19. It Takes Two
19
IT TAKES TWO
KEATON
The air conditioning could not prevent me from sweating. Wearing Ben’s tux, that didn’t quite fit despite quick altering, I paced in the staging area marked off for the Groom and groomsmen. The pre-wedding chaos was in full swing. Cameras ready. Lights glaring. Melanie screeched about floral centerpieces that were blocking the camera views.
Filming had taken place all day, as she worked hard to spin this new show direction toward my surprise wedding. The crew and cast shot extra scenes that would set up the demise of Vanessa and Ben’s relationship, and make way for the blooming romance between me and Sophie.
More drama unfolded when Cassandra found out we were getting married instead of the original couple. She called me out for sexting her, claiming I lead her on and let her down. She ripped a bridal gown to shreds. Whatever she and Melanie could cook up for extra drama, they made it work. Then Starla finally resurfaced and tried flirting with the actor portraying the officiant.
I doubted if she was even pregnant. Who knew what to believe anymore? I’d seen enough of all of them for one lifetime, and we hadn’t even started the ceremony.
Vanessa and Ben split. People saw them leaving the hotel separately. Yet there were reports of them flying out on a private jet at the airport together. Many reconciliation rumors swirled. But they must have decided it was too late to take the spotlight back.
So here I sat. Contracts all signed with the producers, basically giving my life over to them and this marriage for ninety days. Ten minutes to showtime, sweating in this suit and thinking about my bride to be, trying not to lose my mind. The payoff at the end of all of this had better be worth it.
Anthony arrived, my only groomsman, holding two beer cans. “Take your pick. It’s your day. It Takes Two Brew or the Happy Couple?”
I snorted and popped the tab on the It Takes Two Brew. Because Sophie and I would need to work together to see this through.
“Bold choice. You okay, man?” He asked, clapping me on the back.
“Just Peachy,” I said, guzzling it down.
“Sure you wanna go through with this?”
Did I? Hell if I knew. The cameras were everywhere, and Sophie was probably being pinned into something white and stunning about now, while producers gloated about ratings and last-minute shot lists.
All I knew was... I wanted her, and that scared the hell out of me. Wanting Sophie wasn’t part of the plan. The plan for this weekend was: stay far away from the crazy people, have fun with Sophie, show off my brews. But she had this way of unraveling all of my best intentions with just one look.
She wanted this wedding for me. She’d benefit from it, too. A part of me wanted to see her succeed as well. A huge part of me definitely wouldn’t mind having her in my bed for ninety days. Then whatever might happen after that remained a mystery.
I couldn’t tell Anthony a thing, sworn to secrecy through our nondisclosure agreement, so I did the next best thing. I lied. Which I’d have to get used to doing for the near future.
“Go through with this? Hell, yeah, I do. Have you seen Sophie? She’s gorgeous and smart. Creative and funny. We get along better than any woman I’ve ever been with.” None of that was a lie. “Of course I want to marry her.”
“Glad to hear it.” He gulped down the Happy Couple Ale. “How the fuck did we get wrangled into the show in the first place?”
“You seem to have made out well with Cassandra,” I snorted.
“Look, I’m sorry if I took her from you. If I’d known you were texting her…”
Funny how time and Sophie took away any desire I once held for Cassandra. “No need to apologize. Just hope you’ll be happy with her.”
“She’s a handful.”
“You’re the right man for the job to tame her,” I quipped. I didn’t really think he was, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.
I ran a finger between my neck and shirt. The music started. A crew member stopped by to get us and take us to our places.
“Showtime.” Anthony patted my back and took the beer out of my hands.
Up at the altar, sweat gathered at the back of my neck. The desert air cooled off only slightly at dusk, but the nerves? Full blaze. I tried to breathe through the surreal feeling, standing there in front of half-drunk reality stars and too many camera lenses, about to say vows to a woman who could easily make me forget they were supposed to be fake if I let her.
Unless she didn’t show up. The genuine possibility she’d come to her senses and run wrecked me. Until she appeared.
I saw her face. And her gown. My heart squeezed at the perfect image of the woman who was about to become Mrs. Keaton Kingston.
Sophie walked down the aisle like she owned the damn place, with her head held high despite the snickers from catty women as she passed them by.
Soft tendrils fell around her face from her updo like a breeze had kissed her. A white satin dress hugged her slender body, simple string-like straps holding it in place by the shoulders, leaving nothing to the imagination. She held a simple bouquet of lilies at her midsection.
The minute her eyes landed on me, everyone else disappeared. Even the cameras. I forgot to breath, and I almost forgot what we were doing there.
When she reached the front, I stepped forward, offering my hand as she took the steps. She faltered and reached a hand up to my face. She caressed along my smooth jawline with a horrified look, and she whispered, “What did you do?”
“Oh that? I shaved off my beard. If I’m getting married, then I’m going all the way. Had to present a polished image in this tux.”
“But—but your beautiful beard? That’s part of your brand?—”
“Relax, Soph, it’ll grow back. Don’t tell me you don’t like me now without it?”
“Oh, I like it. It’s hard to say which version of my handsome, I mean husband, I like more,” she giggled under her breath nervously.
I grinned at the way she admired me. “Not your husband yet. We have to get through this first. Don’t jinx it. Nervous?”
“I was until I saw you standing here waiting for me.”
“I was, too, until I saw you gracing the aisle.” Seeing her calmed me. This may be the craziest thing I’d ever done, but at least we were jumping in together. “Hey, beautiful. Let’s get married.”
The officiant cleared his throat and started. He spoke about love and commitment, and legally binding gibberish. All pretend. He knew it, and we knew it. I stole glances at the cast and some of the other people there I didn’t even recognize. They all bought that it was an actual wedding.
Sophie’s hands squeezed mine. I gazed at our connection, the way our hands joined, melting into each other so I couldn’t tell where I ended and she began. One thought stung me more than anything else this weekend— What if I wanted this to be real?
I shoved it aside. Buried it under the reminder that this was temporary. We had a contract. A shelf life of ninety days. Nothing more.
She leaned closer as the officiant asked for the rings. “Last chance to back out, brewmaster.”
“And miss out on calling you my wife for a while? No backing out now.” I adored the way her cheeks bloomed pink. Because that’s what a groom would probably do.
We exchanged rings, and I watched her face light up upon viewing the ring I bought for her. The studio had a jeweler visit me over lunch where I made my selection. Sliding it on her finger, I made the right choice. Simple platinum band, with an ethically lab-grown diamond in a marquis shape. It looked stunning on her.
Wait. Were those tears in the corners of her eyes? I choked up myself. I knew it, today was a mistake.
“Oh, Soph…” I couldn’t stand to see her so sad. We were doing this for all the wrong reasons, and I felt like a total asshole for even allowing things to get so out of control. I reached up, cupped her cheeks, and dabbed at them for her with my thumbs. “If you ran away now, I wouldn’t blame you.”
“But you would chase after me if I did, wouldn’t you?” Her glossy golden brown eyes searched mine for reassurance.
No question. “Hell yes, I would.”
She winked and recovered, smiling again. “That’s all I need to know.” She took my ring from the officiant and, after squeezing the simple platinum band over my knuckle, she teased. “Almost official. Get ready for that kiss.”
“Believe me, I got it covered.” These little things we said to each other throughout were more memorable than anything else.
We repeated vows from the officiant, both of us opting not to create our own, to Melanie’s horror, but she’d get over it.
Then it finally came time, and the officiant pronounced us husband and wife.
Husband and wife.
We actually did this thing.
“Ready for this?” I gathered her in my arms, lips poised to claim.
“Better make it convincing,” she teased. I made sure not to disappoint.Soft at first, then passionate, dipping her with just enough steam to make Melanie happy. Not that I cared about her. Ours was an epic kiss to beat out all others across history and time.
I swung Sophie’s hand in mine high above our heads like we were champs for surviving this ordeal without snapping.
Music blasted, and cheers followed us back down the aisle. Melanie signaled to the crew that the take was finished. And the entire thing was finally over.
The only reason I made it through was because I could stare into Sophie’s sweet face the entire time, her smile radiant, her grip strong and sure in mine.
We walked back down the aisle like we belonged to each other—for now. As she glanced up at me, mischief in her eyes and that soft curve to her lips that always undid me, I didn’t regret saying I do one bit.