Chapter 10 Drew #2
She snorted at me. “Did you expect me to tell the producer of a reality TV wedding show that weddings are a crapshoot, and probably half the couples I work with will end up divorced in five years?”
For a second, I just blinked, totally taken aback. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” she said, then took another swig of wine.
“There are some couples where I’m legit shocked that they even make it through the ceremony.
Rehearsal dinners can get ugly. You’d think that might make more people see that as a cue to take a step back and say ‘Hey, is this really a good idea?’ but everyone feels so invested by that point that hardly anyone backs out.
Even when they probably should. Yeah, eating it on cancellation fees is expensive, but do you know how expensive divorce can be? ”
I did, actually. My brother Harrison had gone through a nasty battle with his first wife, Miranda.
“Hold on,” I said. “Why are you even in this industry? Because that’s not being a realist, it sounds more like a curmudgeon. Is it just for the money?”
I watched as she hesitated, like formulating a response was tricky for her.
“Honestly? Yeah, that’s part of it. I’ve got bills to pay. But it’s not just that. I really do love weddings, even if I don’t have a ton of faith in marriages.”
“Okay,” I said slowly, waiting for her to elaborate.
“Weddings are a celebration. They’re joyous and fun, and full of good food and good music and families and friends coming together.
I love that stuff! It can be great for everyone involved, not just the couple at the center of it.
But a marriage is about so much more than just the big day.
Couples would be better off putting the same level of care and scrutiny into their relationships as they put into the party to celebrate it.
But they hire me to give them a beautiful day, so that’s what I deliver. ”
“That sounds fair,” I allowed.
Truth be told, it was a much more nuanced response than I’d been expecting. I’d thought we were complete opposites when it came to our views of romance, but it was sounding like we might actually see eye to eye.
“My feelings about whether the marriage will work or not don’t matter, my job is to make sure that the day is a wonderful experience for everyone there.
Life can be hard and dark and awful sometimes—and it’s always going to be full of challenges that are just as likely to pull a couple apart as to bring them closer together.
But sweet moments that give you joy can remind you to hold on to the good when everything seems dark. ”
It was a strange dichotomy; a wedding planner who loved the party but not necessarily the reason for it. But I liked the contrast. It made her even more interesting.
“Anyway,” she said with finality. “My views don’t matter since our engagement is all a facade. Let’s get back to the plan. Like, where’s my big fat ring?”
“Right, of course.” I cringed at the plot hole. “We need to figure out why you’re not wearing one right now.”
“Easy. You got the wrong size and we’re having it fixed.”
“Absolutely not.” I frowned at her. “I would never make that kind of mistake. It’s so easy to make sure you’ve sized the ring properly.”
The waiter delivered a basket of bread and Emilia grabbed a slice before he’d even placed it on the table.
“Sorry, starving,” she said as soon as she’d swallowed. “Getting forced into a fake engagement and saving Winston’s life built up an appetite. What were you saying about how you do everything right?”
“That’s not what I meant,” I smirked at her. “My point was that it doesn’t track that I’d get your ring size wrong. I’m thorough.”
Emilia watched me for a moment wearing a bemused smile. “Yes, I’m sure you are. And how sweet that the real you would be all sleuth-y to figure out your girl’s ring size, but the fictional version of you did screw it up, because how else would we explain me not wearing it?”
I tried to think of another reason that would justify the absence of the ring… and came up empty.
“Fine,” I sighed. “You win.”
“Cheer up—we can turn this into a cute story, and then make a big deal when I have it on.”
“We probably should talk about what we like doing together. Hobbies, that sort of thing. In case it comes up.”
Emilia trailed her fingertips along the edge of her glass and lowered her lids to a seductive half-mast. I found myself gulping in response.
“If we’re making this look ready for reality TV, we only need to have one hobby,” she said in a low voice. “Fucking.”
I cleared my throat, which had gotten mysteriously tight. “Oh come on. How can we possibly suggest that on TV?”
“Look at your face!” She threw her head back and laughed.
It took her a few seconds to work through her giggling.
“It’s all about the implication of it, not coming out and saying the words.
We can say we have great chemistry. We have a magnetic relationship.
We just click when we’re together. Like that, you know? ”
She’d caught me off guard but I decided it was time to turn the tables on her.
“So, if I understand you,” I said, locking onto her eyes with an unblinking stare. “That means we’ll have to act the part as well. I mean, we can’t claim to have incredible heat between us and then not touch each other, right?”
“Oh?” Her voice shook on the single syllable. Victory.
I tapped my chin, pretending to think it through.
“Stop me if you disagree, but I think it’ll be expected for me to place my hand on your lower back, right above your ass, to guide you into a room.
Right at the curve. My touch will be nice and gentle, but firm enough that you feel it through the fabric of your clothes. ”
She cleared her throat and grabbed at her wine glass. “Okay. Y-you’re right—people will probably expect it. That’s fine.”
I leaned closer to her and lowered my voice.
“And sometimes, I’ll walk over to you and gently place my palm against your cheek.
I’ll stare into your eyes for a few seconds, then slowly pull you into a kiss.
It’ll be soft and quick because it’s a stolen kiss, but it’ll be hot enough to make everyone believe that it has you desperate for more.
Of course, you’ll have to look at me like you’re forcing yourself not to drag me into the nearest empty room. ”
Emilia had her wine glass hovering in the air, like she’d forgotten she was holding it. “Uh-huh.” Her face was flushed and I knew it wasn’t from the wine because she’d barely tasted it.
“When I want it to look like I’m feeling particularly horny for you, I might walk over and whisper dirty things just loud enough that someone might overhear. Stuff I want to do to you.”
I shifted, because my little fantasy was starting to feel real. Emilia’s breathing had gone shallow.
“Like what?” Emilia’s voice was a whisper.
I didn’t have to think very hard to conjure up what I wanted to do to her, because I’d already been thinking it. “Like … how I’d unbutton your business lady blouse with my teeth.”
She nodded silently, her eyes wide.
“I’d slowly pull that silk aside so I could stare at your perfect breasts.”
“Sounds nice,” she murmured. Her eyes dipped down to watch my mouth.
Fuck it. I was going there.
“I’d slowly run my thumb around your nip—”
“I have a Castroville artichoke,” the waiter said, clearly unaware of what he was interrupting.
Emilia popped upright. “That’s me.”
“And scallop carpaccio for you, sir,” he placed the plate in front of me.
“Thank you,” we said in unison.
We stared down at our plates silently. I’d been hungry when I ordered it, but now the only thing I wanted to devour was off limits.
Although not really, given what I’d now dubbed “our horny clause.” Could I be satisfied with faux intimacy?
I watched Emilia pluck off an artichoke leaf, put it to her mouth and drag it out slowly with her eyes closed in ecstasy.
Hot damn, she could make eating an artichoke sexy. I shook my head. I had no choice but to make it work. Both our reputations and the hotel’s depended on it.