Page 54 of Their Greatest Strength

I rest my cheek against the back of the couch and nod. “Have fun, Jamie. I’m good here.”

He furrows his brows, not looking as though he believes a word I’m saying. His watch pings, and he sighs while reading the notification that appears.

The depth in his brown eyes is staggering when they flick up from the watch. “The fridge is full. If you need anything, I’ll have my phone on me. The ceremony is only an hour, and then?—”

“I’m more than capable of taking care of myself, Jamie,” I interrupt before he can go full caregiver on me.

After Nate’s and my first night here, I thought Jamie wouldrelax a bit, but if anything, he’s growing more anxious. Like he’s scared I’m going to decide I’m not happy here and take off. At least before the wedding.

There’s a lot of trust in this agreement on both sides. I’m trusting that he’s not going to turn into an absolute psycho, and he’s trusting that I’m not going to be a runaway bride and jeopardize his entire career.

He blows out a long breath. “I know you are. I’m just . . . You’re my friend, and I want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

You’re my friend.

I squeeze his hand, letting those words sink in. “Go. Send me a picture of you dancing later.”

“So you can imagine you’re there with me?” he teases, his grin crooked.

“Obviously.”

Laughing loosely, he plants a kiss on my head and stands. The shoulders of his suit jacket pull taut when he rolls them and starts backing out of the room.

“The first time we dance together at a wedding, it’ll be ours, Bandit.”

“Guess I should warn you that I’m a terrible dancer, then.”

“Even better. I’ve got two left feet.”

I roll my lips before saying, “Don’t be late for your brother’s wedding. Go.”

“Take a nap in my bed.”

“I don’t nap.”

“Have you ever just tried doing it?”

He’s nearly out of sight when I flip him off.

“Only as many times as you’ve tried telling yourself not to stare into the mirror every time you pass one.”

His smirk is the last thing I see.

“Touché, baby. Touché.”

JAMIE

Oliver’s possibly the chillest groom in history.

He’s as focused as I am on game day. The only time his calm exterior shook was when Mom came into the dressing room sobbing. She buried her face in his chest and cried long enough that my dad had to come and soothe her.

I took over when Dad moved to Oliver and pulled him in for a hug with softly spoken words exchanged between them. All I caught was a simpleI’m proud of you.

Mom’s walking down the aisle with Oliver now, their arms linked and her hand gripping him tight.

I’m a step behind with little Nova, the maid of honour, watching as my big brother kisses Mom on the cheek and takes his spot at the altar.

He’s standing tall and proud, not the least bothered by the eyes on him for the first time in his life. While he never loved attention growing up and straight up detested it in his adulthood, right now, I know he’s not paying a single person around him any attention.

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