“Well, I can’t exactly speak poorly about arranged marriages, can I?”
Riley chuckles. “No.”
I glance back at Derek. He’s practicing butterflies now. I didn’t know he could be this soft. Usually, he’s got three girls hanging off each arm. Kind of typical though that the one he wants is the one who isn’t interested in him. “Guy’s got a hero complex, huh?” I say but then Coach’s whistle cuts through again, and thankfully we return to our positions.
TWENTY-SIX
Jenna (Release Bonus Scene)
RILEY AND LIORA’S WEDDING
The church smells like eucalyptus, expensive perfume, and the kind of stress that settles in your rib cage and refuses to leave. Colton missed to mention that accompanying him to Liora and Riley’s wedding was part of the fake-marriage package, which feels like a pretty significant oversight considering this is our first freaking public appearance as husband and wife.Fake husband and wife.Technically.
His friends know the truth. But the press doesn’t. Neither do the hundreds of guests packed shoulder to shoulder inside the cathedral, every pew overflowing, every head tilted toward the aisle as if we’re about to witness the coronation of New York royalty instead of Riley Huntington getting married.
I sit stiffly between Priya and Ethan like the unfortunate filling in a very attractive sandwich. My borrowed heels are actively trying to amputate my toes, but escape isn’t an option. Not for another hour and forty minutes, approximately. Ceremony, family photos, waiting around while Colton fulfills his groomsman obligations.
Meaning I’m trapped here.
Playing the role of Mrs. King.
And apparently I’m terrible at it.
Because how exactly does one behave like a wife? Do I need to gaze at him adoringly every five minutes? Smile every time he looks at me? Touch his arm? Laugh at things that aren’t funny? Okay, technically, he never says things thataren’tfunny. The man is annoyingly funny. So why am I panicking? Talking to Colton has never been hard before. We’ve spent hours trading sarcasm and insults and weirdly specific debates about kitchen utensils. Communication has never been the problem before. So why does attending this wedding together suddenly feel like defusing a bomb?
How do married people exist in public without looking deeply unwell?
God.
Not that I’d know.
My family was never exactly a glowing example of domestic bliss. There wasn’t much healthy relationship behavior lying around for observational purposes.
Still. I need to pull myself together.
I’m his wife now.
Fake wife. Heavy emphasis on fake.
Priya leans closer, her dark caramel-highlighted waves brushing against my shoulder. “Relax,” she whispers. “Whatever catastrophic spiral is currently happening inside your gorgeous little brain, nobody’s looking at you two. Today’s about Riley and Liora.”
She threads her fingers through mine, warm and grounding, and I smile despite myself. Priya has this terrifyingly effective calming presence. One look into her deep brown eyes and suddenly your blood pressure lowers against your will.
“You’re right,” I murmur. “It’s just... our first day doing this in public.”
She nods knowingly. “Colton’s nervous too. But everyone probably assumes it’s because he’s one of Riley’s best men and this wedding is basically the social event of the century.”
As if my brain needed encouragement, my eyes drift toward him again.
And—Yeah. That was a mistake.
The charcoal-gray suit should honestly qualify as psychological warfare. It fits him obscenely well, all sharp tailoring and broad shoulders and quiet confidence. Like the designer took one look at Colton and decided the rest of humanity deserved to suffer.
But it’s the tiny twitch in his left eyebrow that catches me.
Most people wouldn’t notice it.
I do.
