Page 84 of The Wedding Situation Romance

“You’ve impressed me a lot these last couple of weeks, Mr. August,” she says, and my smile falters. My eyes flash to her in the mirror. I don’t think she knows my real name. I’ve never mentioned it and she’s never asked. At this point, I don’t know why I’ve kept it a secret. Maybe because that’s what I do in my personal life–I go by Reid. With a name like mine, a presence like mine, in the field I work in, it’s often considered a death sentence to tell women just who I am. They don’t care about the legal title. They shorten to one thing.

The Love Killer. The Grim Reaper. Yes, I hear the whispers. And honestly? They haven’t been inaccurate. My views on marriageand forever and all that fluff have been pretty clear to both other people and myself.

Maybe…until now.

As I watch a perfect woman attempt to make herself even more perfect in the mirror, I find myself questioning a lot of my thinking.

“Oh?” I finally respond. “How so?”

“You’ve been less miserable,” she says flatly, and I laugh. “Less difficult. Less pessimistic.”

“Feelings aside, seeing your friends undeniably happy makes it hard to be negative about it all,” I say, and she finally leaves her hair alone to turn around and face me.

“So you might be changing your beliefs about love after all?” she asks. Her tone is so overly sugar-coated I can’t help but wonder if there’s something else underneath it. A sort of Sour Patch Kid of statements if you will.

“I don’t know about the entirety of my belief system,” I tell her with an easy smile as I take one casual step closer to her to close the gap. “But I will say that certain things have…swayed…my opinions on the concept of love a little bit…” I say as I sweep her hair from her eyes. Then I plant a soft, slow kiss on her perfectly pink lips. She tastes like the strawberry gloss she just applied, and I don’t even care.

“Your lips are going to be pink now,” she smiles into the kiss.

“That’s alright. Matches the salmon,” I say, and it makes her laugh, which was entirely my intention.

The wedding is exactly as it should be for Reid. The live orchestra is back, sitting in the back where guests file in. The day is beyond perfect for an outdoor wedding in a garden that looks straight out of a scene from, well, Bridgerton. Everyone is dressed to code. Some of the women are even wearing white gloves. It’s like Daphne and Simon themselves are getting married.

And while it’s a thousand miles from my idea of a perfect wedding (not that I even have an opinion on the subject…though it would be more modern, less casual acquaintances and I wouldn’t be wearing a suit with a fish name), it’s perfect for Drew and Cassidy. And I can’t help but believe he did better this time around. Cassidy might have expensive taste, but she’s much better suited for him than Jenny ever was. I say that as an observant best friend and nothing more.

“What are you smiling about?” Quinn’s whisper pulls me back into the present as we walk down the aisle. While Cass hasn’t known Quinn for very long, she insisted that it only made sense for Quinn to be one of her bridesmaids. And when her maid of honor ended up going into labor a week early, the part was handed to Quinn, who, as you can imagine, had no complaints.

“Just…” I trail off. Good fucking god, what have I become?

“Just?” she presses with a smile as she leans into me.

“I’m…happy for him,” I say the words as if I had to grab hold of them with both fists and rip them out. But even with her gushing reaction and all the smiles on us and the orchestra playing a Taylor Swift song and the fucking birds singing, I mean it. Because at the front of the altar is Drew in his hideous suit with a grin on his face so unfiltered we can take photos of it and makefun of it till his funeral. And romantic or not, I like seeing my best friend that way.

“You’re getting soft,” she tells me.

“And you’re misbehaving,” I tell her with a warning in my voice that makes her smile and blush.

“I would never…” she giggles, and she blushes even more, pink blossoming across her cheeks the color of roses.

Never have I fucking ever been in danger of getting a hard-on from a girl’s blush.

“See you on the other side,” she whispers with a voice drenched in velvet, and I pray to God the sunset behind us is blinding people enough that they can’t see my most likely bulging crotch.

The ceremony is typical–long, fluffy, tearful. And while none of those tears are mine, I hold a smile for my friend and his bride. I also snigger softly when I see Quinn unwrap what I thought was a ribbon from her bouquet and it’s actually a handkerchief to dab her eyes with.

This woman, I swear to God…

* * *

“This was a good call,” Quinn says as she kicks her heels off the moment we step inside our yurt. “I can’t imagine leaving tonight.”

It’s already past 2am, and it is safe to say we are exhausted as we collapse onto the bed.

“Listen,” I sigh. “When Drew said we were welcome to stay another night, I jumped on it. The last thing I feel like doing is packing up and driving home right now.”

“I don’t have the energy to take my dress off,” she says, and I roll my head to smirk over at her.

“You want help with that?” I ask, and she rolls her eyes and shoves me playfully.