Page 2 of The Fake Date Deal

“But do you think… Do you feel… Could you love him?” Gabriella followed me as I went to the window. We stood looking out, shoulder to shoulder. I glanced at Gabriella and wondered about her feet. Soon, it would be her turn, but would she accept it? Or would she carve her own path as she’d always done?

“They’re in love now,” I said, nodding at our parents. They were up by the rose arch, deep in conversation. “Maybe they weren’t always, but they made it work. They grew into each other. Don’t they seem happy?”

Gabriella’s brow wrinkled. “They seem kind of annoyed.”

I squinted at them. They kind of did. Mother was gesturing, flapping her hands. Then they both turned back and marched up the aisle.

“Where are they going?”

Gabriella frowned. “I don’t know.”

“Could you go check on them?” I asked. “Aren’t we running late?”

Gabriella checked her wrist, but she wasn’t wearing her watch. She found her phone instead and peered at the screen. “Not that late,” she said. “But I’ll go see what’s happening.”

I turned my back on the window, tired of the view. Annoyance pricked at me, and a dawning unrest. What was the holdup? I’d been ready how long? Half an hour easy, and that felt too long. They’d pinned the flowers in my hair at the last minute so they wouldn’t wilt in the midsummer heat. My makeup felt like it was starting to melt. It looked fine in the mirror, but that wouldn’t last.

“Champagne?” said Emma, and offered a glass.

“Better not. My lipstick…” I took the glass anyway, and tried a small sip. The bubbles tickled my palate and I almost sneezed. I set the glass down and blinked back the impulse. Another bridesmaid poked her head in the door.

“Hey, Gabriella? Is Gabriella here?”

“She went looking for Mother.” My stomach did a backflip. “What’s going on, Céline?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I’d better find Gabriella.” She went to duck out, but I caught her arm.

“Seriously, what’s happening? What is it? Céline?”

She shook her head. “I swear, I don’t know. Your mother just sent me to run and get Gabriella.”

“Well, where’s Rafael? Is something the matter?”

Céline looked panicked. “No. I don’t know. They just said ‘get Gabriella.’ That’s all I know.”

I went to the doorway and scanned the wide hall outside. Up by the cloisters, the coast was clear. Down by the garden, a knot of guests had formed. I spotted two of Rafael’s cousins. One of them noticed me and elbowed the other, and they hurried back out into the garden. The rest of the guests followed more slowly, all sneaking furtive glances in my direction.

“Okay, what the hell?”

“Don’t stress,” said Emma. “Bad wedding, good marriage.”

“That’s not a saying.”

“Sure it is.” Emma tugged at my arm. “At my mom’s wedding, the flower girl got sick. She threw up red grape juice all over my mom. Her dress was ruined. She had to wear her mom’s. Thirty years later, they’re still going strong.”

I tried to smile, but I felt sick, myself. Hadn’t I just been picturing Rafael dead? What if I’d somehow… if something had happened? I’d never forgive myself for wishing it would. Maybe Rafael wasn’t the man of my dreams, but he’d always been kind to me. He hadn’t asked for this any more than I had.

“Come sit,” said Emma. “Whatever the hitch is, your parents will fix it.”

“But—”

“By this time tomorrow, you’ll be in Paris, eating macarons in a bubble bath in your hotel.”

I laughed despite myself. “What, I’m stress-eating? On my honeymoon?”

“No, you’re relief eating, because you’re out of that dress. And you’ll never have to fit into it again.”

My brittle laughter faded. I hadn’t thought once about fitting into my dress. I hadn’t had to — I’d been losing weight.

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