Page 1 of Accidentally Marrying the Best Man
Chapter 1
CHARLOTTE
Ibrush my hand over the flowing skirt of my wedding dress and marvel at how light it is. My reflection in the full-length mirror shows an amazing gown that pairs a structured, silk Mikado corset with a floor-length, silk mousseline skirt. I never thought I’d get married, and this ceremony is about doing a favor for a friend, not committing to forever after with a soulmate. And yet, I spent more money than I should on the dress. It’s inspired by a design from Elie Saab’s website. The celebrity-favored designer charges around fifteen thousand dollars for the lower end of her collection, and as much as I love quality fashion, even I think that’s too much to shell out for a dress I’ll only wear once.
All I need now is a groom, but my childhood friend, who begged me to marry him, is suspiciously absent.
And very late.
I’ve been waiting in the vestry of the small wedding chapel for a while. But maybe that’s not the right word to call this space, since the venue is not religious. I guess it’s more like a lounge or a waiting room. Bride’s room? But that implies that I should have a bevy of girlfriends in here, getting ready with me. And I’m here alone.
Maybe a green room?
Anxiety creates ruminating thoughts in my head, so I shut that thread down, but this wedding is definitely a performance. So, calling this space a green room feels right, like where actors wait before going on stage or on camera. Except, the sunlight shining through the small room’s stained glass windows paints the floor and the walls in all the colors of the rainbow. Not just green. Okay, my mind is off on a tangent again, and I need to shut that down.
The minute hand on the analogue wall-clock ticks forward one mark. Jay is now officially an hour late, and he’s not answering calls or texts.
I study my reflection again, stubbornly refusing to think about what could have happened to my friend. Thick braided straps and trim detail the corset frame and neckline of my dress like hand-drawn contours, lending me a badass Game-of-Thrones-like warrior vibe. But the soft, gauzy volume of the skirt reflects how my insides feel right now. All empty and airy. I don’t know how to fill them because that forces me to confront that either something horrible has happened to Jay. Or, I’m such a loser that I got stood up for a marriage of convenience.
One thatthe groombeggedmeto agree to.
Jay and I grew up together. His home served as the sanctuary where I hid from my dad’s heavy fists and my mom’s manipulative mind games. Jay and his twin brother were raised by their grandmother, who had a heart so filled with love that there was enough for her grandsons and me, the dirty, half-starved girl from the wrong side of town. Jay is more than just a friend. He’s the brother of my heart.
A month ago, Jay found out that his grandmother’s will stipulates that he has to get married before he turns thirty, or lose his inheritance, He begged me to do him this favor so hecould keep the bar he’s run for most of his adult life. Of course I said yes.
And then I was stupid enough to create a situation where I also need this wedding to actually happen.
I press my forehead to the frosted window. I can’t see the winter landscape on the other side through the colored glass, but the icy surface helps calm my racing thoughts. Practicing some deep breathing, I imagine I’m somewhere else. Anywhere else, Maui, Costco, dental surgery. It doesn’t work, so I curse my miserable life and my stupid superpower of self-sabotage.
A doorknob rattles. I spin around, expecting Jay in all panicked glory, but when the door cracks open, his twin brother slips through instead.
When they were younger, people said the boys looked exactly the same, but I could always tell them apart. And now, as grown men, it’s even easier.
Nick King is all sharp angles and planes, while Jay’s features are softer and more likely to crack a smile.
Right now, Nick’s square jawline is more prominent than usual because he’s clenching it so hard, I’m worried he’ll crack a tooth.
In his best-man outfit—a dark maroon tailored suit made of an expensive material that shimmers in the winter light—he looks like he belongs in a movie. A historical drama where everyone is heartbreakingly beautiful, never says what they mean, but their eyes glow with intense repressed emotion.
“Charlotte.” Like always, his deep voice brushes against my skin like warm velvet, heating my lady parts in ways I’ve tried to suppress since puberty. I take a deep breath, willing my hormones to stand down. I’m here to marry the groom, not ogle the best man.
Nick’s amber eyes radiate anger and frustration, and as he lays eyes on me, his gaze heats even more. Before I can interpretwhat ratcheted up his mood, he blinks and his features return to the calm control they usually display.
He shoves his hands in his pockets, not meeting my eyes, mouth working around words like he’s chewing on the inside of his cheek. “I—uh?—”
I hold up a hand. “Let me guess. Jay got hit by a Vespa. He’s in the hospital, but he’s okay and will be here shortly.” I picked the lightest vehicle I could think of because I don’t know what I would do if my friend were seriously hurt.
Nick blinks and frowns. “Not a Vespa. Just... not here. Yet. He’s, um, missing.”
I bark out a brittle laugh that turns into a hiccup.
Nick takes a step toward me, reaching out with his hand, but then he drops it. “Charlotte, I’m really sorry. I’ve called his cell—six times. He’s not picking up. He was here, but kept—” he runs a hand through his dark hair, making the cowlick he always tries to tame stand up. My hands itch to flatten it. “Anyway,” he continues. “I told him to take a walk, and now he’s completely disappeared.”
“Well, this is a plot twist,” I mutter. “He asked—no begged—me to marry him. And now he’s the one standing me up.” My knees wobble, and I dump my butt onto the edge of the chair next to the mirror, careful not to wrinkle the skirt. “But now I need him to go through with this, or I’m going to look like the biggest fool, and probably lose my job.”
Nick’s face flickers between concern and confusion. “I don’t understand. You didn’t want to marry him? He had to beg you?” He shakes his head. “Why would you lose your job?”
I study the diamond on the engagement ring I bought for myself. It’s a two-carat, square, Asscher-cut stone, surrounded by smaller blue sapphires. All of that bauble-glory is set on a braided platinum band. One more thing I spent too much moneyon, but I wanted the people at work to think that my fiancé spoiled me. Cherished me.
