The Girl Who Read The Dating Manual

rule twenty-four: moving on means letting go

"Thank you for everything," I told her, turning around to face her and playing with the glittering bracelet adorning my wrist. "Without you this never would have happened. Thank you for being the most incredible friend anyone could ever ask for."

"Ditto," she told me, winking. "You deserve every happiness, Candi. And you're minutes away from getting it."

She disappeared through the arched wooden doorway, leaving me alone in the room. I looked around at the beautiful furniture, before turning back to the ornate mirror.

The people working on me had done a magnificent job, and I felt beautiful. My blonde hair had been curled and pinned back into an intricate chignon at the side of my head, with my bangs falling in wispy tendrils on either side of my face. I wore glittering foundation, light eye make up and light lipstick. I wasn't wearing much jewelry, except for my engagement ring and the bracelet on my wrist.

A flutter of nervousness spiked through my stomach, and I shut my eyes and took a few deep breaths to clear the nausea. People got married all the time. All we were doing was cementing our love forever. Even though a million things could go wrong...

I opened my eyes and looked one more time into the mirror, hoping to see a girl who looked at least a little more confident in her appearance.

I gasped as I realized I wasn't alone in the room. Behind me stood Chance, framed in the doorway in a suit. His hair was shaggy but respectable, and he was looking at me in wonderment.

"Chance?" I whispered, turning around to make sure it was real and not some kind of hallucination. He still stood there though, tall and handsome as ever. "Chance, what are you doing here? I thought you went back to America."

"I did," he replied, before shaking his head. "Well, at least I tried. I made it to the ticket counter. The woman asked me where I was going, and you know what? I couldn't answer. Because I realized there was nowhere I wanted to go if you weren't there. I had to come back."

"I was worried about you," I admitted, looking down. "I didn't want you to go."

"And I didn't want to go," he replied, smiling crookedly. "As much as I want to—as much as I try to stay away—as much as it hurts—I can't stay away from you."

I looked away, searching the walls for an answer, or something to say to make it okay. But what can you say when you're about to marry another man and your old flame appears right before your wedding? I could hardly form a word, let alone a reassurance.

"Don't marry him."

I looked up at him. "Chance..."

"Don't marry him," he repeated, and I realized with a breaking heart that there were tears in his eyes. "Please, Candice. I am begging you. Don't do this. Don't do this to me."

"Chance, I'm sorry," I whispered. "I..."

He walked forward and grabbed my hands, holding them in his. "I've felt love before. I felt it with Zoëy. I let her slip through my fingers. I lost my fiancée. I lost my daughter. I can't lose you, too."

"Chance, you'll never lose me," I whispered. "I'll always be here. And I hope one day you find someone you love as much as I love Will."

"I have," he replied. "And she's about to marry the wrong guy."

I felt a tear slip down my cheek, and he reached up and brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. "I came back for you. I came back because I believe in us. All you have to do is believe in us, too."