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Sarah crosses her arms. “Look, if you are worried for your safety, I will get you out of this. If you think he’s going to hurt you, or be cruel to you, or just make you miserable, I will get you out of this. Are you worried about living with Luke for any of those reasons?”
“Of course not,” I say defensively. “He’s a good man underneath it all, it’s just—”
“Then you should go through with this wedding. At this point, anything less is career suicide. You’ll either be the writer who faked a relationship with her client for profit, or the writer who had a torrid affair with her client and left him at the altar,” Sarah says. “Either way it’s a bad look for you.”
I swallow. She’s right.
“I love you, but this is one of those things you can’t do halfway, Hazel,” Sarah tells me firmly. “You already jumped into this crazy mess. Now the only way out is through.”
I nod. “You’re right. I know you’re right.”
Sarah’s phone buzzes. She glances at the screen and answers it. “Calm down, Luke. She’ll be there in a second.”
She rolls her eyes as she listens to Luke talk, motioning for me to get in my dress.
I take a deep breath, move over towards the full-length mirror, and step into the dress. It’s gorgeous, whispery silk that pours over my curves and gently flares out around my knees. It’s elegant and sexy in a way that makes me feel like a cross between a nineteen-forties movie star and a princess.
Sarah zips me up. “Oh, babe. You’re stunning.”
We smile, our eyes meeting in the mirror.
Then Sarah frowns into her phone. “Not you, idiot. How the hell would I know what you look like? I’m hanging up now. We’ll be there in a second.”
Sarah shoves her phone in her purse. “That must have been some kiss. He sounded almost as distracted as you.”
She reaches into her purse and hands me a dainty silver flask. “Here. Drink some of this for courage.”
“What is it?” I ask, unscrewing the lid and taking a sip.
“Vodka.”
I cough as the fiery liquid stings my throat. This definitely isn’t top shelf. But it gets the job done.
Sarah takes an even bigger swig from the flask, then screws the lid on and drops it into her purse.
“Right. Let's get you horny dumbasses hitched.”
And with that undignified rallying cry, I leave to go get married.
* * *
The ceremony is in a small,exquisitely decorated hotel function room overlooking Central Park. The whole room is covered in white roses. My parents are there in the front row, looking bewildered but happy. Luke’s dad Roger is there too, watching the whole thing unfold with a serious expression I can’t read. Cooper couldn’t be reached, since he’s traveling for work, and the rest of the people here are from Luke’s side.
A good poker face must be hereditary for the Dewinters, because I can’t read Luke’s face either as I walk down the aisle to meet him at the front of the room. It’s the first time I’ve seen him since he kissed me like a god and threw me out of his office.
And I have no fucking clue what he’s thinking.
When I get to the front Luke takes my hand and leans over to whisper in my ear, “Breathe.”
I inhale on instinct, catching the rich, earthy scent of his cologne. My stomach flips.
After that, I do my best to focus on the ceremony. I’ve never met the officiant, some gray-haired woman in an ill-fitting lavender dress who introduces herself as Judge Joan. But she’s quick and efficient, which I appreciate.
We didn’t write our own vows, so when the time comes, we exchange simple “I do’s,” swearing to love each other in sickness and health.
I thought I would feel guilty, lying like this. But mostly it just feels surreal. I almost let out a hysterical laugh. What the hell are we doing?
“You may now kiss the bride,” Judge Joan says.
