Garrett stood and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. “I wouldn’t worry too much. We’re all forgetting it’s down to the popular vote. Whoever gets the most votes on Friday will be our couple.”
“True,” Kirra said. “It’s likely to be Garrett and Will. After all, the whole town can vote, and not everyone knows Sophie. It could still be one of the couples who volunteered.”
Tarryn allowed herself to relax a little. That was true. Why would anyone vote for a stranger? And her friends surely wouldn’t vote for her as they knew her anti-marriage views. No, it would be Garrett and Will, or maybe Euli and Bernice, the sistergirls.
“So,” Phyll said, “are we all agreed we let the popular vote stand?”
Tarryn nodded along with everyone else.
“And if, by chance, the popular vote picks Tarryn and Sophie, then you two agree to do it?”
Tarryn frowned. She could smell week-old fish here. Garrett and Kirra looked neutral, certainly not like they were plotting anything. But what could they do? They could hardly influence the whole town. “Who’s counting the vote?”
“We haven’t decided yet,” Sophie said.
“I’ll do it,” Phyll said. “Will one of you volunteer to check it?”
“I will.” If she checked it, she’d know there was no set up by her friends. No conniving, no shuffling of votes from pile to pile. “How hard can this be? It’s hardly the US presidential election.”
“As long as no one claims afterward the vote is stolen,” Garrett said. “So, are we agreed? Phyll and Tarryn will count the vote, and if, by chance, Tarryn and Sophie are the winners, they’ll do the dirty deed.”
“It’s the wedding we’re talking about, not the wedding night,” Jason said with a wink.
Sophie’s horrified face jammed into Tarryn’s vision. So, she was unappealing enough that Sophie looked like she’d rather eat worms than do any sort of deed—dirty or otherwise—with her? She pushed away the thought that she wouldn’t turn down the chance to get Sophie underneath her and to taste those plump, pink lips. To see exactly how Miss Perfect was when she was naked. “I agree,” she said coolly. “Sophie?”
Sophie’s lips twisted. “I suppose so. Given it’s unlikely we’d win.”
“Great.” Garrett rubbed his hands together. “Now, is there anything else? I have to go to Byron Bay once we’re done. Will wants me to source squid ink for some gastronomic creation he wants to make for dinner.”
“We’re done.” Jason stood. “Thank you for coming.”
“Myself or Tarryn will let you know about the stage and the portaloos,” Sophie said.
Tarryn mentally rolled her eyes. That job had her name written all over it. She sighed. Sometimes, Sophie seemed less than experienced at this event planning business.
Chapter 10
Allie closed the door toKirra’s apartment with a sigh and plodded up the stairs. What a morning. What a terrible morning. She threw herself on the couch. She’d been winging it in the past few days, but nothing as nail-biting as this morning. What stage? She couldn’t remember anything about a stage in Sophie’s folder…but there had to be one. She didn’t think Sophie would have forgotten something that important. And the portaloos…she knew she’d seen them on Tarryn’s to-do list. She definitely remembered a second email; she’d have to find it.
And then the whole fake-wedding thing. Damn Garrett and his inspired ideas. There was no way she could stand next to Tarryn and marry her. Fake-marry her, she amended. She was needed for her supposed event planning skills, not her negligible acting ones. Although maybe her acting ability would be better.
For a second, she imagined herself up on stage, her hand in Tarryn’s, both of them dressed in…in what? Tarryn would probably pick a tux, and she would… Her mind went blank. She had no idea what she’d wear, but it wouldn’t be a white dress and a veil. That would be for any real wedding she may have. She pictured turning to Tarryn, clasping hands and saying marriage vows.
“And you may kiss the bride.” Her mind went white. Would she have to kiss Tarryn? Something long buried uncoiled in her stomach. The feel of a woman’s lips on her own. Soft, smiling, tasting of white wine—the only time she’d kissed a woman. Yes, she’d told Sophie it had been an experiment, one she’d liked, but, really, she preferred kissing men. She’d acknowledged the other options, ones marked bisexual or pansexual, but the need to keep one thing for herself, separate from her sister, was strong.
She and Sophie were so alike in most things— in ways that went deeper than simply their preference for chicken salt over plain. They’d been each other’s rock since their parents split, and she could confidently state how Sophie would react in most things. Sophie was a lesbian. Allie was straight. Men were her thing. Women were Sophie’s.
And had been, from way back in school, when she’d gone on that date with Wallis—Ellis—Simpson in Sophie’s place. Their friends used their sexualities to differentiate them: Sophie was the gay twin. Allie was the straight one. Ying and Yang. Separate, but strong together. Being straight was part of her identity.
Tarryn’s handsome face swam into her mind: high cheekbones, her prematurely grey hair, her dark eyes that could dance with mischief as they had at dinner with Garrett and Will or could be cold like granite as they were earlier this morning. And her lips.
Would she kiss Tarryn if the playacting called for it? She’d have to; she’d agreed. And she already knew that like the long-ago kiss with a woman, she’d like it.
Enough.Allie pushed those thoughts from her mind. That would never happen. The popular vote would go to others, someone local and known in town. Not to her, and not to Tarryn. Right now, she had other problems to deal with.
She turned on her laptop and went to her email, clicking into the folder of emails Sophie had forwarded to her about Quandong. A quick search found the original to-do list that Tarryn remembered receiving, and then the second one, a day later. She opened it and looked at the email address.Oh no. There was a typo in the address. Tarryn wouldn’t have received it. Sophie must have typed it in directly, maybe from her phone, and got it wrong.Crap.There was the request for Tarryn to hire the portaloos set out in black and white—and no doubt in some mail server’s undeliverable pile. Why hadn’t Sophie seen the bounce? The only other thing in the email was a request to source a florist to provide flowers for the fake wedding. Luckily, that was all. At least there hadn’t been ‘hire stage’ written there.
Stage.
