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“I promise I’m strong enough for us both.”
I promise...
The words ring in my ears with such conviction that I believe him despite my heart’s warning that men’s promises are as good as no promise at all.
I believe my burly lumberjack because I... because I trust him, and I think I... love him?
Suddenly, I’m not freefalling. I’m floating, drifting down towards my savior. No. Co-savior, because now my wings are working, stabilizing me as if they know they finally have help.
As I drift closer, he catches me possessively, his big body leaning into me so slowly that I can feel his soft breaths tickling my lips. Supporting me with one arm, he uses his free hand to gently pull a curl from my face, his gaze electric.
That’s what’s buzzing through me now. Pure electricity, like dozens of buzzing butterflies that are igniting every nerve ending within me. My whole body tingles as warmth snowballs in my chest in anticipation of our first kiss.
And just as our lips touch, I wake up.
I blink, squinting in the sunlight and drifting through my hotel suite’s sheer curtains. It’s a hotel, not a motel like I’m accustomed to. It’s massive, with an ensuite and more than enough room for Connie to stay overnight with me.
I’m grateful for the company because it’s the first night I’ve slept without Zander. Well, that’s not entirely true. I made him stay on a video call with me most of last night, though he barely spared me a glance. Cole’s his best buddy now.
Not that I can even blame him. Since Zander paid me zero attention, I spent my time searching the screen for a shirtless, sweatpants-wearing Cole who drifted in and out of the background.
At one point, Zander asked me if I was sleepy because I kept drooling.
If I’m being honest, my call wasn’t entirely sincere. Yes, I wanted to make sure Zander was okay, but I also had this nagging feeling about Cole. Sure, our wedding is a sham, but how could I blame him if he stuck Zander with a babysitter—one I approved of—before heading out with his cousins to a strip club for a bachelor party?
The thought twists my stomach into knots it has no business twisting into.
But I was so relieved when I realized that Cole wasn’t like that. He wasn’t interested in a night of debauchery. He just wanted to hang out with Zander. Does that mean he’ll be that faithful and devoted during our marriage?
It’s a sham marriage, Zoe. It’s predestined to fail. You know that already. It’s what you signed up for.
But... Cole had reserved the hotel room for me, saying that it was bad luck to see the bride before the wedding. Did that mean he wanted it to succeed?
I sigh. Fake or not, I’m getting married. Legally. To Cole. Today.
I gaze over at my perfect wedding dress, the same one from my dream that I found at a local thrift store. It’s delicate, demure, and understated.
The thin material is light and airy with a floral lace overlay. The A-line shape stops just above my feet, so I won’t have to worry about tripping over it, and the leg slits on each side make it easy to walk in. I wonder if Cole will find the subtle flash of my bronze legs sexy.
When I tried on the dress, all I could imagine was Cole's face lighting up with love and desire. I want him to want me. I want him to see me in my wedding dress and think this is forever, not just for now.
I’m being delusional, I know, but I can pretend, can’t I?
This is my moment, one I doubt I’ll ever have again with another groom. Not when I have Zander to raise and his future college tuition to help pay for. Then there are my dreams, like running my own restaurant and getting to design the menu to feature foods that I want to make.
Designing and baking my dream wedding cake— a tier of decadent dark chocolate and another of a light amaretto flavor with shaved almonds topped with cream cheese frosting—the past two days made me wonder if I want to focus more on pastries.
“Are you ready to become the most gorgeous bride on earth?” Connie asks, peeking into my room with a makeup bag. No matter what year it is, Connie’s dressed like a fourth Golden Girl, and today’s no exception, with her thick shoulder pads and slingback kitten heels. Inside the dated diner, she blends in as if the eighties were still in full swing. And yet, I find her demeanor so comforting. So familiar, as if I’ve known this woman my entire life.
Despite our little tiffs over the menu, I seriously can’t think of anyone else I’d love more to help me get ready.
I smile and nod, not trusting myself to speak, to tell Connie more lies than I already have. Like Cole was so in love with me that he proposed after a few weeks of secretly dating.
Connie hadn’t been surprised. She swooned, saying how much she knew love was in the air at the diner—more like lies.
“Cole won’t be able to keep his eyes or lips off of you,” she promises.
His lips.
