A Toast to Wasted Chances

WESLEY

I stood at the edge of the rehearsal dinner like a ghost at my own funeral. Everyone was laughing, drinking, celebrating the upcoming union of Leo and Olivia. And there I was, nursing a whiskey that had long since lost its bite, watching the woman I loved shine for another man.

Vanessa looked radiant tonight. Her auburn hair fell in loose waves around her shoulders, and her gray-blue eyes sparkled as she talked animatedly with her brother. She wore a simple blue dress that hugged her curves in all the right places. The kind of dress I used to help her zip up.

I knocked back the rest of my drink.

Roman Vance hadn't left her side all evening. His hand kept finding the small of her back, his fingers brushing against hers when he passed her a glass of champagne. Little touches that spoke volumes. Touches that should have been mine.

"Refill, sir?" A server appeared at my elbow with a tray of drinks.

I grabbed another whiskey. "Thanks."