Gloria couldn’t speak around the lump forming in her throat. So she just nodded.
“There’s a quirky tradition in my family where lighting the candles represents a fresh start.” Sofie pulled open a drawer. “It’s a symbol of illuminating the future while burning the past.”
“Deep,” Gloria said, more nervous than before.
“Yeah, well. My family has a flair for the dramatic.” She pulled a stick lighter from the desk drawer. A white one, the handle decorated with roses and ribbon.
Gloria’s face fell.
Oh no.
“Sofie…” She took a step back.
“Hear me out.” Sofie came out from behind the desk, lighter in hand. “I feel like your fresh start is happening while we all watch. Who would have thought you and Asher after all these years…”
Gloria felt her shoulders tighten. This tradition bespoke of a lot of future and permanence.
“It’s meant to be.” Sofie grinned and held out the lighter. “Would you do Donovan and me the honor of lighting our wedding candles?”
Gloria’s heart cracked. No way could she tell her friend no.
“Of course,” she said, then caught Sofie in her arms. She hugged her carefully so as not to crumple her wedding dress.
“Thank you.” Sofie’s smile was positively radiant as she explained to Gloria that she would walk down the aisle ahead of the bridal party to do the honors.
Gloria nodded, her fingers tight around the lighter, and made it her job to calm down and keep her focus on her friends.
*
Gloria had no problem with crowds, or being watched. Walking up the aisle while music played softly in the background was no big thang. She pulled her shoulders back, put one foot in front of the other, and walked to the candles at one side of the arch.
You’ve got this.
The metal stand was painted gold and shaped like a tree, its branches surrounding several taper candles. The three top ones were out of Gloria’s reach, but the stick lighter would make up for the lost inches.
The bottom tapers lit, she moved to the center, aware of her posture and the expression on her face since the photographer was snapping away at a distance. She reached the candles on the top row and fired the lighter. The spark flicked, but no flame came out.
Glo, unruffled, inspected the lighter, adjusted the little wheel setting for how high the flame should be, and tried again.
Spark, fizzle.
Hmm.
When she lowered the lighter this time, it was taken out of her hands and replaced with a silver Zippo. She locked eyes with Asher.
“Always be prepared, Sarge.”
“Thanks.”
But he didn’t leave her side. He reached over her head and pulled one of the top tapers down. She opened the lid to the lighter, flicked the wheel, and watched Ash through the flame for a split second. The very man who had set her on fire on more than one occasion—both good and bad—looked back at her.
She’d been determined not to let the symbolism of this moment seep beneath her skin, but with him there, it was impossible. They’d been through too much together.
“Lotta ribbon around here,” Ash commented as she lit the taper. He lifted it and carefully wedged the lit candle into the stand. “You want to be tied up with it, we could sneak out of the reception.”
“Shh,” she said, aware of keeping a smile on her face so the photographer didn’t catch her frowning.
“Music’s loud. Guys are lined up on the other side of you. Nobody can hear us, Sarge.” Except for her, and his naughty suggestion was making her warm. He pulled down taper number two. “We could go back to our room in the mansion. The one from last year.”
He offered the taper and she flicked the lighter, losing her grip on the wheel when he said, “Like to slip you out of those panties. Thong? Lace. Tell me.”
“Asher.” The photographer moved in her peripheral, clicking the shutter. She flicked the lighter smoothly this time. A feat considering how distracted she was.
“Don’t tell me you’re not wearing any or I’m going to throw you over my shoulder and take you upstairs right now,” Asher murmured, unfazed that they were in the middle of a ceremony. “Wedding be damned.”
“You can’t—” She cleared her very dry throat and kept her voice low. “You can’t damn this wedding while we’re lighting the fresh-start candles.”
His brows pinched. “The what?”
“Tell you later.”
He traded out the lit taper for a fresh one—the last one, thank goodness. “You’re gonna do a lot of things later, gorgeous.”
This time, the lighter’s flame bounced off his whiskey-colored eyes. One of which he winked, and Gloria felt her smile go from posed to genuine. God. She loved him.
Loved him in a way she’d never loved anyone in her life. Loved him deep in her soul, in a way that scarred, leaving marks that would never fully disappear.