It would be fine—fun even—if there was anyone here getting ready with me. This bridal room is enormous: there’s a cluster of couches on one side, a bar and sink with a minifridge, a single-occupancy bathroom tucked in one corner, its door decorated with a sign bearing a veil and a ring. Barb is somewhere; I can hear her snapping at the staff through the door.
Do you want your friends to come?What Brayden asked me, and I saidnowhen I should have saidyes. Much like I should have saidnowhen Brayden got down on his knee at the bar…
Too late for that now.
If I can’t have fun with a group, I can at least have a good time. I put on music. I sip a little split of champagne and snack from the tray the caterers bring me. I tug on one layer of shapewear and then another, before slipping on my dress.
It’s a column dress, designed to show off every curve. Only I can’t quite reach the zipper to do it up all the way. I struggle for a while, then think about sticking my head into the hallway to see if one of the staff will do me a favor.They’ll think you don’t have friends. Probably because the only person I really know in Atlanta is Brayden, who’s changing in the room next to this one. And I’m not sure I’d even call him a friend.
I knock on the door separating our rooms. A moment later, Brayden answers, wearing a blue suit that makes his eyes look particularly gray, a gleaming white shirt that brings out his tan, a gleaming watch that I know retails for at least twenty grand. His boutonniere is a rose.
“We’re supposed to have peonies,” I say.
He looks down at the boutonniere. “I like roses better.”
“Can you help me with this—” I turn and hold out the back of my dress, the two trailing flaps of fabric that refuse to come together and zip.
Brayden moves in close, tracing his hand up the back of my dress, to where the zipper is supposed to end a few inches below my shoulder blades. “What’s this?” He runs his fingertip under my shapewear as if he’s never seen anything like it before. Given the women he’s photographed with on his Instagram—none of whom Barb would probably bring low-calorie yogurt—it’s possible he hasn’t.
“It makes my dress fit better,” I say.
He tugs at an elastic strap, stretching it then gradually releasing it so it doesn’t snap back. “Can you breathe with this on?”
“Breathing is optional.” I don’t want to say that the shapewear feels like armor against whatever will happen tonight. Barb has invited every single one of Brayden’s cousins along with half their church.
Beyond that, the Peaches played a day game today against the Boston Monsters, so the entire Atlanta team is coming, along with their wives and girlfriends, which I’m excited about. That also means Asher is coming. Or at least, he is if Brayden actually invited him.He might not even come. He probably isn’t thinking about you.Except for that on-field fight…
The night after the fight, Brayden had gone out and came home even later than normal. I didn’t ask why and he didn’t volunteer, but the next day Asher was back playing first base and Brayden was riding the bench.
I could ask now. Instead, I wait as Brayden holds both sides of the fabric. I expect him to wrench the zipper shut as quickly as possible, but instead he draws it up, tooth by tooth, slowly enough that I barely realize when he’s done.
“There.” His voice is very near my ear, breath warm. He doesn’t draw back and I don’t move away, either. This feels like when he put my necklace on at the wedding, except this time I’m not stomping on his foot or telling him to keep his distance. “That dress is…” he begins.
That dress is what? Too tight? Too colorful? It’s a bright purple selected specifically to piss off Barb.
Brayden doesn’t finish the sentence. Instead, he spins me around, his hands at either side of my waist. “You should kiss me,” he says.
I take an instinctive step back, but Brayden tightens his grip. “What?” I ask.
“We’re going to have to go out there—” He glances toward the door to indicate where the party will be taking place.
Right. We’re newlyweds. People will be tapping their glasses all night to command us to kiss. We haven’t since the wedding. In fact, Brayden’s touched me more in the past five minutes than he has since we said our vows. We shouldn’t look like we’re newto this. It makes total sense why we need to kiss each other. Yet, that doesn’t stop my heart beating fast against my ribs.
“Fine,” I say with more confidence than I feel. “But no tongue.”
Brayden smirks at that. “Who said anything about tongue?” He runs his hand under my chin, tilting up my jaw. Leans down, lips almost touching mine. But he holds off at the last second, our mouths less than an inch away from each other.You should kiss me, is what he said.
My heels are high. Still, I need to rise on my tiptoes to close the last centimeter between us. I’m unsteady on my toes, in a dress that doesn’t allow me to take a full breath. In this sham of a marriage that, right at this second, doesn’t quite feel like a lie.
His arms wind around me—firm, but not tight, hands at the top of my waist but drifting no further below. At our wedding, he kissed me like he wanted to possess me. Here he’s the one making me work.
I kiss him, lips sealed shut, barely more than a peck. A kiss that probably fools no one. I should be grateful he’s respectful of my boundaries. That, despite everything else about him, he’s been nothing but a gentleman to me since I saidyes. But I don’t want a gentleman right now. I want someone who’ll kiss me and act like it isn’t a chore.
My lips part, unbidden, and Brayden smiles into the kiss, that familiar grin I can practically taste. “I thought you said?—”
I cut him off. “We need to beconvincing.”
Brayden hitches me closer. My dress has a front slit in it to allow me clearance to walk. His hand drops from my waist to between the folds of fabric, the shock of his bare palm against the bare skin of my thigh. He draws my leg up, pressed against his hip, the two of us closer than we’ve ever been, close enough that I can feel every inch of him through the layers of fabric and elastic that, right now, feel like they’re holding me in.
