Page 44 of The Wedding Wrecker

JAMES

Neither of us had wanted to drag out the awkward dance of getting ready for bed, so we'd both retreated under the covers way too early, pretending to be more tired than we were. Now, we had both been laying in silence for several minutes, both obviously awake but neither willing to acknowledge it.

The quiet felt charged, filled with unspoken words and the memory of the day’s events. For my part, I kept replaying the kiss at the tasting. I hadn’t planned it, of course, butfuck.I found myself wishing she was mine to kiss like that whenever I wanted. If she was, I wasn’t sure we’d ever leave this damn room.

And yet…

Before Katie, I wanted to find “the one”. I believed there was actually somebody “right” for me out there. Now, though? I felt like happy couples were just unaware—they were the ones who hadn’t had the misfortune yet of figuring out their partner’s fatal flaw.

Relationships were opportunities for pain. They were foolish acts of giving your trust to somebody you could almostguarantee would betray it. And why would I willingly wade into those waters?

But this strange flirtation between real and fake with Emma was… well, it was the best of both worlds, I guessed.

I got to play the doting boyfriend when we were in front of people. I got to let that old part of myself out again, but we both knew it wasn’t real. That meant the hurt wouldn’t be, either, when things inevitably blew up between us again.

It was safe.

Except something in my gut said I was playing with fire.

I ignored my gut, rolling my head to the side slightly so I could see her profile in the dark. The moonlight cast everything in soft shadows, and I found myself oddly mesmerized by a reflective spot of white on her bottom lip. I found myself wanting to reach out—to touch it with the pad of my thumb and follow it with a kiss.

A few more minutes passed while I silently studied her before her eyes opened and she spoke.

We’d been pretending to be going to sleep for nearly half an hour, but it seemed like she was tired of acting like she wasn’t awake.

"I need to understand something," she said, voice oddly tight. "That wedding in Ireland... why did it have to be so public? You could have told them privately, saved everyone the humiliation. Saved my—" She broke off.

Apparently, rule number three was out the window. I thought back on that day and the conflict I’d felt. It was a nearlyimpossible choice. “I didn’t know you were the wedding planner at first,” I said softly.

“I’m pretty sure I made it obvious,” she snapped.

“I was… I really enjoyed our time together that night. I don’t think I was in the most perceptive mindset. I thought you were just a really overly helpful relative, or something.”

“But you did know eventually. And you still wrecked the wedding. I’ve tried, but I can’t understand why you did it. What’s the point in making a big scene when you could just tell them before everybody travels and wastes their time and money? It seems needlessly cruel and dramatic.”

I felt a surprising amount of bitterness rise in my throat. They were all questions I’d asked myself, of course. Hundreds of times. I wasn’t a monster. I didn’tenjoywatching weddings go up in flames. But I did care about doing what I thought was right, and these were the methods I’d eventually decided worked best. "You ever try to tell someone their partner's cheating?" I asked quietly. “Or that their husband has a gambling addiction? Or their wife is hiding hundreds of thousands in debt and they’re about to be financially ruined? Or that he is wanted for a crime in another country?”

"No, but?—"

"It doesn’t go well. Sometimes, they simply won’t hear it. Other times, they confront their partner and end up giving in to their excuses and promises that it won’t happen again. They’ve changed. The wedding is already planned, and won’t they think of the embarrassment of canceling now. People believe in the lie of the perfect day fixing all their problems, as if a memory and some legal papers are going to change who their partner is. Andthe power of not wanting to go against the grain or embarrass themselves by admitting the engagement was a mistake is a powerful thing. Trust me. I’ve seen the kinds of shit people will put up just to avoid going down that road.

“But exposing the truth in front of everybody? That actually works. Something about seeing the horror on other people’s faces has a way of driving the truth home. It’s not love. It’s not meant to be. It’s just over. And if I wreck the wedding, then itshouldbe over. I make sure of that.”

"So you just decided to become judge and executioner of other people's relationships? You get to decide if the problems between them are fatal or not?"

"The wedding in Ireland was already ruined, just like the rest of them," I said, sharper than I intended. "The moment he decided to cheat, it was over. I only made sure everyone saw the truth before legal documents got signed."

"There had to be a better way."

"Like what? Should I do the thing I know doesn’t work and try to tell them before the wedding? Or should I just stay out of it and let the wedding happen? No,” I said firmly. “I don’t want people to go through that kind of hurt. Promising to love someone forever… putting yourself out on a limb like that and placing all your trust in someone… saying the vows? You do all that only to find out they betrayed you, and how the hell are you ever supposed to trust someone again?"

She was quiet for a moment. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."

Smart woman. Too smart for her own good, maybe.

"My ex wife," I said finally. "She was sleeping with my brother. And three other guys. Probably more I never found out about."

Emma's sharp intake of breath was the only sound for a long moment.

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