“Finally. Something we can agree on.”
“If y’all could hold the foreplay until after the I do’s, this might go a little faster,” Rafe chokes behind us as Elvis clears his throat.
“Are we ready?”
I stare, anger and embarrassment coursing through my veins as Logan coughs, covering his laugh.
Unbelievable.
The chapel suddenly feels small . . . and warm . . . and real.
A fake floral arch frames an oversized, screen-printed banner with Graceland gracing the material behind Elvis as he sways on his feet, looking like he may have drunk as much as we did, waiting for an answer.
I should walk away.
Admit this wasn’t my best idea and cut my losses.
But . . . what if it was?
What if itis?
Logan reaches for my hand before I can spiral. He dips his face down to mine. The warmth of his fingers wrapping around mine steals the breath from my lungs. “There she is.”
I drag my eyes up to meet his and want to be annoyed by how calm he looks. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”
“You’re kinda cute when you’re freaking the fuck out, Olive.”
“Call me Olive one more time and I will stab you with my shoe,” I warn, straightening my spine as his mouth twitches. But when his thumb brushes gently over mine, I’ll be damned if my heart doesn’t start racing.
Elvis hums some kind of off-key tune, and we both turn his way. “Did we write our own vows, kids?”
Right.Vows.Shit. “We are not writing our own vows.”
“Aww, Olive. Scared you’ll confess your undying love for me?”
“More like scared I’ll give in to the urge to murder you.” I. Hate. Him. “And honestly, orange isn’t my color. So . . . Let’s get this over with.”
“So romantic,” Logan taunts.
“You first, Romeo.” Elvis nods toward Logan, who looks entirely too entertained and amused with himself for his own good.
“I, Logan Adler, take you, Olive?—”
“Olivia—” I groan.
“St. James. I promise to annoy the shit out of you daily for as long as legally possible.”
My hand flies up to cover my laugh before I can stop myself, and the bastard’s crooked grin grows wide enough for a dimple to pop deep in his left cheek.
Nope. That’s not hot either.
“And to remind you to loosen up and thaw the whole ice-queen thing every once in a while, because despite your terrifying personality, even you deserve to have a little fun.”
“I have fun,” I argue.
Elvis wipes a fake tear from his eye, and Serena giggles behind us.
Traitor.
