Daniel Garrett: They Took Her From Me

Chapter 4: Kat

“Okay,” I said as we ascended the stairs leading down to the lobby, where I could already see Benjamin and Brian waiting for us.

The grandeur of the venue surrounded us—polished marble floors gleamed under the soft lighting, and the air buzzed with quiet anticipation. The scent of fresh flowers, lilies and roses, filled the space, mingling with expensive perfume and the subtle undertone of aged wood from the grand staircase’s banister.

“There’s no rush at all,” I continued, adjusting Lydia’s grip on my arm slightly to steady her. “Just walk slow, keep holding onto Brian, and then just look happy.”

“I am happy,” Lydia grinned up at me, her green eyes shining with excitement.

“Yes, yes,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “You keep telling yourself that, and eventually, everyone might actually believe it.”

She scoffed but nudged me playfully in the ribs, her touch light yet affectionate. “You know, for someone who hates weddings, you were very quick to offer up being a bridesmaid.”

“I don’t hate weddings,” I scoffed as we reached the bottom of the stairs, the click of our heels echoing faintly through the grand space. “I hate marriage—the fact that you’re legally binding yourself to a man for the rest of your life. What if, in ten years, he doesn’t wanna have s*x anymore? Then what are you gonna do?”

Lydia threw her head back, laughing—a soft, bell-like sound that, despite my cynicism, made me smile. It was the kind of laughter that made people turn their heads, momentarily distracted by its warmth. She looped her arm through mine as we walked toward the waiting men, her fingers squeezing my forearm lightly.

“Not everything is about s*x,” she whispered conspiratorially, lowering her voice as we neared her father. “Besides, I’m great in bed. He’ll never be able to keep his hands off me.”

I couldn’t help it—the laughter burst out of me before I could stop it. It was true. Lydia was, and always would be, my best friend—the one person I could always be myself around. The one person who got me, who understood me without me having to explain myself. She was my safe space, just as I was hers.

Truly, I was happy for her and Joshua. I had seen them at their worst, seen the fights, the frustrations, the breaking points. But wasn’t that what real relationships were? A constant test of resilience, of choosing each other again and again, despite the hardships? I had only been in one real relationship in my life, and even that had ended in disaster. But from where I stood, it seemed like Lydia and Joshua had figured it out—they had worked through the kinks, faced the ugly parts, and still wanted to hold onto each other. And wasn’t that the whole point?

If they wanted to spend the rest of their lives together, who was I to stop them? I might not understand the urge to tether yourself to one person forever, but I couldn’t deny what I saw when I looked at them.

Somehow, in my mind, I had come to define love based on what they showed me. Because if that wasn’t love—if the way Joshua looked at Lydia, the way Lydia softened in his presence, the way they reached for each other even in casual moments—if that wasn’t love, then I truly didn’t know what love was.

I had read about it plenty, even tried writing about it once or twice, but it had always felt contrived. Love, as I saw it, was dull. Predictable. Stifling. The idea of coming home to the same person day after day, knowing every detail, every habit, every routine, made my skin itch. The thought of promising yourself to one person, no matter how much you changed over the years, felt like a slow suffocation.

It just wasn’t for me.

“Sure, that’s the slogan of marriage,” I said, waving my hand dramatically as if painting an invisible banner in the air. “‘Marriage: If anything doesn’t work, just spread your legs until it does.’”

Benjamin, who had been silently observing our exchange, let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. “Sounds like a very healthy outlook on marriage,” he mused, arching an eyebrow slightly, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

I shrugged. “I know, right?” I grinned at him. “I should have become a marriage counselor instead. Can you imagine the brilliance of my advice? I’d be booked out for months.”

Benjamin gave an exasperated shake of his head, but I caught the way his lips twitched. He had been smiling more these days, and I knew exactly why. It wasn’t just the wedding atmosphere, and it definitely wasn’t because of me. The reason was Violet.

Honestly, if I were spending more time with Violet, I’d probably be grinning all the damn time too. She was magnetic—clever, sharp-witted, and effortlessly charming in a way that made people gravitate toward her. I liked her. I really liked her. And I had a feeling she would become an integral part of our little group soon enough.

I turned my attention back to the matter at hand, straightening my posture as the wedding planner waved us forward. The music had started—a soft instrumental melody floating through the air, signaling it was time.

Before I knew it, Benjamin and I were being ushered down the aisle, the expectant gazes of the guests washing over us like a wave.

Benjamin exhaled slowly, adjusting his suit jacket, and I could feel his anticipation buzzing next to me. I got it. If I had someone waiting for me, someone I loved—really loved—I’d probably be anxious as hell to get to them too.

But I didn’t have anyone waiting for me. Maybe I never would again.

I had officially given up on my love life—not in some dramatic, woe-is-me kind of way, but in the quiet, resigned manner of someone who had finally accepted the inevitable. I had peaked. My best days of romance, passion, and toe-curling orgasms were officially behind me. And I had no one to blame but myself.

The last man to truly rock my world, to make me feel something other than fleeting attraction or momentary pleasure, had been my car guy. And like the absolute i***t that I was, I had let him slip away. Or rather, I had shoved him away, convincing myself that it was for the best, that I was protecting my heart, guarding my emotions, being smart.

But in doing so, I had also let him take something irreplaceable with him—every possible future orgasm that might have compared to what he had given me.

I loved s*x. I loved the rush of it, the intimacy, the power play, the way bodies moved together in a perfect, chaotic rhythm. I loved receiving just as much as I loved giving, but since him—since that night—I had been left with nothing. He had ruined me.

That delicious, sexy, infuriating, arrogant jackass had taken away my ability to enjoy anyone else. With his skilled hands, his wicked mouth, and his—well, let’s just say, impressively proportioned body, he had set a standard that no one else had managed to meet.

And I had tried.

Oh, how I had tried.

I had attempted to move on, to find someone else to take his place, to undo the damage he had unknowingly inflicted. But no matter what I did, no matter who I touched or who touched me, I always found myself comparing. No one’s mouth could do the same, no one’s hands felt as good, no one knew exactly how to pull pleasure out of me the way he did.

I was cursed.

“Kat?”

Benjamin’s voice pulled me out of my spiraling thoughts, snapping me back to reality. He was looking at me with mild concern, his brows slightly furrowed as he no doubt noticed how far I had drifted into my own head.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, shaking off the remnants of my mental detour. I squared my shoulders, raised my chin, and plastered on my best confident smirk. “Ready.”

He gave a curt nod to the wedding planner in front of us, who returned it with the biggest, most plastic smile I had ever seen. She looked like the human embodiment of a Stepford wife, her expression so painfully rehearsed that it made me want to roll my eyes. Instead, I swallowed my irritation as she dramatically swung open the grand doors.

And just like that, every head in the room turned toward us.

I felt their gazes immediately—the weight of them, the subtle shifts in expressions as men’s eyes flickered over me, appreciating what they saw.

Lydia had let me pick my own bridesmaid dress, and I had taken full advantage of that privilege. The soft pink gown hugged my figure like a second skin, the silky fabric clinging to every curve in a way that was both elegant and undeniably seductive. It wasn’t too revealing—just enough to tease, to hint at what lay beneath. My hair was pinned up in a style that left the curve of my neck exposed, my makeup was understated, allowing my eyes and lips to do all the work.

I knew I looked good. And I loved the attention.

Benjamin and I made an undeniably attractive pair, and I knew the wedding pictures would capture that perfectly. From an outsider’s perspective, we could have been mistaken for siblings—our similar features, the way we moved together effortlessly. But there was nothing familial about the way some of the men in the audience were looking at me.

I reveled in it, soaking up every lingering glance, every appreciative flick of an eye—until I felt it.

That sensation.

The one I had only ever felt once before.

A prickle of awareness raced down my spine, goosebumps rising on my arms despite the warmth of the room. It was like an invisible current of electricity was buzzing through me, my body suddenly hyper-aware, alert in a way it hadn’t been in months.

It couldn’t be…

And then I saw him.

Car guy.

My breath caught in my throat, my heart slamming into my ribcage as my eyes locked onto his.

If I had thought he was intimidating in the darkness of that parking lot, he was utterly devastating in daylight.

The tailored suit he wore hugged every sculpted inch of his body, emphasizing the broad expanse of his shoulders, the sharp lines of his torso, the raw power that lay beneath the expensive fabric. His metallic gaze—so cold, so unreadable—burned into me, raking over every inch of my body with an intensity that sent a pulse of heat straight to my core.

And then I saw it.

A scar—one that I hadn’t noticed before—ran down through his eyebrow, cutting through his sharp features, trailing all the way to his lip.

Oh. God.

The memories hit me like a tidal wave, crashing over me with such force that I almost stumbled. Every touch, every whispered word, every wicked smirk and heated glance from that night came rushing back to me all at once. I could feel him all over again—his hands gripping my hips, his mouth on my skin.

My stomach tightened, a visceral, unmistakable reaction to his presence.

And he wasn’t just looking at me—he was devouring me with his eyes.

His expression shifted then, morphing from stunned recognition into something far more dangerous. His jaw clenched, his shoulders squared, and his gaze darkened with an intensity that sent a delicious shiver down my spine.

Predatory.

That was the only way to describe it.

I had never seen someone look at me like that before. Like I was something to consume. Like I was prey that had just wandered straight into the jaws of a starved beast.

I had to look away.

I forced myself to drag my gaze from his, to pretend that the man who had been haunting my thoughts, my dreams, my body for the past year wasn’t standing just a few feet away.

My eyes landed on Joshua, who was watching me with mild concern, his brows drawing together as he silently asked if I was okay.

And I couldn’t help but smile.

Because yes—yes—everything was about to be very okay.

I was finally going to get another mind-blowing orgasm.

I caught Joshua’s gaze and mouthed the words, Car guy, up at him. His confusion was instant, his head tilting slightly as he tried to scan the crowd, searching for whoever had caught my attention. The moment he realized he couldn’t pinpoint who I was looking at, disappointment flickered across his face.

Meanwhile, I could feel it.

His eyes.

Car guy’s eyes.

They never left me. Not through the ceremony, not through the vows, not even as I walked back down the aisle.

And only when we finally exited the hall did I allow myself to breathe again.

He was here.