ALL MY HEART WANTS IS YOU

CHAPTER 1 - A NEW BEGINNING

SARAH

I stared at the grand oak doors of St. Francis Catholic Church, the faint smell of lilies and incense curling around me. My hands rested on the soft fabric of my wedding dress, something I had dreamed about since I was a little girl. My heart thudded steadily against my ribs. I was both nervous and excited at the thought of finally getting married to Kyle Harrington, my high school sweetheart and the man I had loved for as long as I could remember.

The sun was beginning to set, the golden rays streaming through the church’s stained-glass windows. The colors danced across the pews, painting the room in hues of crimson, and emerald. Guests whispered to one another, and shifted in their seats uncomfortably as soft organ music played in the background. My bouquet of white roses felt heavy in my trembling hands. It had been six hours now and Kyle was still not here.

“Five minutes, Sarah,” my mother said, her voice warm but slightly strained. She placed a hand on my shoulder, her smile bright, though I could see that she was beginning to doubt it too.

I nodded and adjusted the veil that framed my face. Five minutes. That’s all that stood between me and forever with Kyle. But those five minutes stretched into ten, then twenty, then thirty. Each passing second tightened the knot in my stomach.

Whispers turned into murmurs, and soon I could hear the shifting unease ripple through the congregation. My mother excused herself to find Kyle, leaving me standing alone at the edge of the aisle. My father looked over at me from where he was seated, his expression a mix of confusion and growing concern.

I took a shaky breath, smoothing my dress as I fought to ignore the building sense of dread. He’s late, that’s all. He’ll be here.

But as another hour passed, my certainty began to c***k. My mother returned, her face pale, her lips pressed into a thin line.

“Kyle isn’t answering his phone,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Panic clawed at my throat. I pulled out my phone, frantically dialing his number. No answer. I called again. Still nothing.

“He’s just—he’s probably stuck in traffic,” I said, though my voice wavered. My mother didn’t reply.

The guests were now openly murmuring, some exchanging glances, others staring at me with pity etched on their faces. I clenched my jaw, willing myself not to cry. Kyle wouldn’t leave me here like this. He wouldn’t.

But the hours continued to crawl by, and the truth became undeniable. Kyle wasn’t coming.

It was my younger sister, Emily, who shattered any lingering hope I might have had. My phone buzzed in my hand, and I glanced at the screen to see her name flash across it. I hadn’t spoken to her in over a year—not since the fallout that left our relationship in ruins. My thumb hovered over the answer button before I finally picked up.

“Emily?” I asked, my voice tight.

“Sarah, I thought you should know,” she began, her tone cool, almost indifferent. “Kyle isn’t coming.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. My knees buckled, and I grabbed onto the edge of a nearby pew to steady myself.

“What are you talking about?” I whispered, though deep down, I already knew.

“I think this will explain everything,” Emily said. A moment later, my phone chimed with an incoming message. With shaking hands, I opened it.

There, on the screen, was the image that would forever be seared into my memory: Kyle, naked and tangled in bed with Emily, his arm draped possessively over her.

My breath caught in my throat as a sharp pain stabbed through my chest. The room around me seemed to tilt, the vibrant colors of the stained-glass windows blurring all at once.

“Emily, what the hell is this?” I demanded, though my voice cracked under the weight of my anguish.

“It’s the truth,” she said simply, her voice devoid of remorse. “Kyle chose me, Sarah. You were just too blind to see it.”

The call ended, leaving me standing there, frozen, as my entire world crumbled around me.

I don’t remember how I got out of the church. The next thing I knew, I was sitting in the backseat of a cab, still in my wedding dress, mascara streaking down my cheeks. My phone buzzed relentlessly with calls and messages—my parents, my friends, all of them desperate to know what had happened. I ignored them all.

The cab dropped me off at a nightclub downtown. The pulsating beat of the music was deafening, the flashing lights disorienting. I stumbled to the bar, slumping onto a stool as I waved the bartender over.

“Tequila,” I muttered, my voice hoarse.

He gave me a skeptical look but poured the drink anyway. I knocked it back in one gulp, the burn searing my throat.

“Another,” I said, slamming the glass onto the counter.

Drink after drink blurred the edges of my pain until it was nothing more than a dull ache.

“Rough night?” a deep voice asked, pulling me out of my haze.

I turned to see a man standing beside me, his chiseled features illuminated by the dim neon lights. He had dark hair, piercing blue eyes, and an easy, lopsided grin that seemed out of place in the chaos of the club.

“You could say that,” I slurred, my words thick with alcohol.

“Let me guess—guy trouble?” he asked, sliding onto the stool next to mine.

I let out a bitter laugh. “That’s one way to put it.”

We talked—or rather, I talked, spilling my heart out to this stranger who listened without judgment. Somewhere along the way, the pain and anger bubbled over into something else entirely. Desire.

I don’t remember how we ended up at his place. I barely remember the heat of his kisses, the feel of his hands on my skin. It was reckless and impulsive, but in that moment, I didn’t care.

When I woke up the next morning, sunlight streaming through the curtains, the weight of what I had done settled on me. I sat up, clutching the sheet to my chest as I looked around the unfamiliar room. My gaze landed on the man sleeping beside me, his face partially obscured by the pillow.

And that’s when I saw him clearly for the first time.

Bryan Jones. Kyle’s best friend.

Panic surged through me as I scrambled out of bed, gathering my scattered clothes and slipping into them as quickly as I could. Bryan stirred, his eyes fluttering open as he propped himself up on one elbow.

“Sarah?” he asked, his voice groggy.

“I—I have to go,” I stammered, avoiding his gaze as I bolted for the door.

“Wait!” he called after me, but I didn’t stop.

I ran out into the street, the cool morning air biting at my skin. My head throbbed, my heart ached, and all I could think about was getting as far away from Los Angeles as possible.

Kyle had betrayed me. Emily had betrayed me. And now I had betrayed myself.

It was time to start afresh.