If I thought the rehearsal dinner would go by smoothly, I was sorely mistaken.
Between Lucas's insufferable smirks and Isabelle's thinly veiled jabs, my patience was hanging by a thread.
I focused on my plate, stabbing at a piece of roasted chicken with more force than necessary.
Lucas, of course, noticed. "You're going to murder that chicken before you eat it."
I shot him a glare. "Maybe I'm imagining it's someone else."
His lips twitched. "Should I be concerned?"
"Yes."
His deep chuckle sent an unwelcome shiver down my spine. "You were always cute when you were mad."
I stiffened, grip tightening on my fork. "You have a real talent for making me mad, Lucas."
"Still my specialty."
I exhaled sharply, willing myself to stay calm. The last thing I needed was to cause a scene.
Unfortunately, Isabelle seemed determined to stir the pot.
She leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. "So, Claire, I have to ask—does being back here bring up… old memories?"
My stomach twisted, but I forced a polite smile. "Not particularly."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement. "Really? Because I'd imagine seeing Lucas again must be quite the experience."
I set my wine glass down a little too hard. "I'm managing just fine."
Lucas, to my surprise, didn't say anything. He just watched me, his expression unreadable.
Isabelle smirked. "You always were good at keeping your emotions in check."
I clenched my jaw, refusing to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.
Emma must have sensed the tension because she suddenly clinked her glass, drawing everyone's attention. "Okay, everyone! Time for speeches."
I silently thanked her for the save.
Andrew, the groom, stood first, giving a heartfelt speech about how lucky he was to have found Emma.
It was sweet. Romantic. Everything love was supposed to be.
I risked a glance at Lucas.
His gaze was on me, not the speech.
My breath caught, but I quickly looked away.
I couldn't do this.
Not now. Not ever.
When the speeches wrapped up, people started mingling again, and I saw my chance to escape.
I stood abruptly. "I need some air."
Lucas frowned. "Claire—"
"I'll be fine," I cut him off before walking away.
I stepped out onto the terrace, inhaling the cool night air.
For the first time all evening, I felt like I could breathe.
But, of course, my peace didn't last long.
The door creaked open behind me, and I knew—without even turning around—who it was.
Lucas.
I sighed. "Can't you take a hint?"
"Nope."
I heard him step closer, but I kept my eyes on the distant city lights.
He was quiet for a moment before speaking. "You never used to run from me."
I closed my eyes. "People change."
"Do they?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Because you still look at me the same way."
I turned then, finally facing him. "And how is that?"
Lucas studied me, his hazel eyes searching mine. "Like I still matter to you."
My heart clenched.
I wanted to deny it.
I wanted to tell him he was wrong.
But I couldn't.
Because deep down, we both knew the truth.
And that terrified me more than anything else.
The air between us was suffocating.
Lucas stood too close, his hazel eyes locked onto mine, waiting. Daring me to say something, to deny what we both knew.
I forced a laugh, but it sounded hollow even to my own ears. "You're delusional, Lucas."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me. "Am I?"
"Yes," I snapped, turning away. "This is just your ego talking. You think because we're stuck at the same wedding, you can—"
"What?" he cut in, stepping closer. "Make you admit that you still feel something?"
I swallowed hard. "I don't."
His lips quirked, but there was no amusement in his expression. "Liar."
I spun around, heart pounding. "You don't get to do this," I hissed. "Not after everything."
Lucas's jaw tightened. "And what exactly did I do, Claire?"
I scoffed. "You really don't know?"
"Why don't you enlighten me?" His voice was sharp now, his patience wearing thin.
Anger flared in my chest, fueled by years of unresolved hurt. "You left, Lucas. You made promises, and then you walked away like none of it ever mattered."
His eyes darkened. "That's not fair."
"No?" I let out a bitter laugh. "You vanished. No explanation. No goodbye. You think I don't have the right to be angry?"
He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. "You don't know the full story."
I crossed my arms. "Then tell me."
Silence.
His throat bobbed, his fingers flexing like he was debating something. But instead of answering, he turned away, staring out into the night.
Typical.
I shook my head. "That's what I thought."
I took a step back, ready to leave. To end this conversation before it broke me completely.
But then Lucas spoke.
"I wanted to stay." His voice was quiet, raw. "I tried to stay, Claire."
I froze.
He turned back to me, and for the first time that night, I saw something real in his expression. Not arrogance. Not amusement. Just pain.
"I didn't leave because I wanted to," he continued. "I left because I had no choice."
A sharp gust of wind swept between us, but I barely felt it.
I opened my mouth, then closed it. My hands clenched at my sides. "What does that even mean?"
Lucas hesitated.
Then, before he could answer, the terrace door swung open.
"There you are!" Emma's voice cut through the tension. "I've been looking everywhere for you two!"
I flinched, the moment shattering.
Lucas's jaw tightened, but he stepped back.
I forced a smile, turning to Emma. "Sorry, just needed some air."
She beamed. "Well, come back inside! Andrew's uncle just brought out this insane bottle of whiskey, and everyone's taking bets on who can handle the strongest shot."
I laughed, but it felt forced. "Sounds… fun."
Emma linked her arm through mine, oblivious to the storm raging inside me. "Come on!"
I let her pull me toward the door. But as I stepped inside, I glanced back.
Lucas was still standing there, hands shoved in his pockets, watching me with an expression I couldn't quite decipher.
And just like that, I knew this wasn't over.
Not even close.