Page 86 of The Guy Who Fake Dated Me

“I think they had to send one guy to the ER for getting stabbed in the eye.” I glanced around the reception. The ballroom had been transformed from the masquerade look the night before into a wonderland of white clouds, lights, and crystal everything. Including the table where we sat.

“That’s what he gets for being greedy and looking up.”

We both laughed, and Logan reached for my hand. Before I interlaced my fingers with his, I straightened the napkin so each corner would be touching the rounded edge of the table.

Then I cursed myself.

Ever since Logan and I had professed our feelings for each other the night before, I’d had uncontrollable urges to fix everything I saw. Including myself. It had taken me twice as long as usual to get ready. I’d tried three different hairdos, even though I’d planned my entire wedding ensemble the week before. Something about each one had been off. Not to mention my eyebrows, which I’d almost had to cover up with concealer because I couldn’t get them symmetrical.

The fact that I could tell Logan’s bowtie was a few degrees off of level meant I was in trouble.

I’d hoped that not saying the L-word would keep me from getting so manic.

This had only happened once before, and it had been enough to drive the guy that I’d been with then away.

I couldn’t let it get between Logan and me. We were too good together. I didn’t want to live without him.

“You okay?” Logan squeezed my hand.

“Yeah. Sorry. Just thinking.” I smiled.

He nodded, took another sip of his drink, and turned his gaze to the room at large.

The bride and groom weren’t having their first dance until after the men and then the women performed. That was supposed to start in ten minutes.

Until then, we were free to eat, drink, and chill out.

My eyes strayed to Kyle and Natalie. He looked handsome in his tuxedo, and she was radiant in her sleeveless mermaid-style dress. The tight fabric around her thighs made me wonder how she was going to do theBoot Scootin’ Boogie.

A few people were still trickling in from the banquet room. Personally, I was so stuffed I wasn’t sure I would be able to jump up and down.

Greta, whom I hadn’t seen much of since the masquerade, plopped down in an empty chair next to me and let out a big sigh. She wore a tasteful ensemble in light purple including a knee-length skirt, a blouse, and a jacket. She sort of looked like the Queen of England.

Logan raised an eyebrow.

I glanced around. “Running from Keith? Is he too much for you?”

Greta snorted. “Hardly.” She eyed the two of us. “Did you have a good time at the ball last night?”

“You know we did,” I said.

A server set a glass of wine down in front of Greta, and she nodded her thanks. Before she took a sip, she said, “Pretty sure everyone knows you had a good time.”

We hadn’t done anything to be ashamed of, and yet a blush still found its way up my neck.

“They’re just jealous,” Logan said.

“Uh-huh.”

“What have you been up to, Greta?” I asked.

“Harassing my relatives.” The glimmer in her eye told me she was downright happy about this.

“Is this different than your normal harassment?” Logan asked.

The older woman sipped her wine again before answering. “Not really. I like to keep tabs on everyone.”

“Why?” I asked.

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