Chapter 17 #2
“Won’t matter once you add music,” he says. “I made a couple mashups specifically for Margaret’s montages.”
“Shhh!” she warns again. “Now, please make yourself useful, and prop open the door for them.”
Dex runs around to deal with the door, while Sayla gives us our final instructions.
“As you step over the threshold,” she tells us, “gaze adoringly into each other's eyes.”
Loren lets out a nervous laugh.
“If it helps, pretend you’re looking at your tacos,” Sayla suggests.
“Mmm, tacos,” Loren hums.
“Yes! Perfect, perfect, perfect,” Sayla exclaims. “You know, you two could totally be models. You are that gorgeous.”
“I feel like a sack of cement,” Loren whispers. “And you’ve been lugging me around forever. Are you absolutely dying?”
“I am not.”
Okay, yes, I am a little bit, just not in the way Loren means.
“Then you must be really strong,” she chuckles, hopefully getting a second wind.
“I do work out more in the summer, but I hardly—”
“Okay, got it!” Sayla calls out. “Cut!”
Loren exhales, sagging in my arms. “Are we really finished?”
“We are.” Sayla grins. "Great job, you two.”
I set Loren down gently, holding on to her for a moment longer than necessary, just to be sure she’s steady on her feet. Not because I’m reluctant to let go.
Mostly.
“If you guys really want to sell the ruse,” Sayla says, “you could take some more candid shots tonight and a few selfies in the morning. Casual pics with no makeup. Bed head. Pajamas. You get the idea. Send everything to me, and I’ll work up some good stuff to send to Margaret.”
I don’t love the word ruse, but I do love the smile that finds Loren's face.
And her bedhead. And pajamas.
“You really are the best,” she tells Sayla.
“Yep.” Dex smirks. “We really are.”
Sayla punches his shoulder lightly. “She was talking to me.”
“I was talking to both of you,” Loren says, her eyes soft. “We can’t thank you enough. Honestly.”
“Well, you are honestly welcome.” Sayla nods toward the open door. “And I hope you two manage to get some sleep tonight.”
At this Dex scoffs. “Forget sleep.” He grins. “Have fun storming the castle!”
After Dex and Sayla leave, I move Loren’s bags into the first-floor suite, where we’d already agreed she’d stay. Then I head to the kitchen, expecting to find her seated at the island, chowing down on tacos like a champ.
But the space is empty, except for lots of marble, and two food-truck bags by the stove.
“Loren?”
She’s not in the library, either, which is the next place I search. My new wife is a book-loving English teacher, after all, and the library here is pretty spectacular, with wall-to-wall books and luxurious furniture. But still no luck.
Stepping out into the enormous hallway, I’m starting to second-guess this place. Sure my mom will be impressed, but I almost feel like I could lose Loren in here. Not literally, but the square footage alone makes me feel like we’re living in two different worlds.
Or planets.
“LOREN!” I call out louder, from the bottom of the grand staircase.
“I’m up here!” Her voice floats past the chandeliers and echoes against the vaulted ceilings. She’s gone to the top floor. So I take the stairs, two at a time, and find her on the balcony off the last suite down the hall.
The room where I stuck my bags.
My foolproof plan was to put as much distance as possible between my wife and me. Less possibility of accidentally running into her in a state of partial undress. I’m pretty sure my eyes would never recover from something like that.
Unfortunately, the vision I’m treated to now doesn’t do my heart any favors, either. My bride is breathtaking in her wedding dress, more beautiful than any sunset.
The horizon in front of her is a stunning wall of brilliant pinks and oranges. And when a breeze picks up her veil, streaks of light filter through the fabric.
You could put a hundred floors between us, and I’d still be in trouble.
I clear my throat, and Loren spins around.
A bright smile breaks across her face.
Even without the tacos, she appears to have gotten some energy back. I can only imagine she’s relieved to be done pretending for Sayla’s pictures and video.
I run a hand over my head, chuckling. “Well, you look … happy.”
“Are you kidding?” Her eyes widen. “I’ve never been inside a place this big. Dex is right. Your house is a castle.”
“It’s our house. Our home, I mean. And I’m glad you like it.”
“Like it? Are you kidding? This place is so incredible, I’m a little …
out of my depth.” She gives her head a shake.
“There’s no way I belong here, but I’m willing to try, if that will help your mom believe we’re a real couple.
” Her laughter rolls through me, even as my stomach clenches.
“So how’s this?” She leans out over the railing and shouts, “I’m the queen of the world! ”
My guts lurch. “Come back inside.”
She peeks over her shoulder, cheeks pink. “Not until Leonardo DiCaprio materializes behind me to hold out my arms.”
I grit my teeth. “Please.”
“Awwww.” She lifts a brow. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Leo.”
“I’m not.”
“Good. Because first of all, he is not that hot. And second, I’m pretty sure at twenty-nine years old, I’ve aged out of his preferred dating age range.”
“Step away from the edge,” I say. “You’re very close.”
“What are you talking about?” She chuckles. “I’m perfectly safe. I’d have to fling myself over this wall and—”
“Stop!”
She freezes, then curiosity slides across her face. “Bridger Adams. Are you … afraid of heights?”
“Maybe. A little,” I grunt.
She moves off the balcony immediately. “I’m so sorry. I was just kidding around. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
My jaw tightens. “I know it’s irrational, scientifically, and all. That’s why it’s categorized as a phobia.”
She tips her head. “We’ve been friends for years. How did I not know this about you?”
“I don’t go around telling everyone,” he says. “Acrophobia—even a mild case—isn’t exactly the manliest trait.”
“I wouldn’t care,” she says softly. “I don't care.”
Of course she doesn’t. Because I’m not her man.
Not for real.
“Either way,” she continues, “we’ve been married all day. You definitely should’ve told me by now.” Her lips quirk, keeping us solidly in friends-teasing-friends mode. “And for the record, I think mild acro-whatever-you-called-it is kind of … cute.”
Cute. Not exactly manly either.
“Acrophobia,” I repeat. “And forgive me for clinging to the fantasy that I’m the kind of husband who’d slay dragons and fight demons for his wife. Not someone who’s afraid to look out a third-story window.”
“Now, Bridger Adams.” She crosses her arms. Like what I’m saying is absurd. “You’ve already done so much more for me than slay dragons. You secured my dad’s entire future.”
“We did that,” I say. “Together.”
“Uh-uh. Nope.” She closes the space between us, her chin tilted up. Insistent. “Havenwood never would’ve happened without you.”
“Yeah, well.” I duck my head. “My pleasure.”
Her mouth slopes sideways. “If you ask me, that’s way hotter than Leonardo DiCaprio.”
I huff a laugh. “I’ll take it.”
Her eyes drift to mine. “Take this,” she says. And before I can brace myself, she goes up on her toes and drops a soft kiss on my chin, marking me in ways she probably doesn’t intend. Then again, there are no camera apps in sight.
Interesting.
For a moment, I hold my breath while she peers at me from under her lashes.
“And on that note,” she begins and my pulse picks up, “I need tacos so badly, I’m not even going to change first.”
“Right. Tacos. Yes. Good.”
Also, don’t ever change.
Please.
My hand flexes as she floats past me toward the hall. And I watch her go, taking my whole heart with her.