Page 94 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

Nathan shows up.

This new evidence forces me to reconsider my initial worries. Nathan’s not anything like Roman or my dad. He cares. He makes the effort, even after I gave him an easy out. He didn’t give up. Instead, he dug in hard.

I burrow into my thoughts at this revelation.

When Dex and Mom share notes on their evening, Nathan leaves the conversation and approaches me. He stops a few feet away. I glance away, already regretting my earlier outburst.

“You’re flying home after the wedding?” Nathan asks.

“Sophia doesn’t need me anymore with Natasha here.” I shrug. I’m still coming to terms with the fact I’m a little more than annoyed about it.

He scrunches his face like he’s not sure.

“What?”

“I didn’t want to bring this up right now, but . . .” Nathan peers over his shoulder like he’s confirming Dex and Mom are still occupied with their chat. They are.

He removes his phone from his pocket and taps the face. He tips the screen my direction, sharing a video. He presses play and everything unfolds.

It’s the beach at night. The hotel with the party lights of the luau glows in the background. At the center, Roman makes out with a woman. The biggest difference between our kiss and this one? This one is fully reciprocated, and with someone I don’t recognize.

The pig.

“Who the heck is that?” I grab the phone and press replay.

“I think it’s the woman Roman was fighting with.”

“The florist?” My gaze widens.

“If she’s the florist,” Nathan says.

“That man-whore!” Mom yells too loud. As usual, she’s tuned into the drama.

A group of nurses stop to stare at us from outside the room.

“Sorry.” Nathan waves a hand. With his assurance, they continue on. He softly shuts the door with a click and turns to us. “What should we do?”

Deep down, my anger boils. How could Roman do this? Especially after I warned him if he hurt Sophia, I would destroy him. This time, a simple bash ’n’ splash won’t do.

“I’m going to kill him.” I grit my teeth.

And then something else that’s very, very important occurs to me.

“Where’s Freddie?” I ask.

42/

jeanie

Nathan’s Nacho

A snoring Freddie is curled up at Mom’s hotel room door when we return. Nathan carries his slack body inside, gently lays him on the couch, and covers him with a blanket.

I lead a bone-weary Dex into Mom’s second bedroom. She’s going to watch over him tonight because of his likely concussion.

I return to the living room and stare at Freddie. Still asleep, his arms noodle the air like he’s fondling someone. His lips pucker, and he sticks out his tongue to lick the air. I wrinkle my nose.

“Is that a form of sleepwalking?” Nathan studies him with amusement.