The best man

Chapter 14

I take a deep, shaky breath, feeling the weight of every unsaid word lodged in my throat. My chest tightens as I meet Ethan's eyes, and the air between us feels heavy with everything we've left unspoken for too long.

"I'm sorry, Ethan," I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper, trembling with guilt. "I'm so sorry I didn't trust you. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you before overreacting."

My hands fidget with the edge of my scarf, desperately seeking something to anchor me. I force myself to meet his gaze again, and his expression softens, but the hurt lingers between us, like a wound we've both been too afraid to address.

He steps closer, his eyes clouded with the same regret that's gnawing at me. "I'm sorry too," he says, his voice quiet yet sincere. "I should've communicated better. I should've told you I was planning a surprise, that Charlotte was just helping me. I didn't think it would spiral into... this."

Tears blur my vision, and I can't help but feel a sharp pang of embarrassment—**embarrassed for letting my fear and insecurities dictate my actions, for pushing him away when I should've trusted him.** I swipe quickly at the tears, though they keep falling, stubborn and relentless.

"I just don't want to make the same mistake again," I whisper, my voice cracking under the weight of everything I've been holding in. "I want to communicate, Ethan. Even when it's hard, even when it hurts. I don't want to assume the worst anymore."

His hands come to rest on my shoulders, his thumbs brushing gently in a calming rhythm, trying to offer reassurance. "I'll work on that too," he promises, his voice steady and warm. "We've both messed up, but that doesn't mean we can't fix it."

His words spark a flicker of hope inside me, but there's still one question I can't push aside, no matter how much I wish I could. It's been gnawing at me, the one thing I need to know before I can move forward. My voice shakes as I ask, "And about that girl I saw you with in London... Is she your girlfriend?"

The words feel like stones tumbling from my lips. I swallow hard, willing myself to be okay with the answer, even though I know it'll break me if it's what I fear.

Ethan's eyes widen, his face stricken with emotion. He inhales sharply, as if gathering the strength to explain. "Lily..." His voice wavers, full of raw vulnerability. "The girl you saw with me... she's my sister, Agatha. I was so overwhelmed when we saw each other that I couldn't get the words out. You were talking so fast, and when you started pleading, I was trying to listen to what you were saying and process everything."

He steps closer, as though trying to close the emotional gap between us. His eyes search mine, desperate to make things right. "I was hurt when I saw you with Conor that day," he continues, his voice softer now. "You said you saw me with Charlotte, but I wanted to tell you it was all a misunderstanding. I wanted to explain everything, but Conor wouldn't let me. I was already so furious, and I thought... I thought you didn't want me anymore. I thought you had moved on. And I didn't know what else to do."

Tears fill his eyes now, matching my own. I can see how much this has weighed on him too. how much pain we've both been carrying alone. "I haven't moved on from you, Lily," he says, his voice breaking. "Not even close. I was hurt, but I needed time to process everything, to try to understand where we went wrong."

My tears flow faster, and I shake my head, my heart aching with the weight of it all. "I didn't cheat, Ethan. That day with Conor... yes, there was a kiss, but nothing else happened. I was so upset after seeing you with Charlotte—or, well, Agatha—thinking you'd already moved on. I thought you were the one cheating."

The realization of how deeply we've misunderstood each other is like a punch to the gut. We stand there, both of us unraveling, both of us facing the mess we've made. Ethan steps closer, resting his forehead against mine, his touch grounding me, pulling me back from the edge.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding," he says, his voice thick with emotion. "I didn't want to lose you, not like this. Not over something we could've fixed."

"I'm sorry too," I whisper, my voice barely audible as the tears keep falling. "I love you, Ethan. I don't want to lose you anymore. I can't."

He pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly, and I let myself melt into his embrace, sobbing against his chest. We stand there, both of us broken, both of us trying to find a way to piece ourselves back together. **And for the first time in what feels like forever, I believe we can.**

"I love you too, Lily," he whispers into my hair, his voice steady despite everything. "I'm not going anywhere."

Through my tears, I manage a small, shaky laugh.

As the night wears on, the tension between Ethan and me begins to dissolve. We stand in silence for a moment, the world feeling smaller as we hold each other in a long embrace. Neither of us says a word, but the hug says everything we've been too afraid to speak aloud. His warmth anchors me, and for the first time in what feels like forever, I don't feel lost.

Eventually, we pull apart, both of us looking a little disheveled from the tears. Ethan lets out a small chuckle, gesturing to our faces. "We're a mess," he says with a crooked smile.

I laugh softly, nodding. "Yeah, we should probably fix that before someone sees."

We head to the bathroom together, trying to repair the damage. Our eyes are red and puffy from all the crying, and as we splash cold water onto our faces, we catch each other's reflection in the mirror. There's a lightness now—a mutual understanding. We both laugh at how ridiculous we look, the tension from earlier lifting as if a heavy weight has been thrown off our shoulders.

"Better?" I ask, dabbing my face with a towel.

"Much better," Ethan replies, his eyes soft but no longer carrying the pain they had before. "I'm glad we talked. Really."

"Me too," I say, meaning every word.

We head back to the party, and as soon as we step into the room, the noise and warmth of the gathering wash over us. The clatter of silverware, the clinking of glasses, and the soft hum of conversation fill the air. It's comforting. I find myself smiling, genuinely smiling, as we join everyone at the dinner table.

Ethan and I sit side by side, our knees brushing underneath the table. The small, unspoken connection is reassuring, grounding me in the moment. As dinner is served, we continue talking, the conversation flowing easily between us—about everything and nothing all at once. It feels natural, like we've slipped back into a rhythm we both missed.

At one point, I glance at him, catching the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs at something James says from across the table. His laugh is contagious, and before I know it, I'm laughing too. It feels good, so good to be here, to have this moment.

Between bites of food, we steal glances at each other, sharing small smiles that feel like promises of better days ahead. The conversation between us becomes more lighthearted, weaving between the serious and the playful. We talk about the future—what we want, where we see ourselves—and as we do, I realize how much I missed this, missed him. It's refreshing, a reminder of why we mattered to each other in the first place.

The night passes in a blur of laughter, good food, and quiet moments of reconnection. By the time dessert rolls around, I feel lighter than I have in weeks. We dine side by side, surrounded by friends, but in our own little world. The weight of misunderstandings, past mistakes, and misplaced hurt slowly falls away, replaced by something tender and hopeful.

As the evening winds down, I lean over and whisper, "I'm glad you're here."

Ethan turns to me, his eyes meeting mine with a quiet intensity. "Me too, Lily," he says softly. "Me too."