Page 66 of The Fake Dating War

Another argument against a big affair is the sheer cost. Having experienced financial desperation these last two years, the thought of sinking multiple zeroes into anything makes me feel sick.

“No,” I say resolutely. “I don’t want this for myself.”

“What do you want?”

“Something more selfish.”

“Tell me what that means.”

We’re killing time, and I don’t mind distracting him from the fact that I’ve taken him hostage. “I wouldn’t want to plan anything. The celebrating with people you love part I appreciate, but organizing is exhausting, especially on this scale. My sister spent the better part of the last ten months trying to pull off this week.”

“So you want to be a lazy bride?”

“Thelaziest.”

“But you’ve been known to work hard before.” He shrugs. “Once or twice.”

I roll my eyes. “Doing it for my job is different.”And because of bad circumstances.

“Do you even knowhowto be hands-off?”

“Not that it should matter to you, but I’d work hard at being completely useless. Since I’ve planned none of it, I wouldn’t know what was going right and what was going wrong. I could just enjoy it all.”

I wait for Coleman to say I’ve set the bar too high for the male species. That no one would plan an entire wedding for their partner like that.

Instead, I find he’s watching me… like I’m a spreadsheet. Like he’s adding up information to problem-solve. My cheek flushes harder. What? Why is he doing that? He needs to stop looking as if he’s trying to figure me out.

“Would you invite everyone you met today?” he asks.

“Fuck no.”

My answer seems to satisfy him.

The clock ticks loudly between us. I’ve no idea when Manu is coming, and my feet are getting tired. And if I don’t rest now, there will be no time for it later. Like Coleman said, with the Jago lasting late tonight, the schedule is brutal.

Leaving my spot by the door, I take off my shoes and lie down on the bed. Just for a few minutes, then I’ll get up again.

When I feel the spot by my feet dip, I hiss. “What are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable in my prison.”

His shoes are toed off, and then he stretches himself out beside me. It’s a queen bed so we don’t touch anywhere, but he takes up so much damn space. I feel the heat of him radiating against my skin.That’swhy it pebbles.

“Lie on the ground,” I order.

“You lie on the ground.”

“Chivalry has been murdered.”

“Have you seen the state of your room? You little pigsty, who knows what I’ll find on the floor.”

“Says the serial killer who definitely folds his underwear.”

Our faces have turned, so we’re looking at each other. “What underwear?” he drawls.

“You don’t wear underwear?!”

His mouth curves very smugly. “It sounds like you want to check.”

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