Page 43 of Just My Fake Husband

I’m not normally like this, all solemn. I wish I could summon Gabriel’s charm on my wedding day, but it is what it is.

We reach the top of the stairs and again, he looks me over, with a spark in his eyes.

“Nice dress.”

“You paid for it,” I shoot back.

Have some patience with me,I want to say.I’ve never gotten fake married before.

I feel a little better when Skye gives Gabriel a big hug and he tells her she looks pretty in her classic floral dress with pearl buttons down the front. We ordered it online and it came just in time.

Milo smiles widely. “This is exciting, guys!” he says.

I refrain from asking, “Is it?” and only give a weak smile.

“River said, ‘no Lunch Lady Liz today,’” Skye says, shooting me a look.

“Come on, River. Why couldn’t the dog join us on our big day?” Gabriel winks.

I give him side-eye. “She’s safely in her kennel at Jana’s house.”

I perk up when the woman from the front desk brings us the paperwork.

Did you know that in the state of Colorado, an officiant isn’t required for a legally binding wedding? Yep. Two people can just simply sign on a dotted line and it’s a done deal.

Still, Milo and Jana insisted we say vows. Milo really wanted to marry us, and he was supposed to say something short and generic, but he goes over the top. He quotes Robert Browning and Pablo Neruda.

Pablo Neruda!

This isn’t that kind of wedding.

Still, I don’t know if it’s because my parents are gone or if I fear this could very well be my one and only wedding, but my throat grows thick at Milo’s words about loving for love’s sake and loving someone without knowing how or where it’s coming from. I have to drop my gaze to the small bouquet Jana picked out and focus on the gentle curves of the roses and ranunculus.

Then, Gabriel slides a ring on my finger, and I’d be darned if the thing isn’t real—a classic solitaire with a large diamond. Now I’m feeling bad about the wonky Excalibur ring I got him. It doesn’t help that he frowns a little when I put it on his finger. He’s probably wondering what in the world is on it. The sword sort of does look like a light saber.

Now that would have been cool—a Star Wars themed ring.

Done. If I ever get fake-married again, that’s what I’ll get my fake husband. And I’ll wear my hair in Princess Leia buns over my ears. It’ll be a whole thing.

I’m startled out of my daydream because Milo says it’s time to kiss, and I consider just sticking out my hand for a nice hearty shake. But we have to sell this. If word gets out—who knows who’s lurking in the shadows or behind some dusty filing cabinet—that we shook hands when we got married, what would Thomas Tate think?

And theoretically, I’m not opposed to kissing Gabriel. But my mind is topsy turvy. I’m low-key resentful, and I miss my parents. And in a year, this thing is donezo. No use getting all emotionally involved.

It’s with this Brillo pad shield around my heart that I look at Gabriel, my eyes wide. I knew it was going to come to this, but with so much going on with the move and a fake wedding to plan, he and I hadn’t had a chance to talk about it.

Scratch that, we could have, we just didn’t. And now I’m really wishing we’d figured out a plan, sort of a “we’ll both lean to our respective rights” sort of deal.

His gaze is on my lips and I’m suddenly glad I used my lip scrub this morning. Then, he looks at me and his eyes seem to ask,Is this okay?

Fine time for his baby blues to be asking that! I do appreciate the sentiment but there’s been kind of a long pause, and I panic, answering his question by grasping the back of his neck and pressing my mouth to his.

At first, it’s just . . . there. Two warm mouths pressed together.

It only takes a couple of seconds for his surprise to steady into his lips taking over. Now he’s all in. His lips move over mine and I can’t help but join in the rhythm, my heart thudding.

A zing travels from my mouth throughout my middle and to my extremities—a slow sort of shock of lightning all the way through.

I don’t realize until Gabriel starts to pull away that I’ve moved my hands to grasp his suit coat with both fists. In a jerky motion, I let go, stepping back.

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