I don’tnotlike it. Usually I think it’s kind of a weird term of endearment, but it rolled off Jordan’s tongue so easily, so naturally. When he says it, it’s not weird. It’s … sweet. It makes butterflies take off in my stomach. It makes me want to stare at him.
It makes me want all of this to be real. To have a safe, loving connection with someone as kind as Jordan seems.
I shrug. “Babe is fine. Just don’t try one of those stupid ones, like snookums or pookie.”
He chuckles, and his warm breath on my neck makes me shiver. Shouldn’t that be annoying? My mom is always telling my dad to stop breathing on her on purpose.
I guess I wouldn’t know about any of that. I’ve had boyfriends the last ten years, but not very many. And no matter how long some of them lasted, I couldn’t ever picture a future with them. It’s hard to get there when I can’t trust if they mean any of the things they’re saying to me.
Maybe I like what I have with Jordan right nowbecauseI know for a fact it’s not real, that he’s acting. There won’t be some big reveal in a few months when I find out he doesn’t love me at all and it was all to get something from me.
Because I already know that’s exactly what this is—only I’m the one using him.
“I was saying,babe,” Jordan says in a low voice, “that you should get some rest. You’ll want those bridal portraits tomorrow to look fresh-faced.”
I huff out a laugh. “Okay,” I agree.
He leans his chair back the miniscule amount it will go, evenfor first class. This is when I really miss the jet. The eight-hour flight would be almost luxurious. He grabs the blanket I brought on board, since the ones the airlines supply are always too small, and pats his chest.
I should refuse. Falling asleep on Jordan is a bad idea. It’s practically snuggling. But we are in public. It could look bad to insist on sleeping in my own seat. I can see the comments on some grainy picture about how Jordan’s not taking care of me like I deserve. I definitely don’t want to make him look bad.
So I give in and rest my head on his chest.
Abort, abort, abort.Not only is the hoodie material even softer against my cheek, but it smells amazing—of course. Like detergent, his sporty deodorant, and a faint whiff of something fruity. This is the danger zone.
Pull yourself together, Libby Bennet, I tell myself sternly. Nobody falls helplessly in love over a soft hoodie and a good-smelling guy.
Someone needs to get that message to Dream Libby, who does not stop herself from making out with Jordan right there in first class, in the middle of the night when the rest of the plane is asleep.
Oi.
It’s two a.m. in Maui when we land, and well past three by the time we get our luggage. We’re both dead on our feet, so instead of driving the forty-five minutes to the beach house we’re staying in, we nab a hotel room near the airport to get a few hours of sleep. We both crash the second our heads hit the pillows of ourseparatebeds—thank heavens for double queen rooms—and neither of us stir until my alarm goes off at six a.m. Our wedding is at ten a.m. at the beach of the house I rented, and I have hair and makeup to get done.
“Remember how we talked about planning our PDAs?”Jordan says with a yawn as he puts his toothbrush back in his backpack. Our luggage was taken straight to the house last night, so we just have our carry-ons.
What he’s leading up to hits me as I rummage in my own bag, replacing the earbuds and eye mask I used last night. I freeze. “The wedding kiss.” I sigh and sit back down on the bed.
“I think we should probably make a plan and…” He clears his throat. “Practice.”
I look up at him. “Practice,” I repeat. My voice sounds strangled, and my brain goes right to my dream on the plane last night. I swallow.
He nods. “There’s going to be cameras, right? Someone taking photos and someone filming it to give to the network for your show?”
My turn to nod. He’s right. This kiss needs to look good. “Yeah,” I say quietly.
“So if we practice, it will feel—and look—more natural.”
My nod picks up with nerves. He’s right, even if I’m freaking out right now. The video will be used in the show. Erin didn’t even tell Victoria about what she heard in my office, so when I called the regular director, Tessie, about the wedding, she was surprised. Erin is definitely on my good side now for keeping her mouth shut. I told Tessie I would handle filming, because outsiders were not invited, and I would give her footage to use in the show. She and Victoria agreed when I promised everything would be exclusive to them.
“You’re right,” I say to Jordan, trying to make my voice firm and confident. I can’t look at him right now. I stand back up. “I’m going to go brush my teeth, and then we’ll … practice.”
He gives me a thumbs-up.
I use those few minutes in the bathroom by myself to take some deep breaths. This is totally fine. It’s just kissing. I have kissed guys before, and even if Jordan is sweet and hot, it doesn’t have to mean anything.
I definitely don’t want it to mean anything.
I cannot fall for someone like Jordan, even if I’m going to marry him. This isn’t a movie where things all work out in the end. I’m not like those heroines.
