Page 47 of Wedding or Not

I knew going into this that it wasn’t real. I knew it would be awkward and strange and unnatural.

I can hardly whine or begrudge Wes that it’s turning out to be exactly what I knew it would be.

This is all for Blossom Park, and no matter how upset I get when it’s clear Wes doesn’t want to spend a lot of time with me, I’m not going to let it drag me down.

Blossom Park is the most important thing.

Not my silly, bubbling feelings for Wes.

All that to say I’m a bit of an emotional mess on Saturday night in the seafood place as I sit in an intimate corner booth next to him.

We’re so close he’s had to drape his arm along the top of the booth behind me.

To the world, we must look like a very happy, newly engaged couple who can’t keep their hands off each other.

That’s the point. To be seen. To drive home the story of our whirlwind romance.

It doesn’t matter that the reality is I’m feeling uncomfortable and tongue-tied and unable to think of any good topic of conversation.

Wes must feel the same because he’s hardly said anything since we got into his SUV back at Blossom Park.

On the drive, I turned on music and sang along with my favorite songs to give the impression of breezy nonchalance.

But nonchalant is the last thing I’m feeling right now.

Wes is looking good in a pair of soft, faded jeans and a button-up shirt in a plaid of various shades of gray and turquoise. He must have showered and shaved right before we left because he still smells like soap, and he doesn’t have any of his normal late-in-the-day stubble.

I like looking at him. I’d do it more if I didn’t feel so awkward right now.

“Don’t get all uptight about it,” he says, soft and low. We’re sitting so close all he has to do is tilt his head down to speak right next to my ear.

I stiffen and say the most predictable thing. “I’m not uptight.”

“Yes, you are. Even if I didn’t have proof in the fact that you refuse to talk to me, I can feel the tension radiating off you.”

“Nothing is radiating off me.” I edge away from him slightly so I can glare.

Up go his eyebrows in the most obnoxious arch.

“I’m not the only one not talking. You’ve hardly been loquacious tonight.”

“Loquacious?”

“Use a dictionary if the vocabulary is beyond you. And don’t think you’ve distracted me that easily. If I’m slightly uncomfortable right now, obviously you are too.”

He looks like he’s about to argue but then stops the words, his shoulders slumping slightly. “You’re right. We both are.”

“So why am I the target of your particular brand of snideness?”

His mouth twitches slightly. “To tell you the truth, it was a last-ditch effort to break the tension with an argument. I figured if you’re mad at me, you won’t be so uptight.”

“I wasn’t uptight!” Despite the vehemence of my retort, I’m actually feeling a lot better. There’s something akin to laughter simmering right beneath the surface of my consciousness.

“Sure you weren’t.”

I make a face at him, but there’s not much heat in it. And we’re both trying not to smile when the server comes over with my white wine and Wes’s beer.

He’s a friendly guy, but he clearly doesn’t recognize us from social media.