Page 26 of Whiskey Kisses

“Eat a gummy, then,” she says, eyeing my jar.

“So I can be high at my own wedding? No, thanks.”

“Whatever,” Opal says, jamming the jar of gummies into her purse. “I’m bringing these, just in case.”

Our ceremony isat one o’clock, but Tristan finally calls at 11:30, asking if I can meet him at Ivy & Rose sooner. Opal’s gone home to get ready, so I take one last look in the mirror and head out, keeping my fingers crossed that I don’t run into my father.

Then again, it’s a weekday, so he’s most likely at work. We haven’t talked since our ill-fated lunch a few days ago when he told me about hisplan to marry me off, so I don’t know where his head’s at, but that’s okay. In a couple of hours there will be nothing he can do.

I drive toward the Plant River District, caught in the surreal, dream-like reality that I’m about to marry someone I crushed on foryears. Ten-year-old Evie would be so chuffed to learn of this, circumstances be damned.

Ivy & Rose sits on the top floor of a hotel overlooking the river. I stare at my reflection in the elevator doors as it takes me up, trying to see someone good enough, pretty enough, to be on Tristan Kelly’s arm. I’m no longer the insecure little girl I once was, uncomfortable in her own skin, but sometimes she still whispers to me.

Tristan’s on the other side of the bar, leaning on a rail facing the river, when I step out of the elevators. It looks like he’s on the phone. My nerves, which have been simmering at low heat all morning, boil over. Clutching my tiny purse like it’s a good luck charm, I make my way over to the guy I’m about to marry.

He must hear the tap of my heels because he suddenly looks over his shoulder, eyes widening slightly. Turning, he looks me over as he murmurs something and ends his call. “Wow, Evie. You look great.”

“It’s not too much?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious. Which is dumb because I love the way I look in this dress.

He shakes his head, his eyes flickering over me like they don’t know where to start. “Nah, it’s nice. Your hair, too. I like it like that.”

Tristan’s compliments send a sweet, fluttery rush through me as I touch my hair, which I left down in natural waves today. I guess his opinion still matters to me, more than I realized. “Thanks. You, too.”

“Thanks,” he says with a grin. He’s wearing gray plaid trousers and a matching suit jacket with a plain white shirt and brown oxfords. Whether he’s dressed up or down, Tristan always looks like money, and he always looks good.Really good.

Clearing my throat, I look around our last-minute venue, which is empty save for a pair of servers chatting with the bartender. Usually, this is a bustling rooftop bar and restaurant, popular with both the lunch and dinner crowds, so I can’t imagine how much it cost to rent, even for a few hours. “Who’d you find to marry us?”

“Larry. He should be here soon—he’s driving down from Atlanta.”Tristan pulls something from his pocket and empties it into my hand. “Here.”

Larry?I stare down at a dainty gold ring adorned with a small solitaire diamond. Tiny emeralds, crafted to resemble leaves, are delicately interspersed along the ring’s front. “Is this ...”

“It’s an engagement ring for the world’s shortest engagement,” he quips, but when I look up, he seems uncertain. Grabbing the ring back, he slides it onto my finger. “Figured we should do this properly.”

“It’s really pretty, Tristan.” I hold up my hand so I can see it in the light. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugs. “It seemed like something you’d wear.”

“It is.” I give him a wobbly smile. “Thank you.”

“You’re not gonna cry, are you?” he teases, his eyes traveling past me. “Oh, good; Larry’s here. Let me introduce you.”

9.Tristan

As far as weddings go, this one was my speed: quick, efficient, and to the point. Good food and plenty of liquor afterward. Not too many people, just a handful of close friends. Only thing missing was my family, even if this is a sham. Lucky wanted to be here, but he’s busy putting out fires back home. First Liam fell off the monkey bars at school and fractured his finger, which is crazy. Then there was a nasty fight over bets at Benny’s, one of our sports bars, a couple days back. Apparently now we’re feuding with a crew from New York. It never ends, I swear.

And I haven’t even told Maeve or my parents yet. They’d say I was being impulsive again—Lucky sure did—but in this case, I know I did the right thing. Them not knowing feels weird, but I’ll share when the time is right.

And as far as brides go, I could do a lot worse than Evie Doyle. EvieKelly. That’s going to take some getting used to. I pull at my collar, glad for the shade and the breeze coming off the river. I’ve always enjoyed playing the field, but sometimes you have to man up. Do what you gotta do.

Beside me, Evie and Opal are listening to a story Finn’s telling about our grandparents. I wasn’t lying earlier when I told her she looked great. Her long, red hair tumbles down her back like flames, and she’s wearing aslinky little dress that hits mid-thigh, exposing more of her pale skin than I’ve seen since she grew up. Pale, but pretty … like porcelain. She shifts in her seat, crossing one leg over the other as she sips her champagne, and the hem of her dress rides up, giving me a flash of her inner thigh.

Averting my eyes before my dick gets any harder than it already is, I take a hearty gulp of my Moscow mule. Normally there’s no harm in looking, but in this case, looking is needless torture. Not only am I legally obligated to celibacy for the next year, but Evie made it clearwewouldn’t be crossing any lines, either. No funny business. Which is fine because we’ve never seen each other like that. Growing up, we were more like siblings than anything else.

Not that Evie isn’t attractive. She is, in a Celtic princess sort of way. She’s kind and quirky and ridiculously smart, and she’s obviously more than able to take care of herself. An image of her choking Cole’s friend comes to mind, followed by an image of her chokingme. I shift in my chair. That’s kind of hot. Yeah, there’s something endlessly appealing about a woman who can hold her own on the mat. Maybe I can get her to train with me while I’m down here.

All that aside, though, this marriage has a purpose, and it isn’t sex. I meant it when I said I’d take care of Evie. I’d protect her with my own body if it came to that, and so would the syndicate. Once they find out, anyway. Evie won’t ever have to worry about money, either. Doyle Whiskey might be on its way out of Randall’s hands, but Evie will always get what’s rightfully hers. Maribelle has a share too, and while I could not care less about her, I have no interest in stealing her inheritance.

Evie glances back at me, flushed in amusement, her hazel eyes warm and open. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but affection spreads through my middle like sunshine, and I kind of wish I was the one making her look like that. Smiling, I rest my hand on the back of her chair and jerk my chin at Finn. “What bullshit are you feeding her?”

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