Page 52 of Broken Desires
Instantly, a pillow flies toward me, which I dodge, laughing. “Zilla? Really, Nessa? I was aiming for Bridechilla,” Eva retorts with mock indignation.
I chuckle, striding in to throw open her curtains, welcoming the flood of morning light before perching myself at the bed’s foot. “Honestly, next to The Hip Sorcerer, you’re downright zen.” It’s our little inside joke that Cole’s real magic lies not just in his soccer moves but in how those hips translate to other… areas of expertise.
Eva sighs dreamily, clutching her pillow tighter. “He might be going all out, but it’s because he wants everything to be perfect today—for both of us.” She glances at me, a hint of worry in her eyes. I hate that she feels she needs to tread lightly around me, today of all days.
“He better! Marrying him was your crazy decision; he owes you big time for that,” I quip, lightening the tone.
She leans back, her gaze thoughtful. “Do you think it’s silly? Doing all this when technically—” She trails off, but I understand. They’ve been married in secret for months after eloping to Vegas.
“Not at all. It’s romantic and special. Plus, I’m glad to be part of this one since I missed the Vegas adventure,” I assure her, my voice sincere despite the situation stirring a mix of emotions inside me because the trip to Vegas had been a turning point for me too. It’s when I figured that Liam was not just a friend or just a sex buddy.
Eva’s look is full of feelings, stirring a familiar ache. To avoid dwelling on my own sorrows, I quickly steer the conversation back to humor. “What was truly pathetic was your man trying to scale the window last night, moaning about missing his cuddle buddy.”
Her face blooms with a blush, and she draws the pillow in tighter. “Sleeping apart isn’t easy,” she confesses softly.
I know the feeling all too well but push aside my melancholy, opting instead for fun. “Should’ve called me; I’m an excellent stand-in cuddler,” I offer with a wink, giving her leg a reassuring pat as I stand.
Eva can’t help but snort at that. “Alright, let’s get moving. Poppy expects us at the house by eleven, and I’m on a mission to deliver.”
The moment Eva rises, the day kicks into high gear, pushing any remaining sadness I feel to the outskirts of my mind. Breakfast is a blur of laughter and plans, followed by a quick shower before we get into the Cherry Bomb, heading toward Cole’s parents’ sprawling estate. The sight that greets us—staff bustling, vans unloading, and the arrival of a six-tier wedding cake—makes me raise an eyebrow.
“I thought we were aiming for low-keyish?” I quip, eyes wide at the cake’s grandeur.
Eva catches my look, her gaze also fixed on the cake. “Well, it’s low-key by Westbrook family standards,” she admits with a grimace.
“Damn,” I mutter, checking my watch. “We better get moving.”
As we approach the door, Poppy greets us, clad in her bridesmaid robe, a picture of readiness. “The makeup artist just got here,” she informs us, ushering us inside.
Ethan appears beside her, placing a gentle kiss on her temple. “Good timing. The bride’s starting to panic.”
Eva’s brow furrows. “I’m not panicking.”
“Not you,” Ethan clarifies with a smirk, “the other bride… Cole.”
I don’t know what Cole says, but they turn toward the corridor, and Eva laughs before shouting, “I love you!”
Cole appears, his hand covering his eyes, dressed in a pair of sweatpants. “I love you, too, Angel. Don’t listen to him—I’m not nervous; I’m excited!” he says quickly before disappearing back down the hall.
Eva laughs again, and seeing her this light, this full of joy, fills me with a profound sense of happiness for her. After everything she and Cole have endured, they’ve emerged stronger together. Watching her now, surrounded by love and laughter, I can’t help but feel a glimmer of hope for myself.
Cole’s mom greets us with the warmth of a long-lost family member. It’s refreshing, her genuine kindness making it clear why Eva feels so at home here. She guides us to what will serve as the bridal suite for the day—a lounge parlor so opulent it outshines any luxury I’ve ever seen.
As we settle in, the pampering begins. We’re dressed in rose-pink bridesmaid dresses that flow elegantly, but all eyes are on Eva. She emerges, a vision in white, her dress hugging her figure in all the right places, promising to steal Cole’s breath away—and likely fill his head with thoughts far from holy.
The thought brings a mischievous smile to my face, imagining Cole’s struggle to keep his composure. Watching his torment from the sidelines might just be the highlight of my day.
I am happy once we’re ready, but I can’t help but feel a little deflated as I stand beside Cole’s cousin instead of Liam.
As we start our walk down the aisle, I can feel a set of eyes on me, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. I try to shake off the feeling, focusing on the path ahead, lined with smiling faces and floral beauty. When I reach the makeshift altar and take my position, I can’t resist scanning the crowd, basking in the warmth of the day, waiting for Eva to make her grand entrance with her father.
But then my gaze stumbles and my breath catches. There, nestled in the shadowy embrace of an oversized floral arrangement at the back, is a figure that makes my heart skip. Even with a hat pulled low and sunglasses masking his eyes, Liam is unmistakable. The sight of him, here of all places, reignites a familiar pull, a connection I thought I’d managed to dim.
For a moment, everything else fades— the guests, the decor—leaving only the shock wave of his presence. The realization that he’s actually here, despite everything, sends a flood of emotions crashing through me.
As the pianist takes his seat, I tear my gaze away from Liam, refocusing on Eva as she glides down the aisle. My attention then shifts to Cole. The expression on his face upon seeing Eva is almost pained, as if the sheer volume of love and admiration he holds for her is too overwhelming to contain. Watching them, I’m convinced they’re meant to last.
Yet, throughout the ceremony, I find myself stealing glances in Liam’s direction, half expecting him to vanish like an illusion. But each time our eyes meet confirms he’s not just a figment of my imagination. He’s really here, and his attention seems fixed on me, not the ceremony.