Page 133 of Fake it for Keeps

The heated enclosure meant we could keep the party outside despite the February cold. Lights twinkled overhead. Music played. Food and drinks flowed freely.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ announced. “For the first time as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Colt Jesson!”

We entered to thunderous applause, and I couldn’t stop grinning. This was real. This was happening. Hallie was mine.

We had our first dance as husband and wife to the song we chose together. I caught a glimpse of her mother, who was crying and smiling at the same time. I held my wife close and tried to memorize every detail. The way she felt in my arms. The way she smelled. The way she looked at me like I was her entire world.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“For choosing me.”

“Always,” she said. “I’ll always choose you.”

After our dance, the party really got started. Frankie, who’d been relatively composed during the ceremony, had apparently decided to let loose at the reception. I watched in amusement as she kicked off her heels and started dancing with reckless abandon.

“Your sister is something else,” Hallie said, laughing.

“Just wait. She’s just getting started.”

Sure enough, twenty minutes later, Frankie appeared at our table with a tray of shots. Bright green shots that looked toxic.

“Drink up, newlyweds,” she said, pushing two toward us.

“What is this?” Hallie asked suspiciously.

“Love potion.” Frankie grinned. “Also known as midori, tequila, and regret.”

“Pass,” I said immediately.

“Nope. You’re drinking. Both of you. It’s tradition.”

“Since when?” Hallie asked.

“Since right now. Come on!”

Against our better judgment, we downed the shots. The taste was absolutely vile. Sweet and sour and burning all at once.

“That’s disgusting,” Hallie gasped.

“I think you just poisoned us,” I added.

“You’re welcome!” Frankie skipped off to terrorize other guests.

I looked at Hallie, and we both started laughing.

“Your family is insane,” she said.

“Our family,” I corrected. “You married into this. Too late to back out now.”

“Best decision I ever made.”

Across the room, I spotted Hallie and April talking to two of my business associates—both young, both wearing expensive suits, both probably trying to impress them with talk of their portfolios and investment strategies.

“Your friends are working the room,” I murmured in Hallie’s ear.

“Can you blame them? You’ve shown them what’s possible with a billionaire husband.”