Daniel Garrett: They Took Her From Me

Chapter 6: Kat

"Come on, Kat," Christian groaned, stepping even closer. That confident smirk of his had returned, as if he hadn't learned by now that I could wipe it clean off his face with just a look. "We all know the bridesmaid isn't going home alone, and the best man is more than busy," he added, nodding towards Benjamin and Violet.

They were seated at our table, completely lost in their own little world. Benjamin had pulled her so close that she was practically perched on his lap, his arm draped around her shoulders as she whispered something in his ear. Whatever she said must have been funny because his lips curved into a smile, his expression soft, full of warmth. They looked disgustingly happy, like one of those couples in a romance movie—the ones you never actually believe exist in real life.

I got it. I understood why he was crazy about her, why he couldn't take his hands off her. And I even understood why she was crazy about him. He was steady, reliable, the kind of man who would lay his entire world at her feet without a second thought. But how could they look at each other like that? Like nothing else in the room mattered? Like there wasn’t an entire party going on around them?

"So, I propose," Christian continued, leaning down, his breath brushing against my ear, "that you and I have some shots and then take it back to my place."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "You're getting sloppy, Howard," I muttered, unimpressed by his weak attempt. "That wasn’t even slightly funny."

"Funny obviously doesn’t work on you, Kat," he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. "I’m just trying out different approaches."

We were standing by the bar, waiting for the food to be served, watching as people swayed on the dance floor, tipsy and carefree. Music pulsed through the air, blending with the hum of conversation and laughter. Despite my best efforts to keep my gaze fixed on the dance floor, I couldn’t help but look at him.

He was right there.

He looked incredible in that suit. The fabric stretched across his broad shoulders, hugging every inch of his frame in a way that was almost sinful. The sharp cut of the jacket accentuated his powerful arms—arms that had no problem moving me around on his lap, gripping my waist, keeping me in place. His legs, thick with muscle, filled out the slacks in a way that made my mind wander to places it shouldn’t. They were strong, sturdy, but somehow, they had never been uncomfortable to sit on.

"You wanna dance?" Christian asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

Christian was handsome. There was no denying that. The kind of guy women tripped over themselves for. And honestly, if I had met him outside of all this—away from Lydia and Joshua, away from the tangled mess of connections—maybe I would have been interested. But that wasn’t how things worked. If I slept with him, I would still have to be friends with him. And then what? What if he wanted more?

I couldn't do more. I never did more.

That was why I had been so goddamn sad and broken in the first place—because of him. Because I had let myself want more when I shouldn’t have. If I had just let the car guy get my number—he had wanted my number, he had wanted to see me again—maybe I would have been in a completely different place right now. Maybe I wouldn’t be standing here, stuck in this limbo, watching a man who had ruined me for anyone else.

Maybe I would have been having orgasms left and right.

But even as I looked at him—the man who had wrecked my world, the man who had set the bar impossibly high—I couldn't shake the feeling that I had chosen the right path. He knew where I lived. He could have tracked me down if he wanted to. But he hadn't. And that must have meant something.

Maybe that night hadn’t been as special to him. Maybe it had just been another night for him. Maybe he had only asked for my number because that’s what he did.

"Sure," I found myself saying, offering my hand to Christian. "We can dance."

He wasted no time leading me onto the dance floor.

I wasn’t a bad dancer. I loved to dance. But keeping up with Christian Howard was another story entirely. The man had two left feet. It made the whole thing stiff and awkward, his movements too rigid, too forced.

"You know," I said, looking up into his brown eyes, "swaying can be fun too."

He let out a breath of relief. "Thank you," he whispered as we settled into a slow sway instead. "I know a man is supposed to be good on the dance floor, but it was just never my thing."

"A man isn’t supposed to be good on the dance floor, Howard," I corrected him, rolling my eyes at the ridiculous idea. "A man is supposed to be sweet, generous, and amazing in bed. Dancing doesn’t matter to a woman. I mean, look at Lydia."

He followed my gaze to where Lydia was attempting to guide Joshua through a dance. Joshua, who was clearly terrible at it, looked like he was counting his steps in his head, his brows furrowed in concentration.

"I guess you’re right," Christian sighed.

"I’m always right," I teased, flashing him a smug smile.

He studied me for a moment, something shifting in his expression. Then, finally, he asked, "We’re never gonna happen, are we?"

"You don’t need me, Howard," I exhaled, shaking my head slightly.

He sighed, closing his eyes briefly, obviously trying to conseal his hurt. When they opened again it seemed as if he had found his usual goofy side again. "What do I need then?" he pressed, tilting his head.

"You need the settling-down kind of girl," I told him. "Someone who will tame your wild side, who will make you realize that nights in on the couch are better than going out. Someone who will make you laugh, who isn't complicated, who will make you feel content." I let out a small chuckle. "And that’s not me."

"I’m doubting someone like that exists," he muttered, scanning the dance floor as if the perfect woman would magically appear.

"Until you find her," I said, making him look back at me, "you’re more than welcome to get all of your bad pickup lines out of the way on me."

His lips stretched into a grin before he spun me around on the dance floor. Or at least, that had been his intention. In true Christian Howard fashion, he failed spectacularly, sending me straight into his chest with a solid thud.

"Jesus, Howard," I hissed, steadying myself as he laughed, his chest shaking beneath my hands. "How can you be this bad at dancing?"

"I’m not that bad, Kat," he argued, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. I could already tell a pickup line was coming before he even opened his mouth.

Sure enough, he smirked. "I made you fall for me, didn’t I?"

I rolled my eyes so hard I was surprised they didn’t get stuck. "I need another drink if we're gonna continue this," I groaned, already moving toward the bar.

He followed, still laughing, still smirking like he had won something. And as much as I wanted to be annoyed with him, I couldn’t help but smile.

Maybe he wasn’t the worst company after all.

**

I escaped the dance floor as quickly as I could. Between getting smothered by Brian Conner—who, for some inexplicable reason, had decided I was his favorite person tonight—being hunted down by Christian at every turn, and receiving death glares from Benjamin every time I so much as hinted at pulling Violet away for a dance, I gave up.

The moment I saw an opportunity to slip away unnoticed, I took it, nearly sprinting toward the balcony in desperate need of fresh air. My head was buzzing, my skin felt warm from the combination of alcohol and the packed reception hall, and I just needed a second—just one damn second—to breathe.

Lydia had wanted me to be present for every moment of her wedding, and I’d done my best. I didn’t want her to look back on this day and feel like I wasn’t a big enough part of it. She deserved this—deserved a perfect night, surrounded by the people she loved, with no distractions. I could give her that much.

The night air hit me like a freight train, the cool breeze instantly soothing my overheated skin. It was late August, and soon the leaves would begin their slow transformation from green to vibrant shades of orange, red, and gold. Then the chill would settle in, creeping over the town in soft waves, signaling the arrival of fall.

Autumn had always been my favorite season. There was something magical about it—the crisp air, the way the world seemed to slow down just enough for you to breathe it all in. The smell of bonfires and cinnamon, the anticipation of Halloween decorations appearing in store windows, and then, before you knew it, Thanksgiving would roll around, bringing with it the warmth of home-cooked meals and the comfort of being surrounded by the people who mattered.

I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the cool night wrap around me like a blanket.

Then a voice broke through my thoughts.

“Oh, you’re the bridesmaid, right?”

I jumped, startled out of my moment of peace. My eyes flew open, quickly finding the source of the voice—a woman standing a few feet away, her expression apologetic.

“Sorry,” she said with a soft smile. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

I let out a small laugh, shaking off my surprise. “I’m the bridesmaid, yes,” I confirmed, stepping toward her and offering my hand. “Kathleen Denver.”

“Elosie Hayden,” she replied, shaking my hand with a firm but gentle grip. “It’s a beautiful wedding,” she added, her gaze lingering on me as if she were studying me.

She was beautiful.

Fiery red hair framed her delicate features in loose waves—not the strawberry blonde shade Lydia had, but a deep, untamed red that caught the light in a way that made it seem almost alive. Her eyes, a warm hazel mixed with something green, lacked the piercing green of Lydia’s, but there was something softer about them, something almost inviting.

And the freckles—God, the freckles.

They dusted every inch of skin I could see, spreading across her cheeks, her nose, even down her collarbone where the fabric of her dress dipped. It made me irrationally jealous. My own skin was frustratingly even, a little too plain, and I had always admired people who looked like they had been kissed by the sun itself.

“It is,” I agreed, nodding as I glanced back toward the bustling reception hall. “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything by coming out here.”

“You didn’t,” she assured me, shaking her head with an amused smile. “I just needed a few seconds away from the relentless badgering of these people.” She rolled her eyes dramatically, making me chuckle.

“Oh, I get that,” I sighed, shaking my head in sympathy. “I’ve been babysitting Christian Howard all night.”

Her eyes widened slightly as she sucked in a sharp breath. “Oof,” she winced. “Glad that’s not me.”

I laughed. “Well, we all have to play our part, right? Anything for the bride.” I gave her a small, exaggerated curtsy, the kind meant to be sarcastic but still lighthearted.

She laughed—a genuine, melodic sound that made me think of something whimsical, like fairies dancing in a meadow. It was rare to hear a laugh like that, one that felt so real, so unforced.

“You’re a great friend for doing that,” she said, grinning.

Before I could respond, a voice cut through the air, instantly changing the mood.

“There you are!”

I turned my head just in time to see a man approaching, and by the way Eloise tensed beside me, I had a feeling she had been trying to avoid him.

“You left me at the drinks table,” he said, his tone edged with something that sounded vaguely accusatory.

“Sorry,” she replied, her lips curving into a smile that felt much less genuine than the one she had given me earlier. “Landon, have you met Kathleen Denver? She’s the bridesmaid.”

“I have not,” Landon said, his gaze raking over me in a way that instantly set my teeth on edge. He was assessing me, sizing me up like I was some unknown variable in his perfectly curated world.

Then, predictably, came the question.

“Denver. I’m not sure I know that name.”

There it was.

I forced a tight smile, already bracing for whatever condescending remark would come next. “Oh, I’m not part of the snobby upper class,” I said, my voice deliberately light, though my words held an undeniable edge. “I’m what you’d call a worker bee.”

He snorted, rolling his eyes before deciding I wasn’t worth his time. His attention shifted back to Eloise, dismissing me entirely.

“Come on, gorgeous,” he said, reaching for her arm. “We should head back inside before people start noticing your absence.”

Eloise hesitated.

Then, to my utter delight, she took a step away from him.

“Actually,” she said, turning toward me instead, “I think I’m going to grab a drink with Kathleen and learn more about those worker bees.” She glanced at me, her hazel eyes gleaming with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. “If you don’t mind?”

I grinned, immediately catching on to what she was doing. “Of course not!” I said brightly, offering her my arm. “I always love a free drink.” I made sure to emphasize the word free, just to piss Landon off.

Eloise let out a soft laugh as she linked her arm with mine, and together, we left that arrogant jackass standing alone on the balcony.

Girl code, right?