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But it wasn’t real.
And it wasn’t a dream.
This right here was a nightmare.
He’d stopped by my bookstore, all right, but there’d been nothing enjoyable or sweet about it.
I handed ten dollars to the barman and took my glass of wine without turning back around. I couldn’t believe this was going this badly. Not that the night was—no, the night itself was going perfectly fine.
The rehearsal dinner had gone off without a hitch, much to Kate’s relief. She was now soaking up as much time as she could with her fiancé, Spencer, before they were split up tonight ahead of the wedding. They were being stopped every few steps, and I swore May was about to step in and whisk them off somewhere for a moment.
To sum up, it was going exactly as well as you’d expect it to.
Except that my night… wasn’t.
I couldn’t believe I’d been roped into this. I know, I know, I’d said it a thousand times, but seriously. If it weren’t for Sebastian, I’d be at home right now. In bed. With my book and my snacks.
That was how a Friday night should be spent.
Instead I was here in a black, long-sleeved dress with a scooping neckline and high heels pretending I was Sebastian’s girlfriend.
All the women in the world, and here I was.
Why couldn’t he have paid someone to do this? It wasn’t like he didn’t have the money.
“I’m sorry,” Sebastian said, turning around and leaning on the bar next to me. He dipped his head so his mouth was close to my ear, and his firm bicep brushed against mine. “There’s nothing I can do. If I argue, it’ll only ruin Kate’s night.”
I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. I knew he was right, and for the record, I didn’t think he was any happier about this than I was. I did understand what he was saying, though, and I wasn’t about to be the brat who ruined his sister’s wedding.
“I know that,” I said, softening a little bit. “But does your mom realize what a situation this puts us in? And that’s before you consider the fact that you’re famous. If the media come after me, I’m going to kill you.”
He sighed and motioned for another beer. “No, I don’t think she does realize it. I think she’s just going with the motions because it’s easier for her. She doesn’t often think about other people when she’s in one of these moods.”
I made a noise that agreed with him and quickly snagged an empty stool before someone else could get it. Seb grabbed his bottle and turned to the side, looking over at where his mom was entertaining some of the guests. She was a natural, someone who thrived in social situations and could charm the pants off a monk if she really wanted to.
Kate was the same. All the women in his family were like that, and to an extent, I envied them.
Because I just… wasn’t.
I was quiet and reserved and a little—lot—nerdy, content to spend my weekends wrapped up under a blanket with thick socks, hot cocoa, soup, and a book or three. My idea of a party was accidentally having too much wine with my dinner at Bronco’s and ending up on the karaoke machine, then spending the next two days hating myself because hangovers at twenty-six were not the same as twenty-one.
In related news, I had a habit I needed to break before I hit thirty, because I bet hangovers then were even worse.
“We can leave,” Seb said after a few minutes of silence. “We’ve done the dinner and everything else.”
I skirted my gaze toward him. “But the wine is here. And after the day I’ve had, I need the wine.”
Maybe I wouldn’t learn.
He held up a finger and summoned the bartender again. He rushed over, drying a glass, and leaned in to Seb. Seb said something in a low voice, and the bartender nodded with a smile before he stepped back.
“What was that?”
“Drink up,” Seb replied to me before taking a long drink of his beer. “He’s sending some to our room so we can go.”
I opened my mouth but nothing came out.
“Holley, you’re tired. I can see it. You’ve had a long day, and if you want to go back to the room, put on some sweats, and read your book, then you can do that.” His eyes met mine, and in them I saw nothing but earnest truth. “Let’s go, okay?”
“Okay.” I finished the last mouthful of my wine and let him take my hand and lead me away from the bar. We wove through groups of people until we reached his dad, and he grabbed his attention for a moment.
“We’re going,” Seb said to him. “Holley’s tired.”
“Did you get your car sorted?” His dad, Ben, asked me.
