Page 3 of Accidentally Marrying the Best Man
“But your law firm specializes in family law, mostly divorces.” Nick frowns.
“Yup.” I pop the last letter.
“Do they not see the irony in this?”
“Nope.” Another pop.
“Fuck, Charlotte. You’ve worked harder than anyone at the firm. You deserve that seat.”
I nod. I’ve worked my ass off.
Nobody comes close to the number of billable hours I’ve racked up in the last year, managing partners included.
Nick stands and paces the room. There’s more sighing, more face rubbing, and a lot of muttering under his breath.
I hear Jay’s name a few times, and I think the word asshole is uttered more than once, but I can’t make out anything else.
He stops mid-step and turns around, facing me. “I don’t know what the fuck Jay will do about grandma’s will and the bar, but I can solve your problem.”
I straighten in the chair. “You can?” Hope blooms in my chest. Nick is a born problem-solver. I have faith in him, but how’s he going to convince the firm to name the first unmarried partner ever?
“I’ll marry you.”
The words land so heavily between us, my mind hears a thud as if they landed on the floor. I inhale sharply as I stare at Nick.Is he on drugs?
“But I can’t marry you,” my voice squeaks out, and anxiety—or, maybe panic—makes my leg twitch, hard, and repeatedly.
As the staccato pitch my white satin shoe taps against the floor increases, Nick drops more thudding phrases. “You can. And you will.”
Chapter 2
NICK
Charlotte stares at me, open-mouthed, and there’s a weird knocking sound in the room. At first I think it’s my brain knocking against the skull, because what the fuck just came out of my mouth? But then I realize it’s Charlotte’s foot, tapping against the floor.
I smile at the familiar sign of her anxiety. She’s always pretended to be tough—with parents like hers, she had to in order to survive—but the nervous tick of that twitching foot always gives her away. I can’t actually see her foot. It’s hidden under the gauzy skirt of her wedding dress.Fuck, she’s beautiful.
She took my breath away when I walked into the room. The first thing I noticed was that bustier-thingie top that does wonderful things to her breasts.
Hey, I’m a guy. Boobs are always going to be major points of interest.
But it’s more than that. The dress makes her look ethereal, like a fairy warrior princess. And yes, I can’t believe I’m even thinking those frilly words. She’s got me completely discombobulated.
Jay’s a fucking idiot for jilting her. But also, what the fuck is going on?
This is Charlotte, the ravenous kid with skinned knees and dirty hair who shadowed Jay and me when we were younger. She’s been around all my life, but suddenly, it’s like I don’t know her at all. And my body is reacting to her in ways it’s never done before. My dick is harder than marble, and my mouth blurts out things like,I’ll marry you.
She pulls in a deep breath and stops tapping her foot. “I’m losing it,” she says with a nervous laugh. “I thought you said I’m going to marry you.”
I grip the back of my neck and squeeze. “Yeah, that’s what’s going to happen.” This is bonkers, but also, it feels so right. Somehow, the universe has given me an opportunity I can’t squander. And I’m going to grab on to it with both hands. I want to grab on to her, Charlotte, right now. I shove my hands in my jacket pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“You sound awfully confident about that.” Her makeup is a mess, but she’s still beautiful. The weak winter light that filters through the windows highlights rose-gold streaks in her auburn hair.
Grandmother used to call her Aud, because she thought she looked like Audrey Hepburn. And with her hair up, Charlotte looks a lot like theBreakfast at Tiffany’smovie star. She has the same delicate heart-shaped face. The same elegant, long neck. And similar big, brown eyes, although Charlotte’s are rimmed with runny black makeup and they narrow as she studies me.
“Uh,” I say, when I realize I haven’t addressed her comment. I guess I sounded like an asshole, ordering her to marry me. She arches an eyebrow. “It’s the right thing to do,” I add.
She blinks and then looks away. Something in her expression makes my chest tighten. “Look, I’m fine. Devastated, obviously, but in that shallow way where I’m mostly concerned about how much I spent on this dress.”
