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“You and me both.” I resist tugging on my collar again and glance down to make sure I haven’t scuffed my shoes or gotten dirt on the tux. I could’ve rented the thing, but I bought it instead. Something about wearing a tux another man had worn—probably to his own wedding—didn’t sit right with me. I’d make use of it. There are plenty of charity galas and other events the team’s required to attend.
“There’s still time to escape.” Clay leans in close, merriment dancing in his expression. He holds my shoulders in a tight grip. “I’ll hold them off.”
“That’s not necessary.” My stomach heaves just imagining the humiliation Trina would face if I ran. Not to mention the looks—and extra practices—I’d get from Coach. So not worth it. I can handle being married to Trina for three months.
Clay folds his hands in front of him and moves to stand at my side. He clears his throat and looks at the pianist—a young man wearing a sleek gray suit sits behind a baby grand.
Music pumps out, the tempo too fast and enthusiastic for a wedding. Trina’s idea, or did the producers override her choice on this too?
At the back of the room, several bridesmaids look around in confusion.
Cool sticks out an arm, easing one of the women to the side. He leans to whisper in her ear. She smiles and makes a shooing motion for him to go ahead.
What on Earth?
Behind Cool, Tandy and the others strike various poses. It takes me a second to realize they’re from my promo shoot a few weeks ago. Cool lifts his chin. The music changes, the tempo picking up speed.
Tandy snaps his fingers and prances up the aisle.
Cool claps his hands overhead. “Come on, now. Everybody clap along.” He shakes his rear, spins in a circle and motions for the next guy to move.
I cover my face with both hands as laughter spills out. I can’t believe they’re doing this to me. Wait, yes, I can. It’s no worse than what I’d do to them if our roles were reversed.
Cool does a smooth moonwalk, sliding his feet all the way down the aisle until he comes to a stop by my side. He tips his hat at the crowd. Many of them whistle and cheer. The cameras pan the room, then zoom in on me and Cool. I slap him on the shoulder like I’d known about this all along.
“You’re so dead.” I lower my voice to a hiss the mics can’t pick up.
Cool shrugs. “Nah, man. They loved it. Makes the team look good.”
He isn’t wrong. Except for one small detail.
Tandy is still out there. The man has zero rhythm. He’s bebopping out of sync with the pulsing beat. People give him pitying looks. I push Cool in Tandy’s direction. “Go save him from himself.”
Cool grins and chases Tandy down, then drags him over to stand at the edge of the room.
I shake my head at them and mouth, “I’m going to get you for this.”
Cool brushes his hands together in awhatevergesture and rocks onto his heels.
The others snap their fingers and spin in a circle, wiggling their fingers at the women who must be Trina’s sisters. I’d done a bit of research on her since the article, so I knew a little about her and her family.
I tried not to pry, preferring she enlighten me herself rather than leaving me to read and make assumptions as she had. I reel that thought back in. I need to put all that behind us. Ah, who am I kidding? I picked Trina to prove myself to her.
I’m afraid it’s a hopeless case, me and her, but I’m too far in to quit. Not like I’d walk out on my own wedding. I wouldn’t do that to my real bride, and the cameras would make it so much worse. Plus my team is counting on me. On this. I keep that in mind as the music changes, this time sliding into the traditional wedding march I’d expected.
The pianist is still laughing but his playing doesn’t suffer. I’m glad for that.
My heart pounds when I see Trina peek around the corner. From the looks she shoots my way, she’s ready to string Cool and Tandy up by their toes for ruining her sisters’ entrance.
Sweat dampens my palms. I’m ready for her. I shoot her my best smile and steady my hands. Time to change my life.
***
TRINA
Liam’s team members wiggle their butts as they do their pathetic dance down the aisle. How dare they shove my bridesmaids aside and take over. Melanie and Pam are laughing and don’t seem to mind, but I do. I plunk my hand on my hip and send a laser glare to Liam. He’s laughing too like he’s having the time of his life. He could’ve at least told me. These kinds of surprises aren’t fun. I like order. Lists. Even my underwear and sock draws are color-coded.
But this. This butt-wiggling show on my flower-strewn carpet runner is not acceptable. Marriages are built on clear communication, are they not? Okay, sure. I haven’t been as open as I could have been with Liam. In my defense, I hate his guts.
