Page 39 of Just My Fake Husband

“Whatever,” I say and then my jaw smarts as I force myself to be calm. We’re supposed to be playing a role here. I tilt my head to warn her and raise my arms, asking a non-verbal question:hug incoming?

She shoots out a breath likeHere we go, which I take as a signal to go ahead. I step towards her and wrap her in my arms, her curves pressing tight against me. Wow. She’s curvy. So soft. In all the best ways. And she’s tall, her head a few inches below mine, so her breath is right at my neck, tickling me, tantalizing me.

I go to pull away and she holds on tighter. “People are watching,” she hisses in my ear. “You do not give your soon-to-be bride a hug that short.”

She smells like vanilla.

“They don’t know you’re my soon-to-be bride.”

“But we want it to make sense to them when I am your bride, don’t we? Remember the Oscars?”

The back of her dress hits right below her shoulder blades and as I deepen the hug, I feel a series of drawstrings tied tightly in bows. This dress. The soft fabric is something else. And those tie things in the back? What is she trying to do to me?

Can we set rules for this kind of thing? She can’t wear something like this and expect me not to enjoy it, can she?

When I don’t respond, she whispers in my ear. “We could just pull out all the stops and make out, right here, right now.” Her lips brush against my ear so lightly I wonder if it’s intentional or an accident.

Either way, I’m putty in her hands.

My brain’s still stalled on the making out idea when she gives a low chuckle, breaks apart and walks away, her high, blonde ponytail swinging from side to side. She answers her phone from a pocket in her dress. “I have to take this, sorry,” she says before turning and stepping under a tree, her back to me.

I don’t mean to overhear, but I’m not about to join everyone else without her.

“Thanks,” she says to whoever is on the other line. “I don’t care. You choose.” She gives an exasperated sigh. “Whatever. Maybe colors that match an August vibe? But not too big.”

She’s talking about our wedding, that much is clear.

“Jana, I don’t even want to do this.”

My heart sinks. As more is said and as she listens to Jana on the other line, everything about this conversation she’s having, from her posture to her words, makes it clear she does not want to marry me.

Which makes sense. But part of me wondered if she could possibly see this as some sort of adventure.

It’s clear she does not.

When she finishes the call, she doesn’t even look at me, stepping past me and raising a hand in the air. “Quinn!” She shouts to my sister-in-law, Henry’s wife a second time over. Yeah, Henry and Quinn were married. Then divorced. Now they’re married again.

We’re glad Quinn’s back in the family.

As I follow her and we make our way through the crowd, shaking hands and hugging people, it seems like she knowseveryone better than I do. This is my own family, but there’s a level of ease between them and River.

If this were a real marriage, River would have been a solid choice, seeing as how my family already knows and loves her.

“I’m not crashing this family thing, I promise!” She gives up a laugh and tugs on her dress. She whips around to face me, her eyes expectant and wide. Apparently, she wants me to say something.

“She’s not crashing it because she’s my plus one.” I reach out to her, and she steps toward me. We grasp hands and connect seamlessly, like we’ve been doing this our entire lives.

Their faces hold various levels of shock and amusement. Seconds tick by. Finally, Elianna does aWhew!type of a yell and jumps, her fist raised in the air. It breaks the ice and now there’s a flurry of questions. Mom’s on the edge of the crowd, a small smile on her face.

“When didthishappen?” Sophie asks.

“How did you even meet?” Alec asks.

“But you were just in Europe for a month, how did . . .?” Quinn’s brow is quizzical.

“Alright, alright, we’ll answer that,” I say. “But then all conversation needs to be focused on Milo the Grad.”

Milo holds out his palms. “No, trust me, I’d rather we talk about this.” He knows full well there’s not much to say. Not much we evencansay.

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