Page 91 of The Accidental Honeymoon

“Yep. The whole point of you agreeing to stay married was for the exposure to help your business thrive. If you need a little help making it happen, then guess what? I’m your guy.”

“Are you sure?”

I brush my lips against her knuckles. “Very.”

She laughs. “Fine. I’ll call her back and say yes.”

Two hours later, I’m wheeling a bakery cart through the glass doors of the Georgia Aquarium. It’s loaded withcupcakes, cookies, eclairs, and donuts; enough sugar to induce a city-wide coma. Calla walks behind me with her hands full of utensils. She juggles them while checking items off of a color-coded checklist.

“Thanks for encouraging me to take this,” she says. “I was really unsure.”

I glance back at her. “This is what you’ve been working toward, right? You should enjoy it. It’s your first wedding.”

“Well… technically it’s my second.” Calla gives me a teasing look. “The first one just got canceled.”

“This one will go more smoothly.”

“You’re right.” She exhales a big breath. “I’m just nervous.”

We stop at an elevator. She leans in to kiss me on the cheek. It’s quick, like a bird stealing a crumb, but it leaves warmth behind. “Thanks,” she says, and my heart skips.

My dumb, traitorous heart.

The reception room is on the second floor. A huge Beluga whale tank fills one wall. The creatures glide through the water like fat, white angels. Calla’s eyes widen when she sees them. “This place is amazing,” she says, half to herself.

I start unloading the cart. “You’ve got this. Go set up.”

She moves with purpose, talking to the wedding planner and caterers with the self-assured authority of a general. I watch her for a moment.

She really is a sweet person. She deserves to be taken care of, no matter what.

When I finish unloading everything, I join her in arranging the desserts on an exquisitely decorated table. She’s meticulous, making sure each treat is perfectly aligned.

“Thanks for helping,” she says while fiddling with the spacing between the eclairs. “I know this isn’t your thing.”

“Are you kidding? I’m learning so much. Like how to stack donuts without crushing them. It’s a real skill.”

She laughs, and I could get used to this sound. After this wedding is over, I should really talk to her about the feeling I’m having that annulling our marriage will shatter me.

The wedding party bursts into the room, loud and chaotic. Someone spots me and squeals. “Oh my god, it’s Jay Rustin!”

Calla pauses with her hand in midair. I see the tension creep into her shoulders. I step away from the table and raise a hand, subtly redirecting the guests.

“Hey guys. Congratulations to the happy couple.”

A groomsman, already half in the bag, stumbles over and claps me on the back. “Dude, can we get a picture?”

“Of course,” I say. “But Calla’s working right now, so?—”

A purple clad bridesmaid cuts me off. “We want a picture of you two! Your Instagram is so cute. Are you really married?”

Calla is looking very pointedly at the eclairs. I need to defuse this, fast.

“Tell you what,” I say. “Let Calla finish setting up, and I would be more than happy to shoot some video by the whale tank. I know all the best angles. You guys will never look better. Sound good?”

There is a chorus of agreement. I look to Calla. “I’ll be back to help in a bit.”

She doesn’t say anything, just nods and goes back to her checklist.

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