24. Gwen
twenty-four
Gwen
Present
Across the street, the marigold lights on the Eiffel Tower sparkle, and the fountains below go off in a spectacular light display for a crowded group of bystanders.
I never thought I’d be staring at the neon lights of the Las Vegas Strip glowing beneath me from one of the most expensive suites in the city, waiting to get married.
How did I get here?
One minute I’m trying to let Lance off the hook, and the next minute I’m wearing his ring and we’re rushing off to Las Vegas to elope.
Panic’s crushing weight presses down on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. Bending at the waist, I place my hands on my knees and focus on taking slow, deep lungfuls of oxygen.
I’m so glad Lance isn’t here to witness my mental breakdown. He left to, in his words, “take care of a few things before the ceremony.”
I didn’t question him. I needed a minute to think.
My plan was simple. Meet him at the donut shop, tell him I changed my mind, and walk away.
Everything is happening so fast, and none of this feels fake.
From the moment I sat down at the table this morning, it was clear Lance had a plan of his own in place, and it wasn’t calling off this crazy arrangement.
He booked a private plane and luxury rooms for us and all his friends, gathered all the information we would need to file for our marriage license online—which we retrieved as soon as we landed—hired a wedding coordinator to organize a small intimate ceremony for us in the hotel, and he had a ring.
An absolutely gorgeous ring that’s way too big and expensive.
What on earth is he trying to do to me?
My cell phone rings in the distance, slicing through my spiraling thoughts. I rush to dig it out of my bag and find my best friend’s name flashing across the screen.
“J-Jenna,” I stutter.
“Gwen? What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong? I’m freaking the fuck out. That’s what’s wrong.”
“I’m going to need you to chill the fuck out and explain,” Jenna says, her voice calm.
We haven’t spoken since yesterday when Lance interrupted our conversation, and to say that today has been a mystifying set of events is putting it mildly.
I fill her in on every detail.
White noise crackles over the line. I pull my cellphone away from my ear to make sure the call is still connected. “Are you still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here,” she mutters.
“Well?” Her speechlessness is freaking me out more.
“I don’t know whether to be impressed or pissed.”
“What?” I hiss.
“I don’t love the idea of you getting married without me, but Gwen, from what you’ve told me, that man has gone above and beyond to make tonight special for you.”
“But it’s not real.”
My best friend sighs. “Do you want my advice?”
No.
“Sure,” I answer.
She’s going to give me her two cents anyway.
“Marry him. Get the promotion you deserve. Be an utter badass at said job and make your dad eat crow for not changing the rules for you. And while you’re married to the man you’ve had the biggest crush on, get to know him.
Ride his baseball bat as much as you can, and if it works out, awesome.
If not, at least you got some good sex and the job you’ve always dreamed of out of it. ”
I wonder what she’d say if she knew I banned sex from my fake marriage. That aside, can I really do this? Marry Lance and lie to my family? To everyone?
Well, not everyone. Our closest friends will know the truth.
A loud knock on the door startles me.
“Shit. Someone’s here. What do I do?”
Jenna chuckles. “Answer the door. Then go marry your baseball player and call me later. You can do this, G.” She disconnects the call before I can object.
I chuck my phone back into my purse and smooth my curls back, then walk to the door and look through the peephole.
Talia, Savannah, and Grace are standing outside the door, with bags in their hands and wide grins on their faces.
Some of the crippling anxiety I’ve been clinging to disappears as I open the door. “Hey, what are you ladies doing up here?”
“Your fiancé sent us up here with some presents,” Talia says.
She’s a tiny little thing, with black hair, silver-gray eyes, and the kindest soul.
Her presence puts me at ease instantly. I’m not super close to Talia, but we got to know one another better when I helped her and Cam organize an Evaders meet-and-greet at the children’s hospital where she works.
Watching her and Cam together would turn even the blackest of hearts red.
“We’ve brought gifts,” Savannah says, holding up a white garment bag.
I’ve only just met Nico’s girlfriend, Savannah, who is also Talia’s boss, but she gives off major cool–boss-babe vibes. It also helps that she’s stunning. She’s five-six like me, has wavy brown hair, amber eyes, and golden sun-kissed skin.
“And champagne,” Grace says.
Of all the wives and girlfriends I’ve met while working at the Evaders, Grace is the sweetest and most genuine one in the group.
She teaches kindergarten and could make friends with anyone; she’s that friendly.
She’s tall, with straight blonde hair and blue eyes.
The quintessential California girl next door.
I open the door wider, inviting them inside. Savannah opens the closet door and hangs the garment bags on the hook before joining me, Talia, and Grace in the small kitchen.
“Lance really sent you?” I ask. How did he have time? He left the suite not too long ago.
“Of course. He wants you to have everything you need.” Grace places her hand on my forearms and gives them a reassuring squeeze.
Talia ambles toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. “I thought the room Cam and I are in was amazing, but damn, this suite is insane. The view alone is worth every penny.”
The hotel Lance booked is ridiculously expensive. I can’t help but wonder why he’s spending so much money for one night. Tomorrow, I’m headed home, and he’s headed to Arizona with the guys.
“Let’s pop this baby,” Grace shouts, holding up two bottles of expensive champagne, chasing my thoughts away.
“Please,” I agree.
Maybe a little alcohol will help loosen me up and stop my brain from overthinking. I rummage through the cabinets until I find the flutes and place four on the counter. Grace rips off the gold wrapping and pops the cork, then fills them to the brim.
Talia grabs a glass and raises it into the air. “To Lance and Gwen.”
We toast, but the icky feeling in my stomach makes it flip.
With shaky hands, I place my glass on the table. “You all heard the full story. Lance is only doing this to help me. It’s not a real marriage,” I repeat.
“Girl, no man would put all this together for nothing.” Grace winks at me and takes a sip of her champagne.
What if she’s right? Hope attempts to bloom in my chest.
Don’t go there. Lance is a good guy. He would do this for anyone who needed his help.
I take another big gulp of champagne and beg the booze to hit my system on impact. I need to take the edge off my nerves and stop concentrating on the what-ifs.
Savannah pulls out her phone and taps the screen. “Nico says we have one hour to get ready before we have to meet them at the chapel.”
“You mean you have one hour to be ready, or he’s going to march up here, throw you over his shoulder, and whisk you away to your room?” Talia pumps her eyebrows at her boss.
“Quiet, you,” Savannah chides.
“It’s going to be so nice to have you two around. I never realized how lonely I was at some of the games,” Grace says.
“Why’s that?” Savannah asks.
Grace shrugs. “I guess it feels like I don’t have much in common with some of the other wives and girlfriends.”
Her comment piques my interest. I’ve always been curious about the WAGs.
“Are they mean?” I ask.
“Not mean, per se, but a little unwelcoming at times. I’m one of the older wives, and I work full time, so I don’t go to all the games.
Especially during the school year. And I’m okay with that.
I love my job. I’ve always wanted to be a teacher.
I love teaching children. They say and do the funniest things,” Grace explains, sipping her champagne.
“Do you and Heath plan to have kids?” Talia asks.
“We’ve been trying, but nothing has stuck yet.” The sparkle in Grace’s blue eyes dims.
Savannah jumps in. “Grace, if you need a referral, let me know. I can get you in contact with any fertility doctor you want.”
“Thank you,” Grace whispers as she wipes the corner of her eye. “Okay, enough of that. Time to get the bride ready.”
We fill the next hour with easy conversation, delicious champagne, and a lot of laughter. I can see myself hanging out with these amazing women in the future for a good old-fashioned girl’s night out. Cocktails and gossip.
The three of them help me with my makeup and hair, and the weight that was sitting on my chest slowly slips away.
I don’t know how Lance knew I needed these women, but he did and sent them to me. He gifted me peace and friendship at a time when he knew I would need help to calm the storm inside my head.
“Hmm. What are we going to do about this outfit?” Talia places her chin on her fist and stares at me.
“I didn’t have a white dress and thought this was a good alternative.” I glance down the length of my body at the wide-legged white pantsuit and matching jacket I’m wearing. I know it’s not much, but I thought the sparkly pink bustier I opted to wear was a nice touch.
“Don’t get it twisted; you’re beautiful,” Grace says, making me blush.
“But Lance thought you might like to wear this instead.” Savanna returns with the garment bag she hung in the closet. She pulls down the zipper, revealing the dress beneath.
The butterflies in my stomach come to life, their wings flapping in my stomach.
Inside the garment bag is a floor-length silk and satin corset sheath dress with delicate, pleated cap sleeves, in the palest pink.
It’s sophisticated and timeless. It’s something I would have picked out for myself.
How did Lance know?
Hot tears prick my eyes. “It’s gorgeous.”
Talia, Savannah, and Grace help me into the dress, then escort me to the chapel where Lance and his friends are waiting for us.
When I walk into the room, Lance’s attention is immediately on me.
A wide smile spreads across his handsome face as his eyes devour me from head to toe.
When his gaze returns to my face, his blue irises are the same dark color they were when he watched me fall to my knees in the shower and suck him off.
The nerves I felt in his absence melt away and are replaced with something more sensual and sinful as he takes confident strides in my direction, meeting me by the door.
His peppery citrus cologne reaches my nose before he does. “Hey.”
“Hi.”
“You look stunning. Better than I imagined.”
My cheeks heat under his penetrating and appreciative stare. “Thank you for the dress; it’s beautiful.”
“You’re welcome. As soon as I saw it, I knew it would look amazing on you.”
“You didn’t have to buy it.”
He smirks. “You’ll learn. I don’t do anything I don’t want to.”
“Even this?” My voice cracks on the single syllable as I wave my hand toward the small altar covered in a delicate spray of white and pink flowers.
“Even that,” he says.
The band around my chest squeezes, and I look away. Lance places his palm on my cheek, forcing me to stare into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
“I think so,” I admit.
Honestly, I’m riding the wave between panic and excitement, and it’s scaring the absolute crap out of me.
I melt into his warm palm as he traces my cheekbone with his thumb in gentle, soothing circles. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
“I know.” I truly do. Lance hasn’t pressured me at all. Every step forward has been of my choosing. I think that’s what makes marrying him even more confusing.
He drops his hand from my face and takes a small step back. “So then, what do you want to do, Gwen? Get married or run away?” he asks, almost daring me to run.
I gaze into his eyes, like I would a magic eight ball, and search their piercing blue depths for answers.
Get married or run?
Lance is giving me a way out of this. Our lives can go back to their regular schedule programming; all I have to do is run away right now.
I can go back to living my life as is. No promotion, no fallout with my family, no stress and anxiety over lying …
And no Lance.
Even if this scheme blows us spectacularly, the soft whisper in my heart says it would be worth the ruin.
Lance would be worth it.
I’ve never been one for backing down, and since I’ve come this far.
Fuck it.
“Let’s get married.”
“That’s my girl.” Lance holds out his hand, and I take it.
We thread our fingers together and walk down the aisle toward where our group of friends and the officiant are waiting for us.
It takes ten minutes for us to recite the traditional wedding vows and for the lovely woman presiding over the ceremony to pronounce us husband and wife.
After today, my life will never be the same. From here on out, my life will be the after-Lance era.
“You may now kiss the bride,” the officiant announces to a melee of catcalls, whistles, and cheers.
I barely register everyone’s cheers of congratulations as Lance places one hand behind my neck and the other on the middle of my back.
As it always does, my body ignites into flames under his touch.
My shaky fingers find the lapels of his jacket, and I grip the silky fabric in my fists. I hold on for dear life as he slowly leans forward.
Our lips touch, and the fire in my belly explodes as I sink into Lance’s embrace.
My body and brain are no match for the magnetic pull this man has on me.
This kiss does not align with our PDA rule of chaste pecks. No, this kiss is deep, languid, and full of desire. A simmering need that’s been bubbling below the surface of my skin since I had to leave him sleeping the morning after.
And yet, I couldn’t give one damn.
He tilts my head to the side and plunders my mouth with his tongue, wrapping it around mine in a feverish dance I wish would never end.
Lance is the first to pull back, but not before giving my bottom lip a nip.
“You broke the rules,” I whisper.
I’m met with a devilish smirk as he leans in and whispers in my ear, “I promise not to break any more rules until you do.”
Until I do?
His statement and the confidence in his words remind me of our chat in the café, and like I did then, I get the feeling Lance knows something I don’t.
I just can’t put my finger on what exactly that is yet.