Page 46 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

“Miss Maisie is a local legend,” Lucy explains. “She’s the wise woman of the beach. A harbinger of good fortune. Our ambassador to the sirens. She also makes an amazing vegan baked ziti.”

I’m not sure if that explains how she seems to know exactly who I am, but it’s not important. Not when Lucy and I have reached a point in our dynamic where we’re no longer snapping at each other’s throats. Something shifted last night. I don’t know what exactly changed, but things feel different between us. Less tense. Less like tinder waiting to be struck.

“She’s also Amy and Ruby’s grandmother,” Lucy continues. “The twins, I mean. I’m sure you’ve seen them. Do you think this flower arch is crooked?”

I blink, trying to keep up with her babbling and the sharp change of topic. At this point, the chairs have all been set up and the conservatory has mostly emptied out, save for a small groupof people fussing with garlands of blue ribbon and fluffy peonies down by the double-door entrance.

Lucy is frowning up at the cascade of wisteria overhead. Only then do I realize that we’re standing on the altar together, and we have been for quite some time. I swallow hard, trying to ignore the strange tingling sensation that feels an awful lot like desire.

“I think it’s fine,” I tell her.

She shakes her head. “No, the balance is off. Can you reach that bundle up there and move it slightly higher?”

Thanks to my height, I’m able to reach the offending tendril of wisteria without effort. With Lucy’s guidance, I gently weave it around a different curl of wire.

She continues frowning, though.

“No, wait. I think the problem is these flowers over here.”

“Lucy, it looks perfectly fine.”

“It doesnot.”

With a sigh, I let her continue to direct me. My arms start aching as I carefully reposition the delicate trails of wisteria to Lucy’s satisfaction, but I don’t dare complain.

She grins at me for half a heartbeat, but the smile fades almost instantly when I try to let my arm down and realize that the long sleeve of my shirt is caught in the wire. I pull, but the sturdy cotton doesn’t budge, and I don’t want to ruin the arch. It’s quite literally the centerpiece of the entire ceremony.

“I’m stuck,” I tell her.

“Yes, I see that,” she mutters.

Lucy walks away wordlessly. For a second, I’m wondering if she plans on leaving me here, imprisoned in the wisteria. She returns a moment later, however, with a step stool in hand. She sets it down beside me and climbs until she’s a couple inches taller than me.

With a cautious touch, she tugs at my sleeve. All I can do is stand there with my arm awkwardly suspended above my head, terribly aware of how close she is to me once again. I find myself smiling at what looks like a coffee stain on the shoulder of her t-shirt. It really looks like she rolled out of bed and immediately stormed over here. There’s something endearing about that single-minded determination to make this the best possible wedding for her cousin. Josie is lucky. I come from a small, fractured family. I don’t think anyone has ever cared about me like Lucy cares for Josie.

Weirdly, as Lucy fusses over my sleeve, I think I might be jealous of that. Jealous of the people who have Lucy’s affection. Josie, Elijah, Eric… it must be truly amazing to bask in her light like that. To not be the storm cloud that threatens to hang over her.

“How did you even manage to getthisstuck?” she mutters.

“You tell me. I was just following your commands.”

“Well, you were only supposed to hook the stems in the wire, not your own clothes.”

I roll my eyes. “Really? I had no idea.”

Lucy huffs in frustration. “Listen, I really don’t want to rip your sleeve, but—”

“Just do it.”

“No, I think…” she trails off, her tongue sticking out slightly as she pours all her focus into extracting me from this fragrant jungle.

A dark wave of her hair springs out of her braid and brushes against my jaw. I remember the way she yelped and laughed when I broke that balloon over her head last night, her wild hair curling in the sudden dampness.

Her face is so close to mine, almost as close as it was last night, but she doesn’t even seem to notice.

“Aha!” she exclaims.

There’s a release of tension and my sleeve breaks free from the wire without ripping. Lucy beams proudly and shifts on the stool to face me fully. I find myself gazing up into her eyes. A stray wisteria petal has detached from the arch and landed in her hair. Without thinking, I reach up and brush it away.

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