Page 69 of Britta & the Beach Boy
“What?” I blurt out, but at the relieved look on Dad’s face, I bite back my comment about being a grown woman, not a piece of property Dex is looking to take off my dad’s hands.
“That’s unnecessary, son.” Dad pats Dex’s lower back. “It’s Britta’s choice. I trust her.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I push back the lump in my throat, but there’s no stopping the swelling guilt in my gut.
There’s another knock at the door, and Adam, who’s standing closest, opens it to let in Archie and Rhys.
“Good. Everyone’s here,” Archie says. “We’ve got tickets for the venue in two hours, so be ready to go in ninety minutes.” He taps his watch and sets a timer.
“Tickets?” I ask. Who needs tickets for a wedding venue?
“You’re Rhys James,” my sister-in-law, Evie, says in a breathless voice, which elicits a growl from Adam.
Rhys dips his chin in a reluctant nod.
Evie turns to me, still awestruck. “You didn’t tell me Rhys James was going to be here.”
“I had to keep that part a secret. Sorry.” I don’t meet her gaze in case she can see Rhys isn’t the only secret I have to keep.
“He’s performing the ceremony,” Archie says matter-of-factly before checking his watch. “Which is in approximately one hundred and eighteen minutes, so we should let the bride get ready.”
“Yep.” Georgia pushes everyone toward the door, including the three women who can’t stop staring at Rhys. “Let’s go. We’ve only got eighty-seven minutes until it’s time to leave. Everyone be in the lobby at six-thirty… make that six-twenty-five.”
“I’m a good flower girl,” Stella’s four-year-old niece, Charlie, says to me.
I squat down to get eye-to-eye with her. “I know you are! I hope you’ll be mine.”
Charlie throws her pudgy arms around my neck. “Mama bringed my dress.”
I hug her back, and a tiny part of me wishes this were real, like Adam and Zach’s double wedding where Charlie was the flower girl for the first time.
Hope leads Charlie out the door, and in a matter of seconds, I’m alone again with Dex. My fake fiancé. My soon-to-be—in less than two hours—fake husband.
Our eyes meet, and he looks as nervous as I feel.
“If you want to call this off, you can.” He’s five feet away, close to the door, looking ready to run.
“Is that what you want to do?” I hold my breath, waiting for his answer, not sure if I want it to be yes or no.
“No. But I will. I feel awful they think this is… real.”
“Me too,” I say, then let a few seconds of silence settle between us. “But it’s okay. I’m a big girl and I’m making my decision with eyes wide open. It would only hurt them to know the truth, and this marriage is making me happy—just differently than they think.
He nods, then runs his fingers over the patch of stubble on his jawline before shaking his head. “I should shave.”
A grin escapes before I can stop it. “Me too.”
We both laugh, but the awkwardness between us has leveled down to an excited nervousness.
“We can make this work… right?” I’m not sure how that turned into a question instead of a statement.
Dex lifts his shoulders. “We’ve got no reason not to. It’s the best thing for both of us.” Then he points to the bathroom. “You can have it first.”
Eighty minutes later, Dex and I are in the foyer waiting for my family. I’ve got on my green dress, my hair pulled into a loose, but fancy, updo and gold earrings dangling from my ears. This is the most dressed up I’ve been since my brothers got married. I’m pretty sure the same is true for Dex.
He’s got on a button-up shirt, khakis, and real shoes—not flip-flops. They’re black Vans, but still, shoes. He tugs at his collar every few seconds, and I don’t know if it’s because he’s nervous or if it’s because he hates collared shirts.
“Is this a hand-holding situation?” he whispers as the elevator door opens and Dad steps out.
