it can be different for the rest of us, but that's what I've always wanted.
If happily-ever-after isn't meant for me, though, at least my siblings will know what it's like to love like our dad did. I can live with that.
Harlan pushes open the door, and we step into a massive fellowship hall, decorated in the same dusty blue and ivory color scheme. Thousands of fairy lights twinkle overhead, with more photos of Harlan and Sophie hanging from gossamer strands along the back wall. A massive dining table dominates the center of the room, with floating candles and floral arrangements stretching down the center.
Their closest friends and family are clustered in groups, scattered around the room, chatting and laughing. Most are holding wine goblets or beer bottles.
I shoot Harlan a questioning look. "Since when could you drink at church?"
"Since we signed a contract, took out insurance, and jumped through nine hundred hoops to ensure we were abiding by their rules," he mutters. "Only beer and wine, and only for tonight. It's why we opted to have the reception at a different location."
"Ah," I say, shaking my head. And then I catch sight of the woman standing beside Sophie, her head thrown back, her blue eyes shining as laughter spills from her lips.