“That’s fine by me,” Sophie said.
Tarryn nodded.
“Gotcha. I’ll give a short introduction about marriage—we want this to feel real, to make the punters get the weepy-in-love factor, then go straight to the do-you-take-this-woman part. Are you having rings?”
“No rings,” Tarryn said.
“Then you’ll kiss—are you going to kiss?” George looked from Tarryn to Sophie and back again.
Tarryn glanced at Sophie. Her gaze was downcast, but there was a slight smile on her lips.
“We’ll kiss,” Sophie said. “It’s got to look real, right? Are you okay with that, Tarryn?”
Sophie wanted to kiss her again. Her heart thumped erratically at the thought.
“Sure.” Tarryn slanted a glance at Sophie.
A connection, sweet and fine, leaped into life between them. Sophie’s gaze had her trapped, and she couldn’t look away. She didn’t want to look away. Her fingers twitched with the need to reach out, take Sophie’s hand, and stroke her thumb over the soft-looking skin on the inside of her wrist. Another kiss? Hell, yeah.
“We’ll run through the entire ceremony,” George said. “That’s why I’m here.”
Tarryn’s blood thrummed. She’d get that kiss sooner than she thought. And another after that. And then, well, that was up to them.
Jason indicated the room where the chairs and tables were pushed back to make an open space. “We’re ready.”
Sophie slanted a gaze at Phyll. “When was this arranged? I wasn’t aware we were doing this now.”
Phyll harrumphed. “Thought one of you would make an excuse and bail. Best not to give you the opportunity.”
“I’m a professional. Tarryn lives here. We both want this to work.” Sophie’s cool gaze sliced into Phyll, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
“Phyll and I are the audience,” Jason said. “George, you stand by the bar. Sophie and Tarryn…you’ll enter one from each side of the stage and come to stand in front of George.”
Tarryn stuck her hands in her pockets and sauntered off to the other side of the pretend stage. Thoughts of the practice kiss had her lit, but right now, self-consciousness and unease were winning. Was she expected to glide delicately with sparkling eyes and a lovestruck expression?Good luck with that.
George stood in front of the bar, a sturdy figure in her black biker gear. She extended a hand to each of them.
“Tarryn and Sophie.”
Tarryn arranged her face into what she hoped was a loving smile and strode across to George. A quick glance at Sophie showed her walking in a slow and stately fashion, her tiny steps almost soundless on the wooden floor. Her gaze was fixed on Tarryn, and she wore a soft smile.
She reached George and placed her hand in hers.
“Stop.” Phyll shook her head. “Sophie, you were lovely. Tarryn dear, can you at least try to look like you want to be there? You’re marrying the love of your life. Aim to reach George at the same time as Sophie, and then you both place your hands in hers.”
Okay, she could do this. Tarryn turned on her heel and went back to the side of the stage.
George extended her hands with a flourish. “Tarryn and Sophie.”
With a quick glance at Sophie, Tarryn tried to match her slow pace, but it turned into an ungainly sort of shuffle, as she stared at her feet trying to minimise their natural stride. At least they both reached George at the same time and placed their hands in hers.
“Friends, we are gathered here today to witness the marriage of Tarryn and Sophie.” George drew them closer and placed Sophie’s hand in Tarryn’s.
The touch of her skin was almost a physical shock. Soft, warm, and trembling ever so slightly, as if with the nerves of a real marriage.
“Better,” Phyll said, “but Tarryn, you looked like you were walking to your doom. Can you at least smile?”
“I am smiling,” said Tarryn through gritted teeth.
