Chapter 6
Six
Delaney
I adjust my thrifted emerald green dress for the third time and check my reflection in the bookshop window. With the way the silk fabric catches the late afternoon light in contrast to the honey strands of my casual updo, I almost look like I belong on the arm of a professional athlete.
Almost.
"Stop fidgeting," Maya calls from behind the counter where she's pretending to organize receipts instead of watching me panic. "You look gorgeous."
"This is insane." I smooth back the loose curls hanging in my face, which I managed to slightly tame for once in my life thanks to a YouTube tutorial and half a bottle of hairspray. "What if he realizes this is ridiculous and doesn't show up? What if everyone sees right through us? What if–"
The bell above the door chimes, and Mac Sullivan fills the doorway.
I forget how to breathe.
He's traded his usual jeans and Henley for a charcoal gray suit that transforms him from brooding hockey player into something that belongs in a magazine.
His dark hair is styled back, revealing the sharp line of his jaw and that scar through his eyebrow that makes him look dangerous even when he's trying to be civilized.
"Wow." The word slips out before I can stop it.
His mouth quirks up at the corner. "You clean up pretty well yourself, Caldwell."
Heat floods my cheeks. "It's just a dress."
"It's not just anything." His voice is lower than usual, and something in his eyes makes my stomach flip. Then he seems to catch himself and steps back. "Ready to convince your town that we're madly in love?"
Right. The fake dating. The bet. The performance we're about to give at our mayor's daughter, Sarah's, wedding.
"I brought you a boutonniere," I say, reaching for the small box on the counter. "Sarah's very traditional about these things."
Mac holds out his hand, and I slide the small flowers onto his lapel. He's warm and solid under my fingertips, and I catch a hint of his cologne—something woodsy that makes me want to step closer, instead of away.
"There," I whisper, realizing I've been standing too close for too long. "Perfect."
"What's our story again?" he asks as we walk toward his car. It's a sleek, expensive-looking black sedan that looks completely out of place on Main Street.
"Most people know the truth, but we're… inflating it a bit. We have to make it as authentic as possible. We reconnected when you came in for the book signing. You were charming and devastatingly handsome. I was smitten immediately, and we've been inseparable ever since."
He opens my door with old-fashioned courtesy that surprises me. "And no one will question the elephant in the room?"
"They will, but we'll ignore them."
The small smirk he's trying to hide tells me he seems to like that answer. We wave goodbye to Maya, who plans to drive in separately, and head out the front door, promising not to do anything she wouldn't do.
The drive to Oceanview Manor takes fifteen minutes through winding coastal roads. Mac navigates like someone who knows these streets by memory, which I suppose he does. Every summer for how many years? Ten? Twelve?
The closer we get, the higher my panic rises as my mind races through every scenario of what can happen tonight.
"Nervous?" he asks, glancing at my hands twisted in my lap.
"Terrified. My family is going to interrogate you mercilessly. Fair warning: Aunt Carol will ask about your intentions, my cousin Mike will want to talk about hockey stats, and my mother will probably show you my baby pictures."
He harumphs. "Sounds awful."
"It might be," I admit, studying his profile as he drives. "You can still back out. We could say you got food poisoning. Our first date should be more private, right?"
What were we thinking, starting off so public?
"And let you win the first round?” His eyes slide over to mine, a single brow lifting in stubborn protest. “Not happening. We'll be fine."
The manor comes into view, all ivy-covered stone and hanging lights strung between ancient oak trees. Cars fill the circular drive, and I can see guests in formal wear mingling on the terrace despite the November chill.
Mac pulls into a spot and turns to face me. "Last chance to give me intel. What do I need to know?"
Twisting in my seat, I relay every significant detail.
"Well, I already told you Sarah is Mayor Patterson's daughter.
We're the same age, so we grew up together, but I’ve never really been…
in with her crowd." I offer an awkward, guilty smile. There’s really no delicate way to admit to being an outcast. "She's marrying David, her college boyfriend of five years.
Very practical, very planned, very conventional.
Nothing like a romance novel, which is why I thought this trope test is perfect. "
"Why would she invite you to her wedding if you aren’t–" He begins to ask, but I cut him off.
"Everyone in town is invited," I snap, hating how insecure I feel. "And while I haven’t ever been friends with Sarah, per se, I am friends with her grandmother, who religiously attends book club meetings every month.”
His expression drops in understanding.
Pathetic. I’m pathetic.
Thankfully, he changes the subject. "What about your family? What do I need to know about them?"
I push my lips to the side. If I don't tell him the truth now, he'll figure it out within the first hour. "They think I'm too romantic for my own good. They worry I'll end up alone because I'm waiting for some fictional perfect love instead of settling for good enough."
Something flickers across his face. "Maybe they have a point."
I scowl. "Maybe they don't."
We stare at each other for a moment too long. The air between us feels charged, like the space before lightning strikes.
"Ready?" he finally asks.
I nod, and he gets out to open my door. When he offers his arm, I take it, and we walk into the lion's den together.
Sarah's wedding is everything I expected it would be—elegant, traditional, and absolutely perfect.
Just like her. The ceremony takes place in the manor's garden under a canopy of white roses and baby's breath.
Mac and I slip into seats near the back, but not before half my relatives spot us and start whispering.
"Delaney!" Aunt Carol practically shouts across three rows of guests. "Is that the hockey player?"
I wave weakly as Sarah's processional music begins. Mac leans close to my ear, his breath warm against my neck. "This is going well already."
Despite everything, I bite back a laugh.
The ceremony is beautiful. Sarah glows as she walks down the aisle, and David looks like he might cry with happiness. When they exchange vows about choosing each other every day through whatever comes, I feel my own eyes well up.
Mac's hand finds mine somewhere during the "for better or worse" part. His fingers are rough from years of hockey, yet surprisingly gentle. When I glance at him, he's watching the couple with an expression I can't read.
"You okay?" I whisper.
He nods but doesn't let go of my hand.
“Just putting on a show.”
The reception flows into the manor's ballroom, all crystal chandeliers and parquet floors.
Our table is definitely strategic positioning.
We're surrounded by other couples and my most romantically-minded relatives.
Sarah is not as slick as she thinks, but I can only hope it helps me in the long run.
"So, Mac," Aunt Carol starts before we've even sat down. "Delaney tells us you're taking a break from hockey?"
"Recovering from an injury," he says smoothly, pulling out my chair.
His tone has changed since it was just us in the car, sounding more professional and less…
. Brooding. I almost hate that I notice it at all.
"I wasn't happy about it at first, but I'm realizing a break might be long overdue.
Gives me time to explore other interests. "
"Like romance novels?" Asks my cousin Beth with barely concealed glee.
Mac's smile is perfectly charming and completely fake. "Like getting to know your wonderful cousin."
I nearly choke on my water. He's too good at this.
Dinner conversation continues around us.
Hockey talk from the men, wedding planning advice from the women, and pointed questions about our "relationship" from everyone.
Mac handles it all with surprising grace, deflecting personal questions while revealing just enough detail to seem genuine.
He's clearly been trained to handle difficult situations like this, while I'm kind of left floundering.
"How did you get him to remember you after all these years?" asks my teenage cousin Emma, chin propped on her hands like she's watching a romantic movie. “The Delaney I knew back then hardly walked outside.”
I balk, awkwardly blowing a dismissive raspberry with my lips that makes everyone around us frown. Lifting my glass to my lips to hide my blush, I shake my head. “I wasn't a vampire, Emma. I still socialized.”
Mac turns to me, and for a second, his mask seems to slip. "She reminds me of someone very important to me. Someone who believed in magic when the rest of the world was too cynical to see it."
The table goes quiet. Even Aunt Carol looks touched.
"That's beautiful," Emma sighs.
I stare at Mac, my heart doing something complicated and painful in my chest. He's talking about Lily, but the way he's looking at me makes it feel like he means more than just the resemblance.
The band starts playing, and couples drift toward the dance floor. Mac stands and offers his hand.
"Shall we?"
“You want to dance?” I squeak, my eyes darting between him and the crowded floor.
He lifts a brow, that signature smirk deepening the dimple in his cheek. “You said I had to participate fully. This is me participating.”
Straightening my shoulders, I nod once. He's right. I just didn't expect him to go along with it all so easily.