Page 9 of Claiming the Fake Boyfriend
The next half hour passes in a blur of organization… Lining up the wedding party, adjusting Mia's train, and finally taking my place at the front as the string quartet begins playing. I scan the crowd during my walk down the aisle, momentarily freezing when I spot Cameron four rows back, his perfectly styled hair and designer suit making him look like he stepped out of a catalog. He gives me a small, awkward nod.
I focus straight ahead, refusing to let him rattle me. But as I take my place, my eyes find Tucker in the third row. He winks, and just like that, my nerves settle.
Mia is radiant as she glides down the aisle on her father's arm. The ceremony is intimate, heartfelt, with just enough personal touches to make it uniquely theirs.
As the couple exchanges vows, promising forever with voices full of certainty, I feel a familiar ache beneath my ribs.
Then, somehow, Tucker is beside me. The ceremony has ended, guests are mingling, and he's materialized at my side as if sensing my momentary melancholy.
"You okay?" he asks quietly, his hand finding the small of my back.
"Just wedding emotions," I dismiss with a smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes.
He studies me for a moment, then takes my hand, his fingers lacing through mine with unexpected gentleness. "Come on. Let's get you a real drink before you have to pose for eight hundred photos."
The cocktail hour unfolds on the riverbank, where market lights now glow against the deepening blue sky. A jazz quartet plays softly while servers circulate with trays of autumn-inspired hors d'oeuvres. Tucker stays close, his hand rarely leaving mine or my waist, creating a bubble of warmth I'm reluctant to step out of.
"Amber." A familiar voice breaks through our conversation with Tucker's brewery manager. I turn to find Cameron standing there, looking uncomfortable but determined. "You look lovely."
"Cameron," I manage a polite smile. "Thank you. You remember Tucker Hughes?"
"Of course." Cameron extends his hand, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Your beer is excellent."
"Appreciate that." Tucker shakes his hand, then smoothly slides his arm around my waist, pulling me closer to his side. The move is subtle but unmistakably possessive.
"I didn't realize you two were..." Cameron trails off, looking between us.
"Dating? Yeah." Tucker's voice is casual but firm. "Lucky me."
An awkward silence falls. I clear my throat. "How's Sasha?"
Cameron shifts his weight. "She's good. Couldn't make it today, teaching a workshop in Asheville."
"Send her my best," I say, surprising myself with how little I feel. Six months ago, the mention of the woman he left me for would have shattered me. Now, with Tucker's solid presence beside me, it barely registers.
After Cameron excuses himself, Tucker leans down to murmur in my ear. "You okay?"
"Surprisingly, yes." I look up at him, suddenly aware of how close we're standing. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"Being here. Making this easier."
His expression softens. "Anytime."
Before I can respond, the wedding photographer corrals the bridal party for photos, and I'm swept away into bridesmaid duties again. For the next hour, I pose and smile and adjust Mia's train, all while acutely aware of Tucker's eyes following me around the reception area.
When I finally get a moment to breathe, I find myself by the river's edge, watching the last light of day shimmer on the water. The temperature has dropped with the sun, and I rub my bare arms, wishing I'd thought to bring a wrap.
"Cold?"
I turn to find Tucker approaching, two glasses of amber liquid in hand.
"A little," I admit. "But it's beautiful out here."
Without hesitation, he sets down the drinks and shrugs out of his suit jacket, draping it around my shoulders. The fabric is warm from his body, enveloping me in his scent.
"Better?" he asks, retrieving our drinks.
