Page 47 of The Best Friend Power Play

She's wearing a touch of makeup—not that she needs any, in my opinion—and her hair is up and off her shoulders in an intricate bun sort of thing at the back.

She insisted that it was no trouble and that she relished the chance to get dressed up, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to express how much her doing this means to me.

I'm still in low-level shock that in a few minutes, my best friend, the woman I'm closer to than anyone else in the world, is going to be my wife.

My fake wife, sure…but still.

And like a wave rising within me, that unsteady feeling comes crashing into me again.

"So, we're married," Hannah says, once we're back in her Jeep less than half an hour later.

"We are."

The ceremony was brief.

Clinical.

Transactional.

Rather than kissing at the end of the ceremony, as is customary, we hugged instead.

She lifts her hand, inspecting the ring on her ring finger. Nonna gave it to me a few days ago during another one of her daily you need to propose properly lectures. I'm glad she did since it's nice to have something about today that feels special and sentimental.

Hannah starts the engine. "Hey, cheer up. We'll be divorced before you know it."

"That's not funny."

"Oh. I know. This might make you less frowny."

"I am not"—I unfurrow my brow—"frowny."

"What do you call fake spaghetti?"

"I don't know. What do you call fake spaghetti"

She grins. "An impasta."

I can't help but groan. "That's horrendously bad. Even by my own very low standards."

Her grin widens, like she's proud of herself. "Thank you."

The motel we're staying at for the night isn't very far away. The place, like pretty much everything else about today, was Nonna's suggestion. She said she booked it because it's not good for me to be in a car for so long, but I know the real reason. It's not like she's being discreet about it. She's holding out hope that something more will come of this.

I glance over at Hannah.

I'd be an idiot if I didn't consider how amazing it would be to be with someone like Hannah. She's the kind of girl any guy would want. Smart. Funny. Kind. Beautiful. And without a doubt the strongest person I know. To have survived losing her mother so young, then stepped up and taken on an ever-increasing role in raising Chester and Katie, until she was doing it solo for the last seven years?

It blows my mind.

That's the thing about her—she always puts everyone else ahead of herself.

She's even doing it now with me.

I can't put into words how much I owe her, even though she says I don't.

But I do.

This goes way above and beyond the normal call of friendship duty.

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