She'd never been a maid of honor before. Not even a bridesmaid, for that matter.
A bride once, sure. Richard's sister had stood up for her then, along with another nurse who she'd asked out of desperation. Ever so considerately, her husband-to-be had also limited the number of his groomsmen to two so that she wouldn't look completely pathetic. It hadn't worked.
Abby just wasn't a 'friend' person. Neela asking her had almost surprised her as much as the news of the marriage. Sure, it was probably just because none of her family or friends from home could make it, but still.
Startling them both, she'd hugged the younger woman. And later, she'd stood on a stage with Jerry and Pratt, of all people, and watched Gallant walk her down the aisle.
Twirling her plastic fork in the too-sweet icing on her slice of cake, Abby glanced over at the couple now. Gallant was clapping to cheer on the limbo tournament just starting, arms still firmly around Neela's waist. She had to smile at the gesture, even if she shook her head at the same time.
So it was a bad idea. So it probably wouldn't work out. Maybe sometimes, you had to take a chance and just hope to hell you were wrong.
Her ears picked up the faint sound of a bell across the crowded, noisy restaurant. When she looked over at the door, Luka was there, shaking snow from his coat.
He'd stopped singing, she'd stopped laughing, and now there was only silence. He was waiting for her to get out of the car. She didn't know what she was waiting for.
In the silence, she could hear memories too well. Friends. Friends. That's all. Luka had driven her home because they were friends. There was no point in making more out of it.
A gust of wind swirled snow before the windshield. Abby shivered slightly, suddenly realizing that she was cold. He probably was, too. "Would you like -"
'- to come up for some hot chocolate?' she finished in her mind. Couldn't say it, because he'd somehow managed to turn around in the cramped front seat to press his lips to hers. And, dizzily, she noted that they were warmer and sweeter than the chocolate could ever hope to be.
For the second time in three days, they stumbled in the general direction of a bed, too intent on touching one another to look where they were going.
Second time. Three days. After four years. The thought didn't catch up to her until she lay above him, fighting to clear her mind of his bare skin against hers. "Do you really think we should be doing this?"
Then her back was against the sheets, eyes fixed on his, and she was kissing him again almost before he could murmur, "I do."