Chapter 12
TWELVE
Lottie
“He kissed you?” Madeline repeats, not even bothering to lower her voice.
The small bathroom at Wave and Wharf is empty except for us, but I still wince, glancing toward the door like someone might walk in.
“Can you not say it like that?” I whisper.
“Like what?” she presses, grinning. “Like it’s the most important detail of this entire day?”
“It’s not—”
“But he kissed you?” she repeats, staring at me with wide eyes.
I drag in a breath, leaning back against the counter. “Yes,” I admit. “He did. But it was for practice.”
Her entire face lights up. “Oh my God.”
I’d slipped away from the table, needing a minute—just a second for my brain to catch up to everything that had happened today.
After we left the courthouse, Wes drove us straight here, pulling up to the valet at the restaurant where a couple of photographers were already waiting—no doubt tipped off by Victoria.
The moment he came around the car to help me out, cameras started clicking.
It all happened so quickly I barely registered it before his hand found the small of my back, guiding me inside to the table where his brothers, Landyn, and Madeline were already seated.
We’d barely gotten through hellos and introductions before Wes ordered champagne for the table, like this was something worth celebrating.
That’s when I excused myself to go to the bathroom, just to give myself a chance to breathe.
Madeline had immediately pushed her chair back from the table and followed me.
“It wasn’t—” I start, already shaking my head. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then explain it to me,” she says, folding her arms like she’s settling in. “Because from where I’m standing, you just married a man you weren’t supposed to have feelings for, and you’re telling me he kissed you before the ceremony?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “It was right before we left,” I admit. “I asked him to help me with my dress, and then we were talking about the whole press thing, that it might look weird if our first kiss was in front of cameras. So, he said maybe we should—”
“Practice,” she finishes for me, looking entirely too excited.
I nod.
Her mouth falls open.
I groan, dragging a hand over my face. “It was supposed to be quick. Just…you know…so it wouldn’t look awkward later.”
Madeline leans in slightly. “And was it quick?”
I hesitate and that’s all she needs.
“It wasn’t quick,” she breathes.
“No,” I admit. “It was…a kiss.”
Madeline clutches her chest. “Define kiss.”
I glare at her, but I can feel the heat in my face. “It wasn’t just, like, lips touching and done. It was—” I stop myself, shaking my head. “It was like neither one of us wanted it to end. It got intense fast.”
Her eyes go even wider. “Did he use tongue?”
“Oh my God, did he ever. It was incredible. But now I feel like I shouldn’t have enjoyed it that much.”
“Lottie,” she says, completely delighted. “No one would blame you for kissing him. Objectively speaking, the guy is smoking hot.”
“We agreed it wouldn’t happen again.”
Madeline laughs. “Good luck with that. You realize now that you’ve kissed him once, you’re going to want to do it again, right? Attraction like that is not something you can turn off.”
“No. It was a one-time thing.”
Madeline stares at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You’re actually serious right now?”
“I am,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest. “I mean it. It felt too real and I’m not putting myself in a situation where I catch feelings in a fake marriage.
I know how this is going to play out a year from now.
Besides, Wes doesn’t do relationships, and I’m not built for a temporary fling.
Why make this harder than it already is? ”
“Mm hmm,” she hums, making it clear she’s not buying it. I narrow my eyes at her while she fights back a smile.
“Behave yourself,” I tell her, laughing for what feels like the first time today as I push open the bathroom door.
“You first,” she responds with a wink.
I take a deep breath and lead the way back to the table where my new husband is waiting.
Madeline makes a soft, borderline inappropriate groan as she takes another bite of her filet, her eyes closing for a second like she’s having an intimate moment.
“Okay,” she says, pointing her fork at the plate in front of her, “this might be the best thing I’ve ever tasted. There is no reason a steak should taste this good.”
Jesse snorts from across the table, giving her a what the fuck look. “Wow, good to know the years I’ve spent perfecting my steak mean absolutely nothing to you.”
She leans back, smiling. “Yours is still my favorite, my love. But this one is making a very strong case.”
Noah glances at Jesse. “Watch out, Jess. You’re going to lose her to the chef in the kitchen.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I cut another bite of my own steak. “She’s not wrong, though. This might be the best thing I’ve eaten in my life.”
“Wow, in your life? High praise,” Ford says, but there’s a hint of a smile there as he glances at Landyn.
Across the table, Jesse launches into a story about a deal gone sideways that soon turns into a joke at his own expense.
It all feels like a dream. I’m a married woman.
I’m sitting here having dinner with my husband’s family.
I don’t need to be reminded that none of it is real, but right now it kind of feels like it is.
Everyone around the table is laughing and relaxed.
Wes sits back in his chair, his suit jacket and tie long gone, the top button of his dress shirt undone.
He’s quiet, but there’s an ease to him that only makes him even more attractive.
As if he can feel me watching him, his gaze shifts to me. There’s something observant in his expression, observant, like he’s been tracking me this whole time without making it obvious. It makes my stomach dip. I look away first, reaching for my drink just for something to do.
“Hey,” Jesse says suddenly, pointing his fork at me. “You’re fitting in a little too well over there. Should I be worried?”
“Very,” I deadpan. “I’m already planning ways to steal your dessert.”
“Wow,” he says, leaning back in his chair. “She marries into the family and immediately turns on us.”
The moment is suddenly interrupted when a man I don’t recognize appears at our table.
“Well, I’ll be damned…all four of the Winters brothers under one roof.
” He looks like he’s in his mid-forties.
His eyes land on Wes, then move to me. His gaze drops to the massive diamond ring on my ring finger.
“Looks like the rumors are true,” he says, smiling. “Congratulations.”
Wes stands, one hand resting on the back of my chair. He reaches forward to shake the man’s hand. “Thank you,” he says easily. “This is my wife, Lottie. Lottie, this is Mark.”
My wife.
I turn to face him, offering a polite smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise. You two sure know how to make headlines,” he says.
“Wasn’t really the goal,” Wes says flatly. “But my brothers and I are not exactly known for subtlety.”
Mark nods, then steps back from the table. “Well, I just wanted to say hello. I’ll let you get back to your evening. It was nice seeing you all.” He disappears back into the restaurant before Wes leans into me. “My wife,” he repeats. “Have you gotten used to that yet?”
I pick up my glass, bringing it to my lips to steady myself.
Not even close.
Dinner goes better than I expected.
Somewhere over the two and a half hours, I stopped trying to keep track of how many courses there were and just let it happen.
Everything was beautifully plated and absolutely delicious, over the top in a way that reminded me exactly what kind of world Wes lives in.
And somehow, I didn’t feel out of place in it.
Conversation flowed easily, which surprised me more than anything.
Jesse was funny and quick-witted while Ford was quieter and more reserved.
But every time he looked at Landyn, it was like the rest of us disappeared.
Noah fell somewhere in the middle. He has an easy confidence and cocky grin, but that’s softened by kind eyes that make him seem far more approachable than the rest of his brothers.
And then there was Wes. He was steady, observant, and only spoke when it mattered. Every once in a while, I would catch him watching me, like he was making sure I was okay. Like this—all of this—is something he feels responsible for.
It did something weird to my chest.
I like them. I like the way it felt to sit at that table, to be included, to be part of something that’s warm and easy and real. But I couldn’t quiet the uncomfortable reminder that settled in the back of my mind: This isn’t mine. It never will be.
I’m envious of Madeline, who gets to have this life for real. She gets to be a part of this family without an expiration date hanging over her head. But I’m just passing through. I hate how much that bothers me.
As we step outside after dinner, I’m more tense than I was when I stood at the altar with Wes. I’m not sure what to expect. Will there be cameras waiting for us? The night air is cool and sharp against my skin, grounding me, but that feeling doesn’t last for long.
I spot a photographer immediately, lingering at the restaurant entrance with his camera already up, ready to get a shot of Wes and me.
Wes’s hand finds mine almost automatically, like we do this everyday. “Just ignore him,” he murmurs, squeezing my hand in his. “Soon we’ll be in the car, and this part will all be over with.”
We move toward the valet together, unhurried, the low hum of the city around us mixing with the heavy beat of my pulse in my ears.
I try not to think about it, but my mind keeps replaying the day—the kiss, the wedding, the way it felt to sit next to Wes as we ate dinner with his family.
I’m extremely aware of his big, strong hand in mine.
I imagine those same hands travelling my body.
But instead of heat, I feel a chill as it hits me all at once—the reality of what I’ve done, of what this actually means.
Ever since we got to the courthouse, it’s like we’ve been following a script, playing our part.
Say “I do,” sign the papers, meet Wes’s family, smile for the cameras.
But very soon it will just be Wes and me in his big, beautiful home.
Living together, sharing our lives for an entire year.
I glance up at Wes as we stop near the curb. He looks preoccupied, and I wonder if reality is setting in for him too. My mind stops spinning when the car pulls up and the valet steps out to hand Wes the keys. He lets go of my hand long enough to step forward, opening the passenger door for me.
“Thanks,” I say softly.
I suddenly become aware of how close we are standing.
His body blocks the open car door, heat radiating off him, even through the layers of his suit.
His lips part slightly like he’s about to say something, but instead his tongue runs over his bottom lip.
This is the moment we talked about. One kiss for the cameras.
A kiss convincing enough to sell the story, so they’d have what they need.
They’d get their shot, and then hopefully, they’d leave us alone.
He’s so much taller than me that I have to tilt my head back to meet his gaze. When I do, his charcoal-gray eyes lock on mine, steady and intent, and my heart stutters hard enough for me to feel it everywhere.
“Do you still think you’re the exception?” he murmurs, his voice low, meant just for me.
Is he serious? This doesn’t feel light or teasing, or like a performance for the cameras. There’s an intimacy to it. There’s an edge to it.
“I think you’re forgetting that none of this is real,” I say, rising up on my toes to whisper it in his ear.
I pull back to look at him, my eyes meeting his.
There’s a softness to his expression that shouldn’t be there, paired with the faintest hint of a smirk.
His eyes stay locked on mine, and it does something to me—it puts me off balance.
My chest tightens, my pulse kicks up, and suddenly my hands move before I can think better of it.
My fingers curl into the front of his suit jacket, needing to ground myself in something solid as the space between us disappears completely.
A soft breath leaves me when I feel him, his chest pressing against mine, solid and warm.
Something in me unravels a little, my thoughts slipping, my body reacting faster than I can keep up with. I hold his gaze, trying to steady myself, but it’s useless. His hand lifts, fingers brushing along my jaw, tilting my face just slightly.
My eyes flutter closed, and then his lips are on mine. I melt into him as he deepens the kiss, tilting my head back as his tongue slides next to mine between parted lips. The kiss is electric. It’s reckless. It’s utterly addictive.
We pull apart slowly, like neither of us is ready for it to end. My eyes open, finding his instantly as our chests rise and fall against each other.
I brush my thumb lightly over his bottom lip, catching the faint smudge of lipstick left behind. His gaze drops briefly to my mouth, before lifting again with a smirk.
“Should we go home, Mrs. Winters?” he murmurs, his fingers grazing the inside of my wrist. “Or do you need a second to recover?”