Page 20 of Don’t Fall For A Bodyguard

I placed a hand on my chest. “I’ll be right out.”

When I opened the door, Lennie was standing in the hallway, his hand on the doorjamb.

“Couldn’t stay away from me, eh, handsome?” I quipped.

Thank fuck, my flirty attitude hadn’t vanished.

You can do this. Keep it light and then tomorrow, get the hell out of here and don’t look back.

Lennie ignored my comment. “My Nonna’s here.”

“Your…grandmother?”

“Yep. Get ready.” Lennie shook his head. “Oh, and Zoe texted me.”

“The band’s PR rep? Why?”

“The wedding posts went viral and now she’s fielding calls and messages from the media. She’s asked us to stop by her office tomorrow first thing.”

“This is insane,” I replied. “Why would people care about our wedding?”

“Because we both work for the band. And Brodie commented on your post, then Holloway, and of course the fans went nuts, and now the whole thing is taking on a life of its own. Congrats, you’re now a celebrity in your own right.”

Lennie crossed his arms.

“It’ll die down,” I reassured him.

“You keep saying that and yet every hour brings something else.”

“There’s nothing we can do except roll with it. It’s a month. Four weeks. And then we quietly announce that the marriage didn’t work out and we move on.”

Lennie bit his lower lip and nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. I?—”

“What?” I asked, moving closer.

“I don’t take marriage lightly. It’s not a joke to me. And now, I’ve turned it into one. I’m lying to my family. And you deserve better.”

“I wouldn’t call what we did a joke. I was feeling lonely, and you comforted me. A little too well, unfortunately. Did we mess up? Yes. But it’s not the worst thing to happen. And I’d rather be fake married to you than anyone else.”

“You’re just saying that—” He moved to turn away.

I grabbed Lennie’s arm. “I’m not. I know I tease a lot, but I’m serious about this. And it’s because I like you—and your family—so much, that I’m finding it hard to tell them the truth.”

He put his hand over mine. And I didn’t want him to let go.

“Then let’s not keep Nonna waiting,” Lennie replied. “But fair warning, she’s not the easiest person to win over. I love her, but she can be a hard-ass. Just ask my dad. And my mom, and my sister?—”

“You mean, she’s just like you?” I chuckled. “If I can win you over, I think I can deal with your grandmother.”

“Hey!” Lennie grumbled.

We headed for the stairs and the closer we got to the main floor, the stronger the aromas of garlic, onion, and tomato. I had a feeling dinner was going to spoil me. Then I heard boisterous laughter and chatter—my kind of party. Lennie was worried for nothing.

“In the kitchen,” Lennie whispered in my ear.

We wandered into his spacious kitchen, with a large island and windows that looked out over the backyard. Lennie’s mom was making a salad, his dad was pouring wine, and his sister was setting the table in the corner of the room.

Then I noticed a frail-looking woman, standing at the stove, no more than five-feet-five, with short white hair. She wasdressed in a black skirt and sweater, and vigorously stirred a large pot.

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