22. Rosay
Chapter twenty-two
Rosay
I check my watch for the fourth time in the last hour, impatiently adjusting candles inside glass vases, the centerpieces for the reception tables.
Catering pans are set up with everything needed for the rehearsal brunch, and Wendy and Winnie are off in the corner speaking with the caterer, throwing suspicious looks my way.
I don’t know if they want me over there or if they have a task for me to do, but I figure it’s best to stay out of their way and let them tell me when they’re ready.
Elegant red and white chiffon drapes the arch at the end of the aisle, and I stare at it with a deep ache in my chest. Watching my little sister get ready to marry the man of her dreams reminds me that the man of my dreams is somewhere on this property with my father, not knowing I’ve realized that I want a future with him.
Thinking about life with Graham is a short-lived experience.
Even if he potentially wanted more, there’s our careers to consider.
I’m still undecided on whether I want to stay in the position I’m in or seek the promotion to senior VP, taking on more responsibilities and a bigger team to manage.
The kids I tutor have grown so much in the past year, and if I get this promotion, I may not have time to tutor.
But think of how proud your family will be to tell everyone you’re a senior VP at Thompson.
Indigestion burns my chest at the thought of disappointing my family, especially my dad. He stuck his neck out for me when he asked his friend to help get me this job, and for years I’ve done my absolute best to make sure he never regretted that decision, even though it’s not my passion.
“Hey, Rosie.” Winnie waves me over, sharing a conspiring look with Wendy. “Come here.”
I set the glass over the candles and head to where they are reading some paper the caterer left.
“What’s up?”
“We were thinking of adding a few more people to the wedding and wondered if you could take a look at the new breakdown?”
“How many are we talking about?” I ask, arching a brow. Winnie made it clear she didn’t want too many people at the wedding, so I’m curious what transpired that she needed to add more.
“Ten. Maybe twenty. I just want to make sure the pricing is right if we have some unexpected guests or if someone brings a guest not on the RSVP list. You know how weddings get. At first, you only invite one hundred people and then magically you have fifty more guests show up.”
I chuckle at her nervous rambling, surprised she has the jitters the day before she finally marries the man she’s waited over ten years for. I glance over the sheet, doing calculations in my head to ensure the caterer didn’t slip in any extra charges outside of what’s expected.
“It looks good.” I hand her back the paper just as two familiar voices float into the room.
My heart rate soars when I hear Graham’s smooth voice along with my dad’s rasp.
I watch them laughing as they enter the main room.
A smile tugs my lips into a curve, happy to see how well Graham fits in with my family.
On the heels of that thought, I frown. He fits in perfectly , and this is only temporary.
What happens the next time they invite me for dinner and I have to tell them that Graham isn’t coming?
That we split up only weeks after getting fake-engaged?
My stomac h riots at that thought.
“Hey ladies,” Dad says, walking up to the table. “Everything going okay?”
“So far so good,” Winnie says, glancing between my dad and Graham. “Did you guys have a nice time?”
Graham wraps me in his arms and plants a kiss on my forehead. “We did, but I missed Pinky here.”
I pinch his side, and he jerks, casting a playful glare my way. “Would you stop calling me that? My hair isn’t pink anymore.”
“Sadly,” he says aloud, then leans closer to me. “Because you look damn good with pink hair,” he whispers into my ear, causing goosebumps to break out along my arms.
“About that,” Winnie says, tapping her manicured nails on the fold-out table. “Mom, can you grab the bag?”
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Wendy crouches beneath the table, grabs the bag, and hands it to me. “I’m not sure if I got the right color, but I think this would look beautiful on you.”
Graham squeezes my shoulder, lending me confidence as I open it. A box of pink hair dye tumbles out, and I can’t help the gasp that sneaks out. My eyebrows hit my hairline as I stare at my sister and stepmom.
“You want me to dye my hair back? But it’s your wedding.”
Winnie wraps her hand around mine with a soft smile. “I want my wedding pictures to convey who everyone is, and as much as I think you’re gorgeous as a blonde, the pink hair is you. ”
Tears threaten, and I struggle to maintain eye contact with her. I push back the vulnerability and smile. “You sure, sissy?”
She waves me off. “You’ll thank me later.”
Confused by that statement, I read through the directions on the back of the box. Normally, I’d go to my hairstylist to have her redo my pink, but since my hair is already blonde, the pink should adhere fine.
“We can do it after the rehearsal,” Graham says into my ear, and I don’t miss the obvious double entendre in his comment.
Throughout the rest of the hour of setting up, Graham, Jordan, and my dad chat in the corner, lending help whenever we need it.
We take turns getting dressed up for the brunch, and before I know it, guests begin filtering into the room.
I’ve only met a few of Jordan’s friends throughout the years, and most of them are pretty nice.
Tosser, aptly named because he’s British and would always barf after a night out, is my favorite—the two Texas tornados is what my family has taken to calling us.
I try not to wince when I hear the name.
I’m not the wild child bent on destruction anymore, but it feels like that’s what will always follow me.
Graham stays by me the entire time, introducing himself as my fiancé whenever he meets someone new.
I like the sound of that a little too well, if I’m being honest with myself.
His hand never leaves my lower back or shoulder, and he has this way of making me feel comfortable in a place I’ve always felt like an outcast.
“Want another drink?” he asks, nodding to my empty glass.
“Sure, babe.” The endearment slips out before I have a chance to catch it, and of course, Graham hears it clear as day despite the cacophony of voices and music in the background.
“Babe?” His dimples make an appearance, and I’m equally ready to lick them and smack them away. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
I push my cup into his hands. “You know what I want.”
He leans close to my ear and says, “Baby, I’ll give you whatever you want, however you want, when we get back to the rental.”
My core c lenches at the deep purr in his voice, a promise of all the naughty things I’ve been waiting for him to do to me. He leaves me damn near panting as he walks over to the punch bowl, and Winnie’s friends descend the moment he’s away.
“Oh my gosh, Wreck-it-Rosalina.” Moriah, Winnie’s sorority sister grabs my arm. I blanche at her use of the name I received in high school after the arrest. “Graham Miller? How? What? When?”
Their eyes, alight with hunger for any morsel of information, burn my skin.
A dry throat is the least of my worries.
What the hell am I supposed to tell them?
It was all fine and dandy when it was just my family that wanted the nitty gritty of our meeting, but I’d hoped Winnie’s guests would be focused on her, not me. An error on my part.
A clinking over in the corner near the bridal table steals our attention. My dad steps into the middle of the room with a microphone in hand and the girls scatter back to their seats.
“Thank you guys so much for being part of Winnie and Jordan’s big day,” he says before launching into a spiel about how perfect the couple is for each other.
As he prattles on, my gaze floats to Graham.
He’s surrounded by a few men in suits, friends of Jordan’s who came from out of town, and I can tell by the way he’s standing that something is off.
Tension rides his shoulders, inching them up to his neck as he forces a laugh.
The men's voices get clearer the closer I come, and I overhear the reason for Graham's dismay.
"I bet she was wild in bed once you tamed her," one of them says. The comment deals a blow right to my core. I'm the wild child, the kid who couldn't be disciplined and needed to be sent away to save the family more embarrassment.
"Always wanted a crack at her once I— ”
Graham yanks the guy up by the collar, seething. “That’s my fiancée you’re speaking about. I’d think long and hard about the next words that come from your mouth. It’d be a shame to ruin my suit.”
Graham's fingers curl, tightening his hold, nearly choking the guy. A wave of appreciation washes over me. I know it’s a lie, that he’s mine and I am his, but he makes me want us to be real.
The man throws his hands in the air, a sheepish look on his face. "Sorry,” he chokes out. “I meant no harm."
Figuring I’ve let this go on too long, and worried we’re causing a scene, I approach the group.
"Everything okay over here, gentlemen?" I arch a brow as I wrap my hand around Graham's bicep and squeeze.
He releases the man and moves his arm to my shoulder, pulling me close enough I can feel the erratic thumping of his heart.
I place my hand over it and look up at him, hoping to convey how head-over-heels I've fallen for him.
"These gentlemen were just asking about some of the investment options Thompson offers." He kisses the side of my head. "But I'm not sure Thompson will be a good fit for them."
The underlying tension ratchets up at his statement. Graham offered to be my pretend fiancé in exchange for being able to network, but his defense of me is potentially costing him clients. I can't let that happen.
"Oh, I'm sure we can find something for you guys." I slip my hand into my crossbody bag and pull out a card. "Thompson offers so many portfolio options. Shoot us an email and we'll get you set up with someone."
“Thanks.” They take it—as if they could do anything else without looking like complete assholes—and shake our hands before retreating like their asses are on fire.
"That's my fiancée ," I parrot back to Graham, spinning around to face him.
I yelp as he pulls me to him, our hard bodies melding as he stares down at me. "You are my fiancée." He kisses me hard yet unhurried, stroking his tongue along the seam of my lips. "The sooner you and everyone else get used to the fact that you're mine, the better."
I inhale his teakwood scent, basking in the warmth of his arms and the words tumbling from his mouth.
Dad finishes his speech, and we all grab a plate and get in the buffet line.
My mind whirs with thoughts of how tomorrow will go, if everything will go off without a hitch, and what I'll do when I have to go back to work and see Graham and not be able to touch him or kiss him like I can now.
The thought spurs me into action, and I shoot Kieran a text to see if he can set something up for me. I may not have a lifetime with Graham, but I do have tonight and tomorrow, and I'm going to make the most of our time left.