Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Liam
We’re seated at a table, enjoying lunch with Ethan, Lily, Max, Caleb, and Jacob. The conversation flows effortlessly, filled with laughter and good-natured ribbing about work and life. Audrey’s eyes sparkle with mirth, her smile radiant as she leans into me, her hand resting on my thigh beneath the table.
Suddenly, the music shifts, and a catchy tune I can’t recognize fills the air. Audrey’s face lights up, her body already swaying to the beat. “Oh my God, I love this song,” she exclaims, her excitement visible. “We have to dance.”
Lily grins, grabbing Ethan’s hand and pulling him toward the dance floor. “Come on, babe, let’s show them how it’s done,” she teases, her hips already moving in time with the music.
Audrey turns to me, her eyes pleading and her lower lip jutting out in an adorable pout. “Please, Liam? Just one dance?” She bats her eyelashes, and I feel my resolve crumbling.
“Okay, okay. Just a reminder I have two left feet though,” I chuckle, rising to stand and offering her my hand. “Let’s go, gorgeous.”
She beams, her hand slipping into mine as we make our way to the dance floor. The warmth of her touch sends a shiver down my spine, and I pull her close, my arm wrapping around her waist.
We step onto the dance floor, and I’m acutely aware of the eyes following our every move. Audrey’s body molds to mine, her curves fitting perfectly against me as we start to sway to the rhythm.
“I keep feeling like we’re in a show—the Liam and Audrey show—and I’m afraid I’ll forget the lines,” she whispers, her lips barely moving as her breath tickles my ear. Her eyes are wide, a hint of vulnerability shining through.
“It’ll be done soon,” I say, my heart clenching at the thought of our agreement coming to an end. Maybe I should take her with me to San Diego tonight. There has to be a flight available—if not, tomorrow morning. The idea of being without her, even for a day, feels like a physical ache in my chest.
As we move together, our bodies in perfect sync, I find myself getting lost in the moment. The music fades away, and all I can focus on is the feel of Audrey in my arms, the way her eyes shine as she looks up at me—it sends me into a tailspin. I keep falling and falling.
And falling.
I don’t know when this will stop or if I even want it to stop.
“Liam, you two are just adorable,” one of Audrey’s aunts, or maybe a cousin, gushes as we near the edge of the dance floor. She’s clutching a glass of champagne, her eyes misty with emotion as she looks at us with that same expectant glimmer that everyone seems to have tonight.
“Thanks, Aunt Carol,” Audrey says, her smile strained as she leans into me. Her grip on my hand tightens, and I can feel the tension radiating from her body.
“Speaking of fun,” interjects the guy next to Aunt Carol, his drink sloshing in his hand just like his words, “when you plan your wedding, make sure the aisle is wide enough for dancing. That’s what your cousin Lucy did, and it was a hit.”
I guess this is who they call the drunk uncle. Every family has one.
Oh, we’re so not discussing Lucy right now. I drag Audrey away, my jaw clenched as I try to control my irritation. “Duly noted, Uncle Mike,” Audrey calls over her shoulder, her voice saccharine sweet. “A danceable aisle for the win.”
As we make our way back to the center of the dance floor, I pull Audrey closer, my forehead resting against hers. “Just focus on me,” I murmur, my thumb stroking the small of her back. “Forget about everyone else. Right now, it’s just you and me.”
She nods, her eyes fluttering closed as she melts into my embrace. And while we continue to move as one, the world around us fading away, I can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, this dance is the start of something real, something that goes beyond the pretense of our fake engagement.
As the night wears on, every encounter feels like a comedic sketch we hadn’t rehearsed but somehow nail every time. From Great Aunt Muriel’s advice on keeping the spark alive (“Never go to bed angry—or without a kiss”) to cousin Tim’s two cents on honeymoon destinations (“Somewhere with a beach, trust me”), we smile and nod, our cheeks aching from the constant grinning.
“Hey, you two lovebirds,” chimes in Mom from across the table during a rare moment of rest. “Don’t forget to pick a song that’s ‘your song.’ It’s crucial.”
“Absolutely,” Audrey plays along, her hand finding mine beneath the table and giving it a squeeze. “We’ll spend hours listening to music until we find the perfect track that screams ‘us.’” She smiles, but I can see the strain behind it, the exhaustion creeping in at the edges.
“I thought we had it, babe,” I claim. “Didn’t we?” I turn to Audrey, my head tilted in question.
“We do?” Audrey asks, her eyes widening in surprise. She bites her lower lip, a habit I’ve noticed she does when she’s uncertain.
“Yeah, Bohemian Rhapsody,” I say, my tone matter-of-fact. I can’t help but grin at the bewildered expression on her face.
“That’s not a romantic song for the first dance,” Audrey protests, her nose scrunching up in distaste. She shakes her head, her hair brushing against my shoulder with the movement.
“But it’s our favorite to sing along to, babe,” I counter, my arm draping across the back of her chair. I lean in close, my lips brushing against her ear as I hum a few bars of the song.
She laughs, trying to push me away but I don’t let her.
Mom rolls her eyes, a fond exasperation written across her features. “Please think about it, there’s no rush at all.” She waves a dismissive hand, her attention already drifting to the next conversation.
Audrey laughs once Mom is gone, the sound like music to my ears. “You do know how to get rid of people when they start nagging about the wedding.” She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder, and I can feel the warmth of her body seeping into mine.
“Apparently it is one of my new gifts,” I say, my chest puffing up with pride. “Use them wisely though.” I press a kiss to her temple, inhaling the sweet scent of her perfume.
“But Bohemian Rhapsody wouldn’t be our song,” Audrey argues, her fingers tracing patterns on my thigh. The sensation sends a shiver down my spine, and I have to fight the urge to pull her onto my lap and kiss her senseless.
“Dancing Queen?” I suggest, my eyebrow arching in challenge. I can see the laughter dancing in her eyes, the way her lips twitch as she fights back a smile.
“Nope. ”
“Living on a Prayer?” I start with the unique and yet famous talk box effect. “Wah-oh-oh-oh, wah-oh-oh-oh, wah-oh-oh-oh?—”
“Stop naming or singing famous karaoke songs,” she interrupts what could’ve been a great rendition of the song, her hand playfully swats at my chest.
“You’re no fun, my lady,” I tease, my fingers catching hers and bringing them to my lips. I press a soft kiss to her fingertips, my eyes never leaving hers.
“Oh, I’m fun,” she flirts, her voice low and sultry. She leans in close, her breath hot against my ear. “Wanna go to my room so I can show you?”
My breath catches in my throat, my pulse racing at the implication of her words. I swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry as I meet her gaze. There’s heat there, a promise of something more, and it takes every ounce of my self-control not to sweep her into my arms and carry her away from the party.
But I know we can’t, not yet. We have a role to play, an act to maintain. So instead, I settle for a smirk, my hand squeezing hers as I murmur, “Tempting, but we should probably stay a little longer. Don’t want to raise any suspicions.” I glance toward her brother Jacob who’s sending assassin vibes my way .
Audrey pouts, her lower lip jutting out in a way that makes me want to capture it between my teeth. But she nods, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “Fine, but you owe me.” She leans closer, her hand on my crotch. “You, your cock and . . . I get to choose what I do with it.”
My heart skips a beat, my dick twitches and though I want to say, “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I actually mumble, “Deal, babe.”