Page 62 of Yours Temporarily

I nod, slipping off my gloves and tossing them aside. “We make a great team.”

He steps beside me as we admire the whimsical design.

“We definitely make a great team.” He wraps his strong arms around my waist, drawing me in front of him. His smile wobbles, and his voice dips low. “Thank you… for saving me and making the cake on such short notice.”

My heart is racing. The way he is looking at me with so much admiration… I part my lips to speak, but the words don’t come out, especially when he leans in. Our lips meet, my fingers move to his jaw, and I savor the sensation of his stubble against my palm as he kisses me tenderly and sweetly. His breath of chocolate and something else has me melting into him, and his intoxicating scent makes me forget my tantrum yesterday.

But again, this is Jeremy, unpredictable where love is concerned. He’s doubtful one day and confident the next.

We’re panting and breathing hard when we pull back. My hands still grip the edge of his shirt, and his arms remain curled around my back.

“You make me feel things”—his forehead rests against mine, and his gruff voice cracks—“things I hadn’t in so long.”

Is that an admission that he loves me? I dare not assume with Jeremy. I’m already terrified he’ll hold onto his promise to end things after Gavin’s wedding tomorrow.

“You’re giving me mixed signals.” I draw back enough to meet his gaze. I must make sure he’s over his ex and wants us to make our pretend relationship real.

“I’m scared.” His voice is hoarse, and vulnerability shadows his eyes.

“What are you scared of?” I hope not me.

“I really like you, Zee,” he whispers, his eyes searching mine. “I just… haven’t done relationships since—”

“Hello!”

We hear another voice, voices actually, and we tear apart. Heels click before Sara intrudes. My mind’s awhirl. Was Jeremy suggesting he couldn’t do relationships despite our chemistry? For a good communicator at company events, he has terrible communication skills in personal matters. I guess, sooner or later, I’ll find out if I need to give back the ring. I like my ring though, and I’d hoped by now things would be clear between us.

“You want to help me put the cake topper on?” I nod toward its box. It should be presentable when his mother looks at it.

I don’t consider myself emotional, but my chest squeezes as I take in the rustic barn and the hundred or so people seated in the decorative chairs. Perhaps it’s the venue’s vibe or me making a wedding cake yesterday, but either way, I’m longing for a real love story of my own.

Jeremy slides in next to his brother at the front with candles lining the aisle. His gaze finds mine, and my heart races the way it usually does. He’s so handsome—yes, he wears suits all the time, but something about this navy suit and its white-and-yellow boutonniere with baby’s breath… Well, it’s formal in a way, and the others in the wedding party match him. To his left is Bryce, then Eric—with gray hair at his temples, he appears slightly older than Gavin and Jeremy. Bryce’s wife, Liberty, and Eric’s wife, Joy, stand on the other side in yellow dresses. In the front row in a fluttery pink dress, I’m seated with Chad and Tessa, also Hope’s friends. Her stomach sticks out of her formal cream dress. She’s almost six months pregnant. I met Tessa with all the girls two days ago. Then, yesterday, we connected as we shopped for the wedding-cake supplies. Serafina and Logan are seated in a group to our left.

Lights are strung across the lofty open-beamed ceiling and twine around the support posts. I don’t have to step outside to know that it’s crisp for April, but I don’t expect sixty-degree temperatures when, through the window, I can still see snow covering the mountain peaks beneath the setting sun.

The string quartet begins, and we all stand. Hope emerges from a room on the side. Perhaps this is how their ceremony is slightly different? She’s walking herself down the aisle, which is good because all eyes are turned to her. Her white gown glimmers under the twinkle lights. Her bouquet is so simple with white and yellow flowers that it’s hard to imagine Sara helped select it. And her radiant smile is so vibrant it brings a rush of heat to my eyes as she trains her gaze on her prize—Gavin.

In the two weddings I’ve been to, the bride emerged from the outside or the back aisle, but it doesn’t appear to matter to Gavin, who seems to struggle to keep his composure. His gaze is focused on Hope. Then he walks over to meet her, and they return to the altar together.

We all sit when the music stops and the pastor addresses the couple.

I find myself digging for a tissue from my handbag as the pastor talks about the three-strand cord that can’t be broken. God is the gold cord between Gavin and Hope’s marriage. “‘Love is patient.…’” The pastor voices the familiar verse in 1 Corinthians 13, and now more than ever, it makes sense.

A tingling sensation heats my eyes, and my gaze flickers to the happy couple who have eyes only for each other. I think Jeremy has looked at me like that before, or was it all my imagination? Now, tears blur my vision as my gaze drags to Gavin’s right, to Jeremy. He’s looking at me right now.

Despite the heated looks and kisses we’ve shared, he’s wishy-washy. I can’t blame him. His ex didn’t leave him much room for trust, and I’m the first woman he’s sort of dated since Sonya, even if it’s not for real. I twist the ring on my finger, a reminder of the bubble I’ve lived in for the last two and a half months or so. It’s about to pop as soon as Hope and Gavin say I do. How am I supposed to get back to the real world?

I try to focus on the bride and the wedding party as the pastor announces them as a couple and grants Gavin permission to kiss his bride. I clap with everyone else.

Throughout the family and group photos, I compose myself and engage with the girls, including Serafina, who seems well acquainted with Hope and all their friends. My gaze keeps drifting to Sonya. Tall, poised, and chic, she’s everything I’m not. Dressed in a stylish cream dress with her wavy hair cascading down her shoulders, she’s as stunning as the models on magazine covers displayed at checkout stands. When she laughs, revealing her straight white teeth, she blends seamlessly into Jeremy’s family and circle of friends. She belongs. And me? I’m his fake fiancée.

A chill tingles over me. I’ve been presumptuous in thinking Jeremy would choose someone like me to take Sonya’s place. In terms of looks and wealth, I’m not in his league. So, unless he makes it clear he wants more from our façade, I can’t assume he’s fallen for me.

My melancholy takes residence as the night goes on. The photos taken, they bring in tables and rearrange the chairs, but I’ve lost my appetite. The bride and groom cut the cake and feed each other the first bites. As people eat cake, the girls and Jeremy compliment me. I attempt a taste to get an idea if I baked a decent cake. Yeah, it turned out pretty good.

Jeremy does a great job with his speech, and I tear up when his voice cracks as he praises his brother, his role model. “I’m confident Gavin will be the perfect husband and Hope the perfect wife for him.”

Several people blow their noses, me as well. Even Sara, seated at the corner table on the first row, dabs a tissue to her eyes. Gavin and Jeremy’s dad nods, seeming proud of his sons.

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