Page 68 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“So, was it love at first sight?” another one asks.

“Oh heck no,” she says, and I nearly chokeagain.But this time, I am laughing. “He was awful.”

“Wow,” I nod, but she just laughs, and honestly, I am smiling too.

“Why does that not surprise me?” Jordan asks, and I shoot him a look. “Listen, Quinn. This man is a great lawyer. If I ever had to go to court for anything, I’d want him repping me. No one else,”

“Thanks, asshole,” Colin says, and we all laugh.

“But that said…he’s never been much of a romantic. So hearing he had a date for the wedding was one thing. Seeing him with a woman like you…well. How much are you paying her?”

This time it’s Quinn that almost chokes. But I am quick to the rescue.

“Not enough,” I say, and everyone laughs. Under the table, I grab her hand, a reassuring gesture that our cover isn’t blown. But despite the fact that we came into this wedding with very boldly drawn lines and rules in place, I think it’s safe to say that last night might have blurred some of those lines. And when I don’t let go of her hand and she doesn’t pull away from me, they blur just a little bit more.

The rest of the day goes by slowly and easily. The wedding day itself is more relaxing than a party, and honestly, I don’t hate it. After the brunch and the cake, and the speeches, everyone goes back to their rooms for a small break before heading back down to the beach and pool for relaxing and socializing.

When we walk into our room, it’s clear that housekeeping has been there. Things are picked up, towels refreshed, glasses clean, new champagne, and of course, the bed is made. It’s no secret that both our eyes land there, and it’s almost like it never happened.

Except that it did, and the fuzzy tension in the room reminds us both of that.

Strangely enough, it’s not awkward. Not that it happened. Not that we woke up embracing each other. Not even that neither of us has said a word about it. And trust me, I was fully expecting her to bring it up. I assumed she’d say it was a mistake, that it was my fault because of the room with one bed. I was ready for the accusations and denials. But it never happened. In fact, she’s been nothing but content and warm, and at ease all day. Other than the abrupt wake-up, that is.

“How is your lip?” I ask her as she comes out of the bathroom in a yellow bathing suit, a crocheted cover that is more of an accessory than anything, and a floppy hat.

“It’s okay,” she says with a smile as she walks over to the table with a beach bag and pulls out a bottle of sunscreen.

“Is it?” I ask, walking over to her. I’m in black swim shorts and a black, short-sleeved button-down, buttons still open. I’m not much of a recreational swimmer. But it’s a million degrees out there now, and the bar doesn’t have any seating with land access, so swim shorts it is. Also, I know full well that Quinn will be headed there the moment we get down to the pool, and I’m not about to let her sit alone wearing that.

“It’s sore, but it’s fine,” she insists, but I take a look for myself.

“It’s swollen,” I tell her with a frown. “It looks bad.”

“If anyone asks, I bit my lip at brunch,” she says, not too bothered by it. And while I want to kiss her, I’m a little concerned that I might hurt her. I’m also not entirely sure that if I kissed her, I’d be able to stop. So I don’t.

We spend the rest of the day meandering between the pool, the bar and the beach. By dinner time, we are tired, sun-kissed and so relaxed that I’m not sure how to feel about it. That night, we fall asleep fast and heavy and honestly; it is just as amazing to lay in this bed in this hotel with this girl andnotdo anything.

The next day as we say our goodbyes, literally everyone makes comments about how they hope to see her again.

“Seriously, brother,” Jordan says. “Don’t fuck this one up. She’s a keeper.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” I say, and Quinn looks up at me with a smile, though there’s a spark of something else in her eyes. Surprised maybe? Honestly, my words shocked me a little, too.

“Wait,” one of the wives says. “So, are you telling us that New York’s most notorious divorce lawyer might be on his way to tying the knot?” She asks, and we both look at each other.

I literally don’t have words.

It’s like anything intelligent is gone and I am left standing there with my mouth open.

“We are taking it slow,” Quinn jumps in with a smile. Meanwhile, she has one arm looping loosely around my waist and the other hand planted on my chest in a gesture that could only be described as adoring. “Seeing where things go. I’d hate to rush it, you know?”

“That’s lovely,” one of the other wives says. “There is nothing wrong with being sure.”

We are finally able to pull away and head off to the car. I replay the conversation in my head, my stomach feeling acidic and my chest tight. I don’t know about any of it…knot tying and all that. Marriage isn’t on my Bingo Card at all. And yet, as I watch Quinn walking in front of me, taking in the view of the ocean and the hotel and everything else the beachfront resort has to offer, almost as if she is taking a mental photograph to tuck away for later, I find myself sure about one thing…

I don’t intend on letting her go.

Chapter 29