Nick’s hand was firm on my waist, anchoring me as we posed. I tried not to feel anything. I tried not to want anything. But then hetilted my chin toward him and kissed me again, slower this time, sweeter. I felt my ribcage stretch around my lungs as my heart beat against it like a war drum.
He pulled away just enough to look into my eyes, and I nearly forgot how to exist.
“That’s it, show me the love,” the photographer said.
God, he was dangerous. That tousled black hair, that golden-olive skin that made his green eyes practically glow, that smile—his smile—it didn’t feel like a trick. It felt like a secret only I got to keep. A smile that didn’t scare me. One that whispered safety and sincerity. And maybe even something like… affection.
The photographer packed up. “I’ll get these photos to you in a day or two,” she said, then turned and winked, “Congratulations. Y’all are gonna make beautiful babies.”
The laughter I’d been choking on finally burst free as soon as she disappeared. I doubled over, clutching my stomach.
Nick looked over at me, amused. “Is that funny?”
I could barely get words out. “Yeah, I mean—this whole thing,” I said, twirling in a circle. “I can’t believe people actually get married here.”
His jaw tensed. “What? Because it’s not some hundred-thousand-dollar gala your parents paid for, it’s a joke of a wedding?”
I flinched. The softness between us vanished.
“No,” I said, my voice quieter. “Not the money. The situation. It’s just… so damn cheesy. If I were getting married for real, I’d want my mom here. I’d want her to celebrate with me. Wouldn’t you?”
“If it were real, yeah. That’s why we’ve gotta do all we can to make it look real.”
He pulled out his phone. “Speaking of moms, I should probably call mine—because if this were real, that’s the first thing I’d do. You should call yours, too. Now that we’re officially hitched, we’ve gotta sell this thing like it’s the real deal.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and cursed myself for opening my mouth. “Fine,” I muttered, pulling out my phone.
As I walked off, I heard him speaking rapid Italian to his mom.The sound made my heart squeeze. I called my mom, anxiety crawling up my throat. When she didn’t answer, I exhaled in relief, then hung up before I could leave a message. When I turned around, Nick was still talking, so I brought the phone to my ear and faked it—imagining what it would feel like to tell my mom I married the love of my life. Not the current version of her, but the one who used to care. The one who chose me.
He hung up, and I followed suit.
“So, how’d it go?” he asked, casually, but his eyes studied me.
“Good,” I said too fast.
He raised an eyebrow, that maddeningly sexy smirk pulling at his lips. “Really?”
I swallowed. “Yup. She was shocked, but busy. I told her I’d fill her in later.” Lies, all of it, but they rolled off my tongue too easily.
“That’s good. My mom wants to murder me. She said we’d better throw a proper celebration when we’re back. No son of hers sneaks off and marries without her and my sister there.”
I laughed softly. “Tell me again you’re not a mama’s boy?”
He gave me a look. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. Most women want a man who knows how to treat a woman.”
“Unless she’s marrying him. Then it’s a red flag if the umbilical cord’s still attached.”
“I’m not a mama’s boy. I’m just not a dick. There’s a difference.”
“Just calling it how I see it.”
He pulled out a cigarette, and I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? You’re smoking right now?”
“Yeah. You’re already stressing me out—and we just got married.”
“Let’s not forget—this was your idea. If you think we can’t pull it off, we can rip up the license now.”
He exhaled smoke, unfazed. “Little late for that.”
