Page 37 of Charlie and Her Sweet Escape
I lowered my voice. “You may now legally touch these abs whenever you want.”
She gaped at me and then smacked my stomach with the back of her hand and a quick, surprised laugh. “I swear, Bennett …”
I bent down, giving her plenty of time to back away. One of her hands went to my chest, the other dangling down at her side as our lips touched.
Blood rushed through my ears at the unexpectedly pleasant friction between our mouths. And as her fresh coconut scent hit me, every last bit of oxygen fled my brain. The room disappeared until it was only me and Charlie, time standing still within this kiss.
She quickly pulled away, her cheeks flushed. Everyone cheered and clapped. Distantly, I felt my brothers pounding on my back, shaking my shoulder, saying something to me.
I couldn’t move, frozen in place. Kissing Charlie was nothing like kissing my sister, or worms, or whatever else I’d expected. And that had been barely more than a peck.
What would arealkiss feel like?
14
CHARLIE
Everyone congratulated us as we walked down the church aisle, holding hands. Bennett kept my fingers firmly tucked between his, grounding me as I started to feel like I was floating outside of reality.
Was this what shock felt like? I was married to Bennett Forrester.TheBennett Forrester. As he’d so teasingly stated, I could now touch his abs because I was his wife.
My thoughts were like a word salad—all those words meant something separately, but together, they weren’t computing.
“We need to interview you both,” one of the camerapeople said. “We want to get a shot of you walking out of the church together, and we brought flowers for the guests to toss over your heads. Then we’ll go to the wedding meal, get a few more shots of you two stepping onto the boat for your honeymoon, and our flights leave tomorrow morning.”
I was grateful for their direction, especially since my mind was spinning too fast to land and stay in one spot. Bennett acted like he got married to his little sister’s best friend every day, like he knew exactly what to do in this situation and was comfortable.
I couldn’t stop staring at him—both during the ceremony and now, as we waited just inside the door of the church while our family and friends lined up outside with bunches of flowers.
“Your hair.” I gave in to the urge to run the backs of my fingers across the short beard along his chin. I could see his lips—had felt them just moments ago—but I couldn’t think about that. Not if my knees were going to keep functioning.
“Yeah. I didn’t want to look homeless for our wedding.”
“You didn’t have to cut your hair for me.”
His cheeks pinked in an endearing way. Second time I’d ever seen him blush. This was starting to become a pattern. One I liked very much. “It was time,” he said simply.
“I’m sorry,” I said, for the millionth time in the last four days. “Please don’t resent me for this.” My chest tightened at the thought of him hating me.
He brought his hand behind my neck and pressed me closer to him. The pressure was firm and warm and helped me catch my breath. “I will never regret this.”
The doors opened while we were standing like that, staring at each other, and we spilled out into the cloudy day, holding hands as petals were tossed around us. It felt like a dream.
Greg and I were supposed to have gotten married in his parents’ backyard today, to a string quartet playing Vivaldi. Bennett and I had moved the ceremony to the church, with someone playing “Canon in D” on the organ.
For my original wedding, I had a several-thousand-dollar lace gown—nearly impossible to walk in and a size too small—compliments of Greg’s mom. Instead, I wore my mom’s old wedding dress—slightly yellowed and outdated, but it made me feel closer to her and Dad in a way I hadn’t expected.
Greg’s parents had planned a huge dinner and reception in their backyard for after the wedding. Bennett and I were going toIcy Asps for Italian food and sodas that Bennett’s brothers were paying for.
My ring for Greg was still sitting on my dresser at home, a white-gold band with tiny embedded diamonds resting in a square velvet case. I had asked Bennett if we could skip the ring ceremony. It seemed too much of a lie to exchange rings in addition to vows.
We posed for pictures with our friends and family, and from the corner of my eye, I spottedmovement. Greg leaned against the tree, a thunderous expression on his face as he watched us. I’d both hoped for and dreaded the idea of him bursting into the church to object to our wedding. In my fantasy, he’d fall to his knees, apologize for what he’d tried to do to Molly, and promise to always love me, no matter what. Bennett would graciously step aside, and Greg and I would have the simple wedding I’d wanted all along.
But he hadn’t come. He hadn’t objected.
He hadn’t tried to win me back.
Greg tilted his head and motioned for me to join him. I knew the second Bennett spotted him too, because his hand tightened on mine.
