Chapter 12 #2
“No, I’m picking our wedding bands up from the jewelers’ tomorrow.
” He gives me the box, and my fingers shake a little, which is weird, because he’s clearly not proposing.
Nobody’s down on one knee, and he never asked for my hand in marriage.
This is all just pretend. A means to an end, not real.
So why are butterflies swarming my stomach?
“It’s just something else I worked out for us today,” he says.
I pop the top of the box open, and inside is a key.
“We agreed to live together.” He keeps his focus on the box. “So I hope you don’t mind, but I found a place for us this afternoon. And I went ahead and signed the lease just in case.”
“But why?” I swallow. “We already have two places.”
“We do.” His gaze comes to mine. “But they both only have one bedroom. And I’m a team player, but I’m also not a small guy. My back isn’t built for sleeping on the couch for months.”
Months.
Dex claps him on the back. “That’s just smart, man. But you’re playing kind of fast and loose with Operation Fool Margaret. Our plan is on a napkin. In ink. And we said nothing about you renting a love nest.”
Love nest?
“The napkin doesn’t care, Dex,” Sayla says. “But how long is the lease, exactly?”
“I had to commit to a year,” Bridger says before turning to me. “But that should be more time than we actually need to convince my mom that we’re official. Once she eases up, we can too.”
He says all this matter-of-factly, as if he isn’t talking about us sharing a home as man and wife.
Meanwhile, as the future wife in this scenario, I’m having an out-of-body experience.
Not discussing timelines beforehand seems like a ludicrous oversight now.
Then again, Operation Fool Margaret wasn’t something we took a long time hatching.
Just ask our napkin.
“So where’s the apartment?” Dex asks. “Near us?”
“It’s not exactly an apartment.” Bridger rubs the scruff of his eleven o’clock shadow. “To prove that we’re embracing the Adams family lifestyle, we need to play the part. And that means a … substantial house.”
“How substantial?” I ask. “Like, a mansion?”
His stoic silence makes my stomach swoop.
“Dude.” Dex smirks. “Is it a palace? A castle? Come on, man. Give us a hint.”
Bridger ignores the prodding, checks his watch, then turns back to me. “It’s getting late and neither one of us got much sleep last night.” He reaches for my arm. “Can I walk you to your car?”
“Not so fast.” Dex throws up a hand to block us. “We need one more pic before we go to really send a message to Mrs. Bridger’s Mom.”
“Excuse me,” Sayla interjects. “I took a million pictures in every position possible. I didn’t miss a thing.”
“Yeah, you did.” Dex shoots a glance at Bridger, and his mouth goes crooked.
My heart skitters in my chest.
Oh no. I have an idea what’s—
“We need a kiss shot,” Dex quips. “You know. Like a kill shot. Except with lips.”
“Dexter Michaels.” Sayla frowns. “Your friend is trying to be a gentleman, and you aren't helping.”
“I’m helping in the best possible way,” Dex says. “Bridger’s mom isn’t stupid. She’s not gonna be convinced by pictures of you two throwing darts.” Dex glances at me. “Face facts. We can’t leave here until you two mash mouths.”
“Oh, come on.” Sayla groans. “I’m sorry, Loren. I married a teenager.”
“No, you married a genius who’s saving this plan,” Dex insists.
My ribs suddenly feel too tight, so I draw in a gust of air then peek at Bridger. His eyes are already on me, and something ripples across them. Like he’s processing our options.
Then he blinks. A decision made.
“Dex is right,” he says. “But we can make this quick. And only if you agree.”
I exhale, and for a moment, we both stand there frozen, until I realize he’ll never make the first move. Sayla called it. He’s a gentleman through and through.
So I take a small step toward him, then another. “I trust you,” I say. He reaches for me tentatively, settling his hands on my hips. As his palms encircle me, I tip my chin up, close my eyes, and part my lips just enough so I can breathe.
Am I still breathing?
His fingers tighten. Like he’s holding himself back. And then … his warm mouth grazes mine.
At the first whisper of contact, white-hot sparks ricochet through my body, and I pull back with a gasp, quickly tucking my hair behind my ears.
Whoa.
What was that?
“What was that?!” Dex snarks. “The judges give you two out of ten!”
Sayla frowns, checking her phone. “No one asked you for a score.”
Also? That did not feel like a two out of ten to me.
“You guys looked like you barely know each other.” Dex shakes his head. “If I may offer some notes—”
“No notes,” Bridger grits out.
“Oh, no,” Sayla groans.
“What?” I blurt.
“I’m so sorry, friends, but the shot came out blurry. I think you need to kiss again. Maybe a little slower this time?”
“Nah. Slower won’t work.” Dex smirks. “Another still shot like that won’t be nearly romantic enough for our purposes.”
“Our purposes?” Sayla rolls her eyes. “All right, genius. What do you suggest?”
We all turn toward Dex, and he grins. “We’re gonna need a video.”