I’m so scared I’m going to screw this up, so I just blurt everything out and get it over with. “That’s actually what we wanted to talk to you about tonight.” My eyes fix on Alba. “Will you be my maid of honor…in a few weeks?”
“What thewhat?” Easton practically yells, tearing the Saints beanie off his head and flinging it to the floor.
Alba is stunned silent.Her eyes bounce back and forth between Lincoln and me.
“Yeah, and I’m gonna need you to be my best man.” Lincoln addresses his brother before Alba can even respond to my question.
“The best man? For a wedding? A wedding for you two? Like, you and Jules are engaged? To be married? Y’mean,I doanduntil deathand all that? I’m not beingPunk’d, right?” Easton is spewing out so many questions that it’s hard not to laugh.
He’s right, though. Thisisabsurd.
Alba trades a skeptical look with her man.Then she leans in conspiratorially, lowering her voice like she’s trying to tell me a secret. “Are you pregnant, hun? Because you know marriage isn’t always the answer. You know I’d be there for you, one hundred percent.” She looks at Lincoln and cringes. “No offense, though.”
My groom-to-be casually takes a gulp of his ginger ale. “None taken. But she’s not pregnant. At least, not that we know of,” he adds, turning to me with a wink. Even though I know he’s putting on a show, it makes my stomach do a fluttery somersault.
Lincoln and I have only had one (unfinished) night together. One. But somehow it’s always right there in the front of my mind, mocking me. Teasing me. Begging to make a repeat visit.
I know that our marriage contract rules out physical affection behind closed doors, but more and more, I just want to drag Lincoln to my bedroom and finish what we started the night of the housewarming party.
Scooting my office chair closer to his, I stare lovingly at my fiancé as I speak. “In all seriousness though, this is the real deal. I know it seems sudden, but we’re all getting older, and when you know, you know. A long engagement just doesn’t make sense to us.”
Lincoln gently strokes my upper arm. I try not to jump when he touches me, but every time he does, it’s like being electrocuted.Instead of getting up and running for the hills, I nuzzle my head against Lincoln’s shoulder and smile real wide.
Alba gives her head a brisk shake. “Wow. Okay. Congrats, you two. I’m sorry I didn’t start with that.”
“Yeah, brother. You definitely caught us off guard here. But I’m honored to be considered for the best man duties. If you’re sure about everything?”
“Absolutely.” Lincoln nods.
“You know I’m there for whatever you need,” Alba says to me. “Maid of honor duties. A crying shoulder. Burying a body.” She sends Lincoln a dirty look.
“Duly noted,” he mutters, squirming a little in his seat.
“So, tell us, how did this all happen?” Easton asks, pointing his finger between us.
“Yeah, especially since you two seemed to hate each other not so long ago.” Alba pulls a pillow into her lap and gets comfortable, like she’s waiting for story time.
“It was the hate sex,” Lincoln quips, grinning from ear to ear.
I elbow him hard in the ribs. “It wasnot. We just…realized we had a lot more in common than we thought.”
“Didn’t you, like, hate Jules’s T-shirt ideas?” Easton asks. “I remember you gawking at the phrases she’d put on them. It was like you were personally offended.”
Well, this is news to me. I don’t like it.
I turn my head and stab Lincoln with eye-daggers.
“Wh-what? No,” my fake fiancé stutters. “I think Jules’s T-shirts are great. Snarky. Funny.”
One of Alba’s eyebrows lifts. “Oh yeah? Which design is your favorite?”
Oh boy, she’s testing him. This isn't good.
Lincoln starts snapping his fingers, glancing at me. “That one…that blue one…that one you wore yesterday. It says something about…”
Alba waits, letting Lincoln doggie-paddle before he drowns.
“The one that says…um, I think it says…Or could it be the one that says…um, you know…?”Lincoln does one last finger snap before glancing at my boobs. “This one she’s wearing now.A little morning wood makes the morning good.”
