Page 47 of Stuck With the Billionaire Grump

Lucy stares at me, her expression unreadable.

Though I try to stop myself, my gaze drops down to her lips. We’re not supposed to be the ones kissing on this altar, but the rapturous desire to feel her lips on mine is so strong that it nearly sends me to my knees.

Neither one of us moves. It’s as if the entire world around us has gone silent.

I might do it. Icoulddo it. I might be misreading the situation, but I’m certain she’d let me kiss her. It feels like unfinished business. An incomplete chapter. Something that the universe demands from both of us.

A shrill chime chops clumsily through the moment like a blunt knife.

Lucy gasps and yanks her phone out of her pocket. She turns off the alarm and quickly hops down from the stool.

“How is it already ten o’clock? Oh my goodness, Josie is supposed to be here at ten. I have to go start getting her ready. And you! You need to go clean up! Get your suit on!”

“It won’t take me four hours to—”

“Go! I’m sure Harry is already upstairs. Shoot, where the heck are my shoes…”

And, as if another almost-kiss didn’t just hang between us, Lucy scampers off—hilariously barefoot—without a backward glance.

Chapter Fifteen: Lucy

“I’m going to cry.”

“Don’t youdare,” I growl.

Josie’s reflection in the full-length mirror grins at me. “You’re the best Maidzilla anyone could ever dream of having, Lu. I didn’t even know it was possible to look like this—to feelthisbeautiful.”

Even though her words are making me feel just as emotional, I glare at her sharply. “No. Crying.”

Josie blinks rapidly, fanning her face so that her mascara doesn’t run before she even gets to the altar. The makeup artist used a waterproof formula, of course, but I’m not taking any chances.

I’m aiming for perfection and I’ll accept no less. Not even from my cousin’s tear ducts.

Josie looks gorgeous. Her cream satin gown is flawlessly tailored to her soft, slender figure. There’s a string of tiny crystals around her throat, resting delicately along the sweetheart neckline. Her mane of hair has been tamed into pretty curls left loose and trailing down her back. The tiara thatMiss Maisie made for her rests perfectly in the thick tresses, twinkling in the early afternoon light. In just a few minutes, she’ll fasten the straps of her pretty white shoes, and we’ll go down to the conservatory.

And then my best friend in the entire world will get married.

It’s just the two of us in the room, now. The hair stylist and the makeup artist have already packed up and gone down. Mabel, who stopped by with sustenance from the kitchen at a variety of points throughout the getting-ready process, is now dressed and assumably waiting in the audience. The other girls stopped by about fifteen minutes ago to get a sneak peek at the bride and coo over her gown, but I shooed them off quickly.

My maid-of-honor dress is light blue silk. It drapes across my tall frame with the same precision and artistry of tailoring as Josie’s gown. I’m wearing my late mother’s pearl necklace and my first stepmother’s sapphire earrings. My hair is styled up in an elaborate twist at the nape of my neck—a style I opted for not only because it’s pretty, but because it’ll make it easier for me to run around, commanding the troops for the rest of the day.

Josie sighs contentedly, strokes her hands down the front of her dress, and turns to face me. Her eyes are twinkling with emotion, her cheeks already flushed with excitement. My throat tightens, but I swallow back the urge to cry. If I shed a tear, so will Josie. It’s always been like that. We cry together, always.

“Is it everything you dreamed it would be?” I ask her.

Her lower lip trembles, and she has to fan herself again. I take a deep breath, fighting the pricking at the corners of my eyes.

Josie has been dreaming of this day for more than half of her life. She has loved Elijah since before she could even understand what love is. Their souls have been tied together since the very start of their lives, and it’s impossible to believe that today is anything other than destiny. To stand here, knowing that, it’s impossible not to believe in the magic of the universe.

My cousin swallows. Exhales slowly.

“It’sbetter,” she whispers in answer. “Thanks to you.”

I shake my head. “I didn’t plan the whole thing on my own.”

“Don’t get bashful on me now, Maidzilla.”

A giggle fights back against the tears for a few seconds.

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