Page 72 of Marrying His Brother

“Did you sleep well,” he asks, staring down at me.

“Sort of,” I say, threading my fingers through my unruly hair. “All I could think about was today. I’m so excited, I feel like I’m going to be sick.”

Andrew laughs. “No, you won’t. You’ll be fabulous and beautiful and in charge. I love you, Emily Bennett.”

“I love you too,” I say, wondering how he can be so cool today, the biggest day of our lives.

He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, then gently propels me towards the bathroom. “Shower time.” He swats my behind as I pad towards the bathroom.

I laugh, glancing over my shoulder at him, feeling the warmth of his touch linger. “So bossy this morning,” I tease, shutting the door behind me.

The hot water soothes the nerves in my stomach, the excitement of the day coming alive with every passing second.

I wear the dress Lisa and I bought specifically for this day. It’s a deep emerald green, off the shoulder dress, that matches the color scheme of the Army Base Riviera.

I style my hair to fall in soft waves around my shoulders, then I finish off with my makeup.

The trouble I took is worth it, judging by Andrew’s reaction. His eyes widen and rake over me appreciatively, then he whistles.

“You are beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you,” I say, pleasure spreading through me. “Not too bad yourself.”

He’s dressed in a perfectly fitting tailored suit that makes him look every inch the successful business man that I’ve fallen in love with.

He laughs, holding out his arm as we leave for the hotel, fingers intertwined as we settle into the car.

The drive is quiet, both of us lost in the excitement buzzing between us. When we pull up to the Army Base Riviera, the energy outside the hotel is electric.

Banners line the walkway, and floral arrangements in rich greens and whites adorn the entrance.

I clasp my hands together. “It looks perfect.” I can’t help but wish that my father was awake to see this. His beloved Army Base Riviera returned to its former glory.

“Not as perfect as you are,” Andrew says.

A twinge of guilt goes through me. “No one’s perfect Andrew,” I say. “We all have our faults.”

Before he can say anything, the driver opens my door. Gathering my dress, I step out to camera flashes.

The press moves in around us, cameras flashing as they take pictures of Andrew and me together, the crowd shifting as questions come our way.

We field each one, sharing stories about the renovation process, the history of the Riviera, and what inspired the modern, understated elegance we chose.

Andrew keeps his hand on my back, and every so often, he runs his fingers along my spine.

Finally, we’re able to get away and make our way into the lobby.

Andrew’s family is among the first to greet us. His father, who’s usually reserved, extends a hand and shakes mine firmly, his face breaking into a rare smile. “You both did a fantastic job,” he says.

Barbara beams, pulling me into a hug. “You should be so proud,” she whispers, a hint of emotion in her voice.

Waiters glide between groups with trays of champagne and hors d’oeuvres, pausing now and then as guests reach for glasses and tiny plates.

I spot Lisa and wave her over; she’s dressed in a sleek red dress, her usual spark lighting up her face as she pulls me aside.

“This place is stunning, Emily,” she says, surveying the bustling lobby. “You and Andrew really brought it to life.”

“Thank you,” I say, smiling. “It’s surreal seeing everyone here.”

---