Hi there! This is my first story on here so go easy on me :) This is also an official angst warning, there is stormy weather ahead! Still with me? Great! I hope you enjoy the first chapter.

Today is the happiest day of her life and when I saw her this morning she looked it. I got to see her for all of about two minutes just after breakfast. She was in a white satin robe with curlers in her hair and her closest friends fussing with little meaningless details all around her suite. Her face lit up when she saw me and it made me stand a little taller. I said something sarcastic and Elsa, her best friend and blonde of honor, kicked me out of the suite saying something about how I'm not supposed to see anything until this afternoon.

Now it's afternoon. A soft breeze sweeps through the seagrass on the sandbank to our right. It's just enough to make my stifling tuxedo a little more comfortable. I hate ties and black would have been the last color I'd have chosen for a June beach wedding, even in New England. She had to have known we'd be baking in the sun but she liked the way they looked in some magazine; when she asked what I thought the sparkle in her eyes didn't really leave me an option other than agreeing with her. I've never been able to deny her anything.

The violinist pulls a long note out of the strings of her instrument and the crowd stands. My brother, Liam, elbows me with a ridiculous smile on his face. I nod politely, but he's possibly the last person on Earth that I want to see right now. My eyes fall to the angel coming down the long aisle stretched out in front of us, I can't look away. She is perfection. She's always been perfect to me.

She's killing me in her dress. She skipped the traditional bright white for a toned down ivory and it kisses her pale skin so sensually that it should be illegal. Her gown is unassuming and demure in front but I know how low cut the back is and there's something about the soft curve of her spine that makes my mouth water. Her hair is up for the most part but a few golden tendrils have found their way out of her chignon. I'd like to think they're the same errant strands I'm always tucking behind her ears. In one moment I see everything that she has always been to me: from the cute blonde who shamelessly flirted with me more than she should have to the strong, beautiful woman that she's grown into. Sure, we've had rough patches, years of knowing someone will do that but she's everything to me. Everything. She'll never know how important she is to me.

She smiles at me and cocks her perfect eyebrow smugly. She's bloody killing me. I don't think she even realizes what she does to me, what she's always done to me. She'd die of embarrassment if she knew the gloriously depraved things I want to do to her in that dress. If the situation was a little different I'd be pulling that pretty innocent little bodice off with my teeth and spending all night between her thighs reacquainting her soft lips with name, over and over again. She gives my brother a sweet smile and blushes furiously.

She hands her bundle of flowers over to Elsa and tucks one of her unruly curls behind her ear. The small diamond studs in her ears catch the sunlight and throw a thousand little spears of light against her hair, bringing out every shade of gold imaginable. She's so beautiful I can't breathe. She paralyzes me and sends every sense I possess into violent overdrive. She's breaking me, ruining me, bloody killing me and she doesn't even know it. As much as I love and adore her, I hate her with equal measure.

Everything is about to change. Everything. In a few minutes my life is going to implode in a fiery fucking disastrous mess. After a few verses of bad poetry, the obligatory Corinthians reading, and a jewelry swap the only woman I've ever loved, and probably ever will love, will be Emma Jones—my sister-in-law.

Fuck my stupid life.

"Stop thinking so loud, Killian," a very familiar voice breaks through the darkness on the other side of my bed. On nights like these I'm grateful for Belle's thick Melbourne accent, without it I worry she'd sound too much like Emma in the dark. "You're keeping me awake."

"You sure you're not just looking for round two?" I ask even though she already knows the truth. I hate it when she calls me out like this. I'm capable of putting a good show on for most people but Belle's known me for too long and through too much, I'm an open book.

"You say that like round one was something memorable."

"That's unkind, love," I mutter.

"You're thinking about her again." From anyone else it could have been an accusation but not from Belle. She's known love and loss, too, she knows what it's like when the demons won't sleep.

"Her who?" The next thing I know white light is slicing across my retinas and I squint against the brightness. When I manage to crack my eyes open I'm met with skeptical green eyes staring back at me. The light from my bedside lamp flickers through her long dark hair. She's beautiful, she's absolutely gorgeous, I'd be an idiot not to think so, but she's a lot more than that. She's not my girlfriend or anything of the sort; she's my best… well, only… friend and we take our comfort generously in each other. I'm not in love with her, but I do love her. I'd never admit it, especially not to her at the risk of stroking her ego too much, but I sleep better on the nights she stays in my room, even when it's chaste.

"Emma," she says simply.

"Goodnight, Belle," I groan and reach over her to click the lamp off. I met Belle three days after I moved to Los Angeles. I had interviewed at an advertising firm in the valley where she was working as a receptionist. I didn't get the job, but I got her phone number so in the end I came out on top. We went out for a drink with every intention of a one-night stand, so imagine both our surprise when we actually got along and enjoyed each other's company. Belle was fresh off of a break up with a nasty piece of work who did quite a number of her. She was refugee of heartbreak in the City of Angels, just as I was. Our one-night stand turned into a true friendship (with benefits) and eight years later we share a home, a business, and just about everything else.

"Fine, have it your way you big baby. Keep your feelings bottled up in your tiny little dark heart and see how that works out for you.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Emma."

"Stop saying her name."

"Do you think there is any creature on Earth more inept at discussing their feelings than a single British man? That's the lethal trifecta for emotional evolution."

"Alright Sensei, what would you have me do then? Time travel?"

"You know they have these devices for talking, they call them cell phones or mobile phones. How bad could it be to talk to her?"

"Why are you still here?"

"Your bed is more comfortable and I don't feel like walking back to my room."

"You owe me breakfast for this."

"For making sense?"

"For nagging me, it's bad form to badger a man in the middle of the night, lass."

"I'm just saying…" she said with a shrug and settled back down next to me but not together, never together. "It's not easy to watch you do this to yourself, Killian."

"Because you were such a peach for the ages it took to get over the bloody crocodile." I know it's not fair to bring up the ruthless, heartless monster who shattered her heart in a thousand pieces, but I can't help myself.

"You're doing it again, deflecting. The difference between you and me is that I made the choice to put myself back together and move on, even though it was hard and it was painful and I hated it. You're choosing to carry this torch for Emma, regardless of how badly its burning you. If you would just talk to her—"

"Infernal woman, I don't need to hear any of your self help ridiculousness right now. I have an early morning and I need sleep. So if you're going to stay, you'll stay silently."

"Aye, aye, Captain. As you wish, Captain. The woman is better seen than heard, Captain," she snaps and I know I've pushed her too far, she's shutting down. As someone adept at putting up walls I recognize the gesture, but it doesn't change the fact that I don't want to sleep alone tonight.

"Stop that, love," I say as sweetly as I can and grab for her hand to stop her retreat. She doesn't fight me when I wrap my fingers around hers, which is a good sign. She even lets me kiss her hand before she pulls away. "It's been a stressful week at work and I'm just tired. I meant nothing by it."

"I know," she sighs and all the fight is gone from her voice. She kisses my forehead and pulls most of the blankets back over the her side of the bed like usual. "I care about you Killian, I don't like seeing you hurt. Just think about it, ok?"

"Aye, love, I will."