Page 29 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Mayhem of Honor

Dex, Freddie, Mom, her new boy toy, George, and I sit at a table eating breakfast the next morning under the shade of a palm tree. My floppy hat shields my face where the proof of a hangover lingers. This past week has included more alcohol than I’ve drank in my entire life.

Across the pool deck, Sophia hosts a brunch under a tent for her guests. Somehow, I’ve managed to fly under her radar, but that’s not the case with Roman. When he spots me, he leaves the gathering and beelines in our direction.

Unsure of what kind of storm he’ll bring, I slip on my sunglasses as if they’ll protect me. I’m not up for his crap today.

“You’re dating a stripper!” Roman yells when he reaches our table.

Mom spits out her drink. Tomato juice spews across George’s white guayabera. He stands with napkin in hand, dabbing at the red stains.

I’m not sure why she’s reacting this way. Isn’t this what she read online about Nathan?

“Nathan’s a stripper?” Dex’s fork halts in midair.

Freddie dances in his chair. “Could he teach me some moves?”

Our waiter places a drink in front of me.

Automatically, I say, “Oh, I didn’t order a⁠—”

“A mango milkshake sent from the gentleman at the bar.”

Everyone follows the direction of the waiter’s outstretched hand. On the other side of the pool deck, wearing what seems to be his signature surfer-boy outfit and a straw hat, Nathan waves.

With a grin on my face, I lift my milkshake and toast him.

Roman’s face drains of blood.

“You think dating a stripper is funny?” Roman asks, his hands waving.

I take a sip, thoughts of the previous night tickling my mind.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lean back, completely relaxed and unbothered.

Nathan was right. The more I enjoy myself, the more unraveled Roman becomes. I vow to continue on this path. It’s working.

“Do you really expect me to believe you’re dating that guy?” Roman gestures in Nathan’s direction.

“Jealous?” I grin and bite my straw.

Perhaps sensing I need him, Nathan appears.

“Hey, man, wild bachelorette party last night. Sorry you missed it.” He grasps Roman’s shoulder and gives it a friendly shake.

Roman scoffs as Nathan beams. He’s come to stir the pot. I read his intentions in his sly, malice-laced expression.

He slides behind me, sweeps my hair aside, and places a warm kiss on my shoulder near my clavicle. A detonation of tingles spread from the point of contact down my arm. My knee bounces under the table to dispel the shivers.

Everyone at the table analyzes us with rapt attention.

I do my best not to react, like a man kissing my neck in such a sensual way is normal. It is not, because the number of times a man has kissed me anywhere near that spot is zero. Never. Nathan is good at highlighting little things I’ve missed out on.

Then I stop myself before I head down this road of thought. It’s too easy to get lost in our spicy charade.

“You were saying?” I say, provoking Roman, and his hands curl into tight balls at his sides.

Nathan settles beside me and steals food from my plate. He takes a bite of toast and kicks back casually in his chair as if he’s completely comfortable with the family. He should win an Oscar for his acting abilities. I place a hand on his knee, and like a call to action, he leans closer.