Page 43 of The Snuggle Is Real

Fifteen years and a night like last night and nope, sorry. That’s not going to work.

Em thinks Wanted looks like a movie town?

Well, she’s going to get her grand gesture, roll the credits moment.

Chapter Eleven

Emily

The reception is in the town square. Just the whole damn town square. I’ve seen a lot in my career, but this is a first.

Just taking over a town for a wedding.

I cried during the ceremony and Malcolm saw. Which means he’s going to hunt me down at the reception and demand I explain to him why I’m being weird.

The truth is, I am being weird, and the truth is, I don’t know why.

Or I know why and I just don’t want to admit it—I’m scared.

I like to control things because of fear but if Malcolm and I change our relationship I can’t control the outcome.

And the thought of not having him in my life knocks the wind out of me.

I wander around the square, which is set up similarly to the festival, with tables piled with Sweet Thang desserts and booths for fresh-squeezed lemonade and funnel cake. There is a Four Brothers bourbon bar set up on one end, and a full bar on the other for cocktail hour.

The wedding party is off somewhere taking photos so I have a reprieve.

Then feel melancholy because I’m not seeing Malcolm.

In other words, I’m a mess.

In the enormous dinner tent, I’m three tables away from the head table. I watch the bridesmaids and the groomsmen enter the tent, cheering and some dancing. Malcolm strides, of course.

But he winks at me as he goes past my table.

Instantly I feel heat in my cheeks. Malcolm has never once winked at me.

I kind of like it.

That you-and-me connection.

I watch Malcolm through the salad course. He talks to MacKay and Cash. He laughs at something his father says when he stops by his chair. He doesn't look my way again.

Probably because I was weird. Because weird actually was me pulling away and I hate that I did that.

I screamed when he saw me naked after he’d seen me naked and in all kinds of compromising positions literally hours earlier.

Taking a sip of my champagne, I realize I’m breaking my no alcohol before dancing rule.

But I’ve been following rules my whole life and what has it got me?

Maybe some rules are meant to be broken. I toss back the rest of the glass so fast the woman sitting next to me eyeballs me. “You okay?” she asks.

She’s one of the football players’ wives. A brunette with glasses and a knowing, sympathetic expression.

“I’m about to be.” I stand up, bolstered by bubbles and bling and the putting the F in fall.

I’m going to tell Malcolm I’m in love with him, consequences be damned.