Page 133 of The Dixon Rule

“Exactly.”

“All right. Then I’ll leave you to your own devices, Dixon. Same time again tomorrow?”

I sigh. I want to say no, but we both know I won’t mean it.

I’m too deep in his dicksand.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

DIANA

Bigger is better

“MY MAKEUP IS DONE. DEAD. BURY IT AND DELIVER THE EULOGY.” I SIGH at my reflection in the mirror.

I suppose my face didn’t stand a chance, considering it just witnessed the most emotional wedding ceremony of all time. And the rampant emotions didn’t even come from the bride and groom! Sure, Gigi had tears in her eyes when she recited her vows, and I swear I heard Ryder’s voice crack several times, but the real emotional floodgates were opened by Gigi’s parents, who both cried the entire time. Garrett Graham battling tears when he handed his daughter over to Ryder was probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.

“Trust me, all of our makeup is ruined,” Mya Bell says wryly. My gorgeous, statuesque co–maid of honor joins me at the full-length mirror, dragging a delicate finger over her smudged mascara.

“Seriously, I need a touch-up if we’re going to take photos at the reception.” This comes from the most beautiful woman in the world: Alexandra Tucker.

With her glossy dark hair, big brown eyes, and flawless, symmetrical features, she’s a perfect ten. It’s crazy that I’m just standing here, you know, next to a supermodel. Whenever I see these influencer models online, I assume every part of their appearance has been filtered to high heaven. With Alex, I was confident she couldn’t be that different in person since I’ve seen her walk runways and that’s hard to filter, but I swear she’s even better in the flesh. Standing here beside her, I can’t find a single flaw.

And when they say lightning doesn’t strike twice, well, joke’s on them. It does. Because Alex’s older sister, Jamie, is drop-dead gorgeous too. Jamie inherited their dad’s red hair, and her features are a bit softer than Alex’s, but I honestly wouldn’t want to be in the position to choose who’s more beautiful. It’s impossible.

Jamie stands across the room chatting with her mom, Sabrina. They’re both lawyers. That Tucker gene pool is something else. Beauty and brains.

Molly Fitzgerald nearly knocks the two women over. She’s bouncing with excitement after nailing her very first flower-girl assignment. Molly’s mother, Summer, finally catches her and says, “I like the energy. But maybe we can bring it down to a five?”

“Yes, because you’re perfectly capable of controlling your energy levels,” Brenna Jensen drawls at the impeccably dressed blond. Neither woman was in the wedding party, but as close friends of the family, they’re able to take advantage of the bridal suite.

There are a lot of beautiful women in this room. It makes me a little self-conscious. I guess Mya shares the sentiment because she pulls me aside and whispers, “Am I the only one intimidated here?”

“Nope.”

She’s still eyeing Alex Tucker. “Okay, good. Because this is kind of surreal.”

It is. And it only gets more surreal when we arrive at the reception, which is being held outdoors on the manicured country club grounds. The entire area is adorned with delicate fairy lights that twinkle like stars in the early evening sky. Even the weather is apparently enamored with the Grahams because it bestowed them with the perfect evening. A clear, warm night without a drop of moisture in the air.

The head table sits under a wooden pergola decorated with white flowers and trailing green vines. The rest of the tables, covered in ivory silk linens and floral centerpieces in hues of sage and white, surround a gleaming dance floor.

I walk in on Beckett’s arm. He’s back from Australia, looking tanned, handsome, and completely fuckable in his black suit. We take our seats at the bridal party table, all our gazes focusing on the head table where Gigi and Ryder sit like royalty with her parents. Since Ryder is parentless, Hannah sits on one side of him while Garrett sits next to Gigi.

I’m gratified that I don’t have to give a speech; Mya takes on the onus of charming the five hundred guests in attendance. I’m not usually scared of public speaking, but this is way too intimidating. Hockey royalty. Supermodels. Media personalities that Garrett has worked with and befriended over the years. Let’s be honest—this wedding is for the parents. But Gigi loves hers enough to give them this gift after eloping, and Ryder loves her enough to give her whatever she wants.

I sit beside Shane, whose appreciative eyes rake over me. “You look so good,” he mutters in my ear.

“So do you.”

Seriously, he fills out that suit like nobody’s business. I’ve been watching him work out all summer, and it shows. He’s broader than he was last year. His pecs are more defined. Biceps are huge. Ass feels more muscular when I’m digging my fingers into it while he fucks me—

“Stop thinking dirty thoughts.” His clean-shaven cheek caresses my chin as he speaks at my ear again. He knows me too well.

The post-dinner speeches go on and on and on and on. Every single one of Gigi’s six godparents insists on coming up to the dais to say something. Ryder’s half brother and best man, Owen McKay, delivers a touching speech that has everybody crying. There’s no fixing this makeup. This is my life now.

Over dinner, I chat with Mya, talk to Blake Logan about her freshman schedule at Briar, and bicker with Shane.

“I can’t believe this is a thing.” Mya flicks her french-tipped fingers between us.

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