Page 72 of From Best Friend to Bride
“What are you smiling at?”
I jumped at the sound of Fred’s voice. He was wearing checkered pyjama bottoms and nothing else, and his wet hair dripped water down his toned body.
“Put some clothes on,” I said.
“I have.” He motioned to his bottoms and tossed the towel to one side. “What’s so funny?”
“Oh, I was just looking at the photos our friends uploaded from today. Wanna see?”
He dropped onto his side of the bed and scooted over towards me, beckoning me to turn the screen so he could see. “How many dots of frosting was it?”
“Sixteen,” I replied proudly.
With a shake of his head, he swiped through the carousel of pictures. “Bloody hell, it was fun, wasn’t it?”
I smiled, holding my phone as he navigated through the posts under the stupid hashtag. “Yeah, it was. Kind of shame it was all for show.”
“Mm. Then again, it was probably only that fun because it was you and me.” He sat up, stretching his arms over his head, and yawned. “I’m knackered, though.”
“Tell me about it. It was a long day.” I put my phone down on the bedside table, lay down, and tucked myself under the covers. “Do you think we pulled it off?”
“Well, we’re married, aren’t we?” Fred was still sitting against the headboard, and he looked down at me, smiling as he pushed some of my hair from my eyes. “Not that I think anyone would have said anything even if they suspected it.”
“Yeah, that is the downside. You know, I was almost hoping someone would come rushing in and protest the marriage.”
“Charlotte. You were thinking of Charlotte, weren’t you?”
“I’m just saying,” I said slowly. “Wouldn’t it have been kind of exciting if your ex had burst in screaming, ‘It should have been me!’?”
“No,” Fred replied, staring at me as if I’d lost my mind. “She already texted me six times this week saying she knew I was cheating on her with you.”
“That’s your fault for not blocking her. Did you tell her how repulsive it was to have to kiss me?”
“I hadn’t kissed you at that point.”
“Wow. That’s where you’re supposed to say, ‘Repulsive? There’s nothing repulsive about kissing you, Deli.’”
He gave me a crooked grin. “No comment.”
I shot my foot across the bed and whacked it into his lower leg. “Are you lying down or what? Some of us spent three hours getting their hair and makeup done today. Do you have any idea how exhausting that is?”
“Please accept my condolences.”
“I shall. Thank you.”
Fred laughed as he readjusted himself to lie down. He turned out the light on his side with another yawn—one that was infectious if the way I followed suit was anything to go by.
“Damn it,” I muttered, tugging the sheets up under my chin.
His chuckle was quiet, but the shake of his body made the mattress tremble, and I scooted another couple of inches away from him.
“Night, Fred.”
“Night, wife,” he replied.
I bit back my groan. As if he knew, he chuckled again, this time muffling it with a tug of the covers.
He was such a headache. I was never going to get used to hearing that out of his mouth, and if I ever did, I was in serious need of a psychiatrist because I’d clearly passed the point of insanity and there was no saving me.
