A hot, stupid spike of jealousy jabs me right under the ribs.
You’re ridiculous.
He’s helping her because of the wedding, because chaos impacts Natalie, because he’s fundamentally a decent human being who fixes things. Not because he wants to be within ten feet of the woman who tried to set him up for a scandal with me. And probably for the same reason why I’m helping out—to catch Blake and her in their affair. Logically, I know this.
My lizard brain, however, sees his broad shoulders angled towards her, the focused line of his jaw, and wants to throw the Costco-sized box of condoms at his head.
Professionalism, Cooper.
I mentally hiss at myself, tightening my grip on the overwhelming amount of tulle.
You are a paid operative. He is your fake boyfriend/co-conspirator/accidental sex god.
Do not be the deranged raccoon in this Michelin-starred dumpster fire.
I plaster on what I hope is a vaguely pleasant, uninvolved expression and try to slink past.
Ten minutes later.
My phone buzzes.
West:Where are you?
I stare at the screen. He was literally just with Scarlett. Why is he texting me?
ME:Running errands. Why?
West:Haven't seen you since brunch. Miss you.
My stupid heart does a stupid flip.
ME:You were just talking to Scarlett.
West:About a missing floral delivery. Riveting stuff. When can I see you?
ME:Later. I'm working.
West:Fine. When do I get you back?
ME:Later. I’m still working.
West:Then I’ll wait.
West:Try not to vanish again. I don’t like not knowing where you are.
Heat crawls up my neck.
I shove my phone in my pocket before I can respond.
Before I can say something dangerous like "I'm counting on it" or "I can't wait"
At five PM, the bridal group gathers at the ceremony site for a first look at what’s been erected for the main event. It’s breathtaking—PinterestTop 10 Dream Beach Weddingworthy.
White chairs fan out in gentle arcs across pristine sand, facing a driftwood arch draped in flowing ivory silk and bursting with tropical blooms. Just beyond, turquoise water laps softly at the shore as the sun begins its slow descent, painting everything in warm gold and coral.
Natalie stands under the arch, radiant in a flowing white sundress, beaming at her parents. Blake is beside her, one arm slung loosely around her shoulders, a fresh drink already in his other hand. He looks bored. Scarlett stands nearby, tablet clutched like a shield, her expression professionally serene. But I see the tension in her jaw.
West joins me by my side, his hand brushes my back.
