Page 28 of Insta-Hubby
Liam hops off the bed, butt-naked, and strides over to me.
“Here, allow me then,” he says, grabbing the bucket and making his way over to the door.
“Oh my god, what are you doing!” I laugh as he starts for the doorknob.
“You really think I’d go out there in the nude?” he says, smiling back at me.
“Let me just borrow your slippers,” I say, sliding my feet into the fluffy white slippers he’d packed from home in his overnight bag.
“Don’t be long, honey,” he says, plopping back onto the bed and putting his hands behind his head.
I swallow thickly, looking back at him, and make my way out into the hall.
And I can’t stop smiling.
He said I washis.
And I know it’s not for pretend.
It isn’t.
It is very real.
I flop my way down the hall in the too-big slippers, finally getting to the end of the hall where they have the ice machine and vending machines.
Fancy hotel or cheapo hotel, both have the same snacks and the same old ice machine.
As I’m filling up my bucket and surveying my snack choices, I can’t help but feel that something is missing.
And I know what it is.
What’s missing is me telling Liam how I feel. He’s made it clear how he feels, but all I’ve really done so far is just go along with what he’s said. It feels good and it feels right and I know it’s what I want, so I have to make it all complete and tell him backexactlyhow I feel.
I can’t take his money. I don’t want to pretend to be his girlfriend.
I don’t want to pretend anything anymore. I don’t want to be the picture-perfect fake bride anymore. I want to really be his. And I want to tell him all of it.
Once the ice bucket is full, I grab it and balance it against my hip. Now, do I want something sweet or something salty to eat?
As I’m about to settle on chocolate covered pretzels, I hear someone coming down the hall. I turn to my left to see another girl, about my age, coming toward me.
“Hey,” I say meekly. “Are you here for the Harmon wedding?”
“I am,” she says, smiling at me. “You’re here with Liam, aren’t you?”
“Oh, yes I am,” I say, turning to face her. “I’m Anna. It’s nice to meet you.”
She looks at me strangely, with a sidelong glance, her eyes slightly narrowed.
“Nice to meet you too,” she says, “but I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
“Oh?” I say, my stomach flipping over. “I don’t know. I don’t think so. What was your name again?”
“It’s Samantha,” she says. “I’m an old friend of Liam’s cousin. But are you sure we don’t know each other? You just look so familiar. Are you sure I don’t know you from somewhere?”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” I say, my pulse beginning to speed up.
I really don’t recognize her, but it’s definitely possible that she’s seen me before. Maybe on the shop’s website.
