Page 144 of Play Fake
Claire wasstunning. I mean, she’s always beautiful—but today, she was radiant. Her lace gown hugged her perfectly, the delicate train trailing behind her like a whisper. Her hair was swept up into a soft bun with tiny pearl pins tucked throughout, and when she walked down the aisle on our dad’s arm, the entire crowd audibly gasped.
Even I did.
I spent most of the ceremony blinking back tears. Not the ugly kind, but the kind that settles in your chest when you realize a moment is going to stick with you forever.
And so far, I’ve successfully avoided both my parents’ awkward questions and Zach’s family. It’s taken a few well-timed bathroom trips, some strategic conversations with relatives I actually like, and a lot of sticking close to Ava.
Now the ceremony’s over, cocktail hour is winding down, and the reception tent is glowing with soft light. Long tables are decorated with greenery runners, candles, and delicate gold accents. Claire didn’t want a designated “wedding party table.” Instead, she scattered us throughout the room, wanting us to be with the people who mattered most to us.
Which is why I’m sitting at a round table near the dance floor. Ava’s to my left, already halfway through a glass of champagne and eyeing the appetizer trays like a hawk. To my right is an empty chair—the one meant for Beck.
I smooth my dress over my thighs, nerves buzzing under my skin in a way that has nothing to do with Zach or my parents. He’s coming. He said he’d make it as soon as the game ended.
Ava nudges me. “Stop checking the door every five seconds,” she whispers.
“I’m not,” I whisper back.
She gives me a look.
Okay, maybe I am.
Just as I’m taking a sip of champagne, a voice I’d hoped not to hear slides up behind me.
“Is this seat taken?”
I freeze for half a second before turning. Zach stands there in his suit, hands shoved into his pockets like he owns the place. He gestures to the empty chair beside me, his smile smooth in that practiced, empty way I used to mistake for charming.
“Yes,” I say evenly. “And not by you.”
His jaw ticks, just slightly, before the smile returns. “Doesn’t look like lover boy is coming. Kinda seems like you got stood up, Soph.”
A dozen retorts rise in my throat, but none of them stick. Instead, something settles inside me.
Beck would never.
Zach shifts his weight like he’s about to say something else, but a low, familiar voice behind me cuts through everything.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
My heart stutters.
I turn, and there he is. Beck. Freshly showered, dressed in a dark tux that fits himwaytoo well, hair slightly damp, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Before Zach can even process it, Beck leans down, tips my chin up gently, and kisses me.
When he pulls back, he murmurs against my forehead, “Sorry I’m a little late.”
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. “You’re right on time.”
Beck straightens and gives Zach a cool, unreadable once-over that says everything without a single word.
Zach’s forced smile falters.
Beck slides into the empty seat beside me, his hand resting casually on the back of my chair. The energy shifts in an instant, from uncomfortable to safe.
Zach lingers for half a heartbeat too long before muttering something under his breath and walking away.
I exhale slowly, and Ava leans toward me with a grin that’s about to split her face. “God, I love a good entrance.”
