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“So we just need to get our entire guest list drunk before the wedding.” I laugh, more out of disbelief over this entire scheme than amusement.
“I mean, we can get a great start on the key players tonight,” Claire says. “I’ll do my best to sell Ben and Owen’s parents’ on some celebratory shots.”
“I can do this,” Ben assures me.
I nod. Between my options—devastating my mother right before she passes away and faking my way through the wedding tomorrow with Ben—I’ll take my chances on the second option.
Chapter Four
Ben
* * *
I tug on the sleeve of my tuxedo jacket, already sweating. Twenty-four hours ago I was getting lit on the golf course, my only job at this shindig to keep track of the rings until they were needed.
Now I’m the groom.
“What’s with you?” one of Owen’s groomsmen demands. “You’ve been off since last night.”
“Fuck off,” I bark.
His name’s Adam and he’s a tool. He made every golf club into a dick yesterday, arching his back and cackling loudly like he was brand new to dick jokes. By the fifth time, it was all I could do not to grab the end of the club and slam it into his nuts.
My dad approaches and holds out a hand to pass me the rings, letting me know Owen’s in my room playing his part.
“You ready?” he asks, putting a hand on my shoulder.
I slowly exhale, nodding. This will be a piece of cake. Just like last night’s rehearsal. Repeat the words the pastor says. We didn’t kiss then, but hell...I can handle a kiss. Smile for a few photos and that’s it.
“Five minutes,” Amir says. “Any last words as a bachelor?”
What would Owen say? I scrub a hand down my face, more nervous than I’ve been before any game of my hockey career.
“It’s been a good run,” I crack, sweat rolling down my spine.
“Did you guys do a prenup?” Tyler asks.
I scowl at him. “Fuck no.”
“You said you did.” Adam gives me a look and I remember I’m supposed to be Owen, who is obviously more of a dick than I thought.
I shrug. “I realized it was a dick move and tore it up.”
“Yeah, but she doesn’t even have a job.” Adam’s eyes widen. “And your earning potential is significant, man. I think that’s the wrong call.”
He’s maybe 5’10” in shoes with generous heels. Little Adam has no fucking idea that I earn more than Owen ever will, and if I were lucky enough to be marrying Stella for real, I’d never ask her to sign a prenup.
“You must like TV dinners and jerking off more than I do,” I tell him.
Everyone goes silent for a second before busting out laughing. They think I’m kidding.
I’m not. Adam’s suggestion that Stella would somehow take advantage of Owen is untimely to say the least. No way does that loser have a woman in his life. Unless he’s paying one.
“Time to go, guys,” Amir says.
My dad’s already gone, likely seated in the front row with my mom. I follow Owen’s groomsmen from our dressing room out to our spot in front of the guests, my heart racing triple time.
It’s a sunny late May afternoon, a string quartet playing music as ushers help people find their seats.
My gaze goes directly to Joan, who’s wearing a bright blue scarf over her head and smiling at me. She blows me a kiss. I put my hand over my heart and nod.
When the bridesmaids start walking toward us, I shift on my feet, taking a few deep breaths to steady myself. This wedding isn’t real, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like it is.
As the maid of honor, Claire is the final bridesmaid to make her walk down the aisle, and she looks so serene no one would ever guess her right hook is the reason the groom has been icing his eye since yesterday. Not that he didn’t deserve it. I’d have done worse to him.
The music changes and the guests all stand and turn. Stella makes her appearance on the arm of her older brother, Andrew, and Andrew’s wife Val moves Joan’s wheelchair close to the aisle so she can see her children make their walk.
Stella is radiant. Her dark hair is up in an intricate style, a delicate tiara framing it. She’s wearing a sleeveless pale pink dress with a fitted, beaded bodice and a long, flowing train. Her makeup is perfect. The moment her eyes meet mine, I lose it.
There are two photographers and one of them is savage, snapping photo after photo of me wiping the corners of my eyes, trying to get my shit together. I can’t believe I’m crying.
She’s so beautiful. I never imagined she’d look at me like she just did, her eyes filled with hope and love as she walks down the aisle to pledge herself to me forever.
