At the sound of Oliver’s skeptical voice, I jolt, looking up to find his unimpressed eyes bouncing from me to the television screen and back again.
“Sure…” I grumble with a shrug, letting my attention drop to my phone again.
He leans back in the armchair and tiredly shakes his head. He scrubs a palm down his face. “Can’t believe I drove eight hours for this.”
I shove the pretzels across the coffee table at him. “Shut up. Eat.”—I mutter under my breath—“So I can go back to my panic attack in peace.”
Don’t get me wrong—I’m grateful that my youngest brother made the trip out here for my wedding. If nothing else, it’s niceto have a bit of company sitting here now as my guilt eats me up from the inside out.
Oliver and I are in Easton’s living room, drinking lukewarm beer and eating stale pretzels we found at the back of the pantry. Easton and Rocco went into town to find real food. In the meantime, my thumb swipes aimlessly at my screen and I try not to hyperventilate at the fact that I’m getting married tomorrow.
Me. Married. Tomorrow. To a woman who openly hates me. And she has good reasons, too.
Man—I was a jackass to her last night. In too many ways to count.
Telling Jules I care about her was my first mistake.Duh. I was supposed to keep that shit to myself.
Then I kissed her.
Then I fucked her.
Couple all that with the fact that I immediately shut down after we had sex? I made her feel like a mistake. She probably thinks I just used her to get off.
See? Jackass.
But she’s all wrong about my intentions. True, I pulled away from her the minute the sex was over. But it killed me. Because I didn’t want to pull away. I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her over and over again, all night.
My behavior was a knee-jerk reaction.
When I originally came up with this scheme to marry Jules, it was solely a business deal. I bought the ring. I drafted up the contract. I convinced Jules to go along with this crazy plot. It was supposed to be a means to an end for us both.
But here’s the thing. Some strange feelings are starting to take root here, and they’re scaring the shit out of me.
It feels like everything is changing. Now, my attraction to Jules is becoming overwhelming. I can’t control how much I want her. Every minute of every day.
But this is something more than just a physical attraction. I can’t quite describe it. It’s a feeling I can’t quite put my finger on.
It’s the way I always need to know that she’s all right. The urge I feel to comfort her when she’s not. The need to fix whatever’s wrong in her world just so I get to see her wicked little grin.
Last night, I didn’t make her smile, though. I did the opposite. And I feel like shit about that.
Why am I such a fool? All I had to do was follow the rules. The rules I typed up myself in black and white, right there in clause four of our marriage contract.
…the parties shall refrain from engaging in any form of physical intimacy behind closed doors.
Yet, there I was, kissing her and touching her, sinking deep inside her tight, wet, hot—
The front door swings open, smacking into the wall and making me jump. Rocco stampedes inside. “Come on, boys. We’re going to the Fairy Bush Wing Feast!” He waves a bunch of colorful flyers in the air.
“Thewhat…?” I grumble, glaring in his direction.
Easton stumbles into the house with a chicken wing in each hand and sauce all over his mouth. “There’s this festival happening downtown right now. So much food,” he groans, tearing into the meat. “So…much…food…”
I’m already shaking my head. “I’m not in the mood for big crowds right now.” Big crowds and silent pre-wedding mental breakdowns don’t mix.
Rocco grunts, slapping my shoulder. “Come on, man. It’s the day before your wedding. Cameron and Jagger are hanging out with Mom. Your future wife is running around town with her bridesmaids having a blast. This is your last chance to let loose before you’re a married man again. Make the most of today.”
Oliver snatches a flyer out of Rocco’s hand and his eyes scan the information. “Local vendors participating?” he murmurs as he reads.
