Page 184 of Faking It With the Small-Town Bad Boy

Now it’s my turn to give him a stern look.

“Sorry, darling. You’re right, I shouldn’t be making light of this

situation. It is sad. A woman ready to get married and ruin Ryan

Jones’s life forever has to endure her wedding day alone. It’s sad; it

really is.”

I shake my head, forcing my lips to frown at this point. “Karma is a

funny thing.”

“Agreed,” the guys all say in different variations.

When the tantrum is over, and her bridesmaids scoop her off the

ground, a man in a suit with an earpiece comes marching into the

tent. He stands nearly seven feet tall, wearing sunglasses on a cloudy

day, and looking like he’s ready to escort the President onto Air Force

One.

“Listen up, staff,” he calls, looking between the paused caterers and

the band. “The wedding has been canceled for the day. Feel free to

take your time packing up, we have a permit to be here until this

evening, so there is no rush in breaking down your supplies. Stop by

the valet station for your check on the way out.”

The guys moan and roll their eyes.

Instead, Percy seems interested. He raises his hand and moves in

closer to the security guard. They talk out of earshot, and I happily

kick off my heels, sitting down to rub my stomach while I and my

brewing baby think about what food we can talk Percy into getting us

on the way home.

Before I can pick between greasy bar food and a hearty burger, Percy

comes rushing back up to me. He gets on his knee, a sight similar to

Ryan’s last plea for love nearly thirty minutes ago.

“What are you doing, Percy?”

“Will you marry me?”

I have to tame myself from looking confused. The sentiment is sweet,

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