“Don’t let it go to your head,” I say.
Theo grins like only a brother can. Then he turns and shoves me directly into the pool.
9
SARAH
In this,the age of the internet, Carter and I decided we are unlikely to convince anyone we’re actually in love enough to get married without photographic proof, so tonight, he’s coming over for a photoshoot. Well, dinner first andthena photoshoot.
Nothing too fancy or professional. Just Anna and her iPhone. We only need them to work for Instagram, and she’ll be able to handle that. But I’m still having a terrible time deciding what to wear. Anna said I need multiple outfits so it isn’t obvious all the photos were taken at the same time, but I can’t even come up with one.
Not to mention my hair. Should I wear it up or down? Glasses or contacts? These shouldn’t feel like monumental choices, but I can’t shake the feeling that if I get this wrong, this whole scheme will come crumbling down around me.
I reach into the back of my closet and pull out a box of sweaters I haven’t touched since I got here. The one on the top looks decent, so I shrug it on.
Annnndno, it doesn’t look decent. I look like a square tomato.
I yank off the sweater and toss it onto the floor, then scoop up the pile of options I’ve amassed on my bed and carry it over to the main house in my jeans and tank top, my feet bare. The winter air nips at my exposed skin, but it’s a short walk around the pool. Honestly, I’m surprised I don’t fall in—I can hardly see over all the clothes I’m carrying—but I make it without incident and let myself into the kitchen, kicking the door closed behind me.
“I give up,” I say as I drop the clothes onto the kitchen table. “I am completely incapable of making myself look hot enough to actually be married to a hockey player. He’s going to look incredible, and I’m going to look like a bridge troll in glasses that are too big for my face. And do you see this?” I point at my forehead. “This beach ball of a zit showed up this morning because of course it did. The one time I actuallyneedto look good in a photo, I look like I’m seventeen and struggling with my T-zone.”
Anna bites her lip like she’s trying really,reallyhard not to laugh. “Okay, maybe just take a breath,” she says. “And…” She clears her throat. “Say hi to Carter?”
I freeze, mortification making me all but completely immobile. I give my head the tiniest shake. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Anna grimaces. “Not joking.”
I turn slowly, and there he is. Standing in the living room with Miles, looking every bit as gorgeous as I expected he would.
Heat spreads across my chest, and my heart starts pounding.
He’s here.
And he just heard every single word of my rant right down to the mention of my T-zone.
“You’re early,” I say.
He glances at his watch. “Am I?”
I pull my phone out of my back pocket and stare at the screen. It’s 6:40, which makes zero sense because the wall clock in my bedroom said it was 5:45 when I left the pool house.
Come to think of it, itisa little dark to still be 5:45.
Stupid clock. It must need new batteries. I’ve been so caught up in my own brain, I didn’t even notice.
“Okay, so you’renotearly,” I say. “But I am very much late.”
Luckily, Anna comes to my rescue. “You know what? We’re going to figure this out.” She turns me toward the table and hoists the pile of clothes back into my arms before steering me toward her bedroom. “Miles, can you finish dinner?”
“I’ll help you, Daddy,” Poppy says. The last thing I see before disappearing down the hall is Carter lifting Olive into his arms.
“Well, that was a fun little freakout,” Anna says as soon as we’re alone.
I drop the clothes onto her bed, then faceplant beside the pile, groaning into her mattress. “I can’t believe that just happened.”
“If it’s any consolation, you looked adorable through the whole thing.”
I roll over and look up at her. “I doubt he even noticed. How could he notice anything but the giant zumor on my forehead?”
