Page 71 of Love You Truly

Keep telling yourself that lie, buddy. Maybe you’ll believe it.

When the music changes and it’s time for Mallory to walk down the aisle, my heart beats a little bit faster. Every time we’ve talked about our wedding, it’s been with a wry wink and acknowledgment that it’s all just a game designed to hoodwink her ex, and we might as well have fun in the process.

“We might as well enjoy ourselves,” she said when we first agreed we could handle being fake fiancés with benefits.

Now, it doesn’t feel like a game. It suddenly feels very real when Mallory appears at the back of the garden with her parents. She’s a vision pulled out of a mythical story. A simple long dress that slinks over her body and emphasizes the gorgeous curve of her breasts and hips while being wholly appropriate for a wedding day. It couldn’t be better suited to her, and it sends a pang of guilt through my chest that I’m not here as a real groom. She deserves that.

As she moves down the aisle toward me, beaming and looking every bit like the bride I’ll never be lucky enough to have for my own, my thoughts snap back to the present. Today, she’s mine. She’s marrying me.

Even if it’s just for show, I might as well enjoy myself, right?

Mallory’s hair falls in loose waves over her shoulders, and her eyelashes frame those sultry eyes that swallow me whole every time I look deep into them. Pink cheeks. Cherry lips.

My cheeks ache, and I realize it’s because I’ve been smiling at her so hard since she began walking toward me.

I can’t help reaching out and running a finger down her cheek and watch her eyes soften when I touch her skin. I’ll never get tired of that reaction, even if someday she realizes she’s doing it. I hope she never realizes.

Mallory’s parents each kiss her on the cheek and step back to take their seats in the front row. She turns her face up to mine and smiles.

At that moment, I’m so fucking gone for her that it’s pointless to tell myself otherwise.

Our minister clears his throat and begins the ceremony.

It’s surreal. In all the years I wondered if I’d ever meet a woman I’d love so much that she’d lead me to this moment, I never expected to be standing here like this—faking a wedding in front of half the people I know.

And never in my wildest imagination did I imagine marrying a woman who seemed so perfect for me—someone who barely knew me but looked at me under shooting stars and saw me better than I saw myself.

The minister’s words blur into the background as I sneak sideways glances at my bride. I want to remember this moment because I may never get another one that feels quite this good.

“We might as well enjoy ourselves.”

Yeah. I’m going to enjoy the hell out of her today and all night long.

When it’s time for my vows, I reach for Mallory’s hand and cup it in mine. Her fingers are warm and delicate in my hand, and I immediately feel steadied by the contact.

The piece of paper in my pocket is wrinkled and crinkly, but I hold it in my clammy hand and read the words I wrote without bothering to censor myself. They sounded like good vows, the kind of thing someone worthy of Mallory would say to her.

I didn’t overthink. I just wrote.

Looking at her face, I feel my nerves disappear. Pink cheeks. Bright eyes. I see every bit of beauty I’ve loved looking at over the past couple of months. I also see beneath it to a person who’s stronger than most people I know and fiercely loyal to her family, even as they’ve misunderstood her ambitions and intentions. I see a woman I respect and love spending time with, and I feel confident that being married to her for a year will be one of the easier things I’ve ever done.

The minister speaks, and a few people recite poetry. There may even be a butterfly release, but I’m not paying attention to any of that. I can’t stop staring at the most stunningly gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.

She has me so gobsmacked that I’m worried I won’t be able to form words when it’s time to recite my vows. The minister points at me, and even though he sounds like he’s speaking in a fishbowl, I realize he’s telling me it’s my turn to talk. I turn to Mallory and take her hand in mine.

“Mallory, you are the light of my life. It’s true today, and it’s been true since the day we met, although I could have done without the pickle bath. But that’s just proof that even when the world seems imperfect, there’s something magical if you know where to look. With you, I never see darkness. I never worry about falling.

“I want to see the sun shine on your face in the morning, and I want to kiss you in the moonlight at night. I want to be there when the seasons change, and when I have good news, you’re the first person I want to tell.

“My world is better because I met you. I feel lucky to be your partner in sickness and in health for the rest of my life. And I feel lucky that after today, you will forever be my wife.”

My voice catches on the last two words, and the minister jokes about me being nervous about commitment, but that’s not what’s happening here. It hits me when I say the words that I really do want Mallory to be my wife.

When I meet Mallory’s gaze, I see her blinking rapidly as if to push back tears. I mentally pat myself on the back for doing a convincing enough job of saying my vows that she seems moved. No, wait. The tears are just for show.

Probably.

She knows how to sell this moment, and she’s doing a fine job of it, so fine that I almost forget it’s not real. Maybe that’s because I really am falling for this woman who I’m about to wed and spend every day with, even if it tears at my very last shred of iron will.

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