Текст книги "Pretend It's Love "

Автор книги: Stefanie London

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 7 (всего у книги 13 страниц)

Chapter Nine

Somehow they made it to his bed, though he was sure he’d find a trail of clothes leading like breadcrumbs to his kitchen in the morning. That was a problem for tomorrow, however, because he was certain about one thing—Libby wasn’t leaving his bed until the sun came up.

Copper strands of hair fanned out across his pillow like silk streamers. She stared at him with hooded eyes, her hands reaching out.

“First things first, Tiger.” He came down between her legs and blazed a trail with his mouth from belly button to the waistband of her single remaining item of clothing.

“Don’t rip this pair,” she said, her back arching as he pressed a kiss between her legs. “They’re too pretty to go into the trash.”

Pretty was an understatement. The swatch of pink silk against her pale, white skin was striking. Captivating.

It made him want to catalog every dirty thought he’d ever had and play them all out at once.

“I’m impatient,” he murmured against the silk before tugging the panties down her legs. “I don’t want to waste a second.”

He threw them to the side before capturing one ankle in his hand and hooking it around his waist.

“We have all night.” She reached for his boxers, dipping her finger beneath the elastic to brush against his cock. The gentle scrape of her nails along his length dragged a moan from his lips.

He moved closer, allowing her to grasp him fully. “I’m going to need it. There’s too many things I want to do to you.”

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. “Are you sure I can keep up?”

“Don’t worry about that. Let me drive,” he said, pushing his boxers down and discarding them over the edge of the bed. “You just lie back and enjoy.”

“Hmmm…” She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked slowly. “I like the sound of that.”

His hands came down beside her as he lowered his face to hers, capturing her mouth in a deep, searching kiss. She tasted of marshmallow and chocolate, sweet. Decadent.

Through the haze of arousal and desperate desire, fear settled over him. Something felt different. Having Libby in his bed wasn’t just about sex. It wasn’t scratching an itch like he had in the past. He wanted to drown in her, he wanted to use his body to show her that she was beautiful, worthy. He wanted to erase her past hurts and make her feel whole.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but you shouldn’t be frowning during sex, right?” Her teeth nipped along his jaw, her tone teasing.

You got what you wanted, enjoy it. Don’t think about anything beyond this. There isn’t anything beyond this.

He bent his head and drew a nipple into his mouth, running his tongue over the tightened peak. Her moan echoed in the quiet room, awareness gripping him and quickening his pulse.

“I’m concentrating,” he said, burying his face between her breasts. “I don’t want you leaving until I’ve licked, kissed, and fucked every inch of you.”

“You do have a way with words.” She let out a throaty laugh as her head lolled back against the pillow and she arched against him. “Or maybe you’re just good with your mouth.”

“You should know the answer to that already.”

A sly smile passed over her lips. “Refresh my memory?”

“Gladly.”

He worked his way down to the juncture of her thighs, pressing kisses along the sensitive join of her hip. Warm flesh greeted his mouth. Goosebumps rippled across her skin as he trailed his fingertips over her thighs, skating around the part where she wanted him most. Her hips bucked as she fought for control, but Paul stayed true to his word.

“This is the part where you beg, Tiger.”

He drew her clit into his mouth only to let it go a second later, lavishing maddening kisses all around her. One palm flattened against her stomach, holding her where he wanted her. Where she wouldn’t be able to move without his permission.

“You can’t make me,” she panted.

“You’re so close.” He blew cold air over her sensitive flesh, alternating direct pressure and feather-light licks. “It would be a shame not to hear that wonderful noise you make when you come.”

“Paul,” she growled.

“Yes, Tiger?”

Silence. She was stubborn, something he’d grown to appreciate. But he wanted her to know that in the bedroom she was at his mercy. This was his domain and if she bent then he would give her everything.

“Dammit.” Her fist came down hard on the bed as she bucked her hips against his mouth.

“Say it.”

“Please, I need it.” She tangled her fingers in his hair and yanked him into place. “I’m begging.”

“That’s all you needed to say.”

Her nails dug into his scalp as he applied the perfect pressure with his tongue, lapping at her until he tipped her over. The sound of her cries set his nervous system aflame. She trembled even after he drew his lips away, immediately curling into herself as the last shockwaves of orgasm ran through her.

He crawled up the bed and drew her to him, her back lining his front. Hot skin against hot skin. Wrapping his arms around her, his fingers traced the peaks and valleys of her beautiful body. He felt so…alive.

“It’s not so bad to let someone else be in charge.”

She turned, her face tilting up to his and catching the moonlight streaming in through the window. “Don’t get cocky now.”

He grinned. “Too late.”

Shaking her head, she slipped out of his grasp and pushed him back against the covers, straddling him. His hard-on brushed the creamy skin of her inner thigh. Wanting spread through him like a drug, heightening his senses, switching on the part of his brain that screamed more, more, more.

Rolling her hips in circles so that she bumped her heat against him, her eyes glittered. “Payback’s going to feel so very good.”

His fingers bit into her hips, his cock twitching with each brush of her satin skin. “Just because you’re on top doesn’t mean you’re in the driver’s seat.”

He reached out to the drawer beside his bed and felt around for a condom. The foil crinkled as he ripped open the packet, cutting through the air heavy with arousal. He sheathed himself slowly, not missing the way Libby’s eyes watched him intently.

“Do you like to watch?” He wrapped his hands around himself and stroked.

Pupils dilated, her breath hitched. Even in the dim light he could see the flush that crept across her cheeks, extending down her neck and matching the rosy shade of her nipples. Her hands curled into the bedspread as she watched, enraptured.

“I’ve never…” She swallowed. “I’ve never seen a man touch himself before.”

The admission was fuel to his already out of control fire. He wanted to burst, but he controlled each stroke as though it were a master in resistance, power surging through him all the while.

“Do you like it?”

She licked her lips. “Very much.”

“If I keep this up the show will be over before it’s begun.” He released himself, reaching for her.

She came to him easily, her hips lifting to position over him. As she sank, a haze fell over him. His eyes rolled back, everything else fading away until it was just the sensation of her surrounding him.

“Paul,” she gasped, her palms coming down on either side of his head.

“Easy, Tiger.” He moved her hips to meet his thrusts, controlling the pace. Drawing out their pleasure.

Hair tickled his chest as her head rolled forward, the sheet of copper surrounding them until it felt as though they were the only two beings in the world. The pad of his thumb caught her lower lip as his hand curled around her jaw. She kissed the tip of his thumb, drawing him into her mouth and sucking in a way that made him want to combust.

“Keep that up…” he threatened.

“And what?” She blinked her long, black lashes at him. “You’ll cross the finish line.”

She squealed as he grabbed her hips, flipping them so that he hovered over her, still buried deep inside. Reaching down between them, he found the sensitive nub of her clit and started a slow assault. His favorite kind.

Her head pressed back into the pillow, eyes squeezed shut. “Oh my God—”

“I’m not going to cross the line until you scream my name again.” He pressed a kiss to her mouth, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

“You drive a hard bargain.”

He chuckled against her throat, inhaling the scent of dampness on her skin mixed with faded perfume and soap. And something else…something uniquely her.

“It is hard.”

She laughed, the sound dissolving into a cry as she reached the peak. He could have held back, but in that moment he wanted to give her everything: pleasure, completeness, satisfaction. He was at her service, there to command and form her pleasure.

“Paul,” she whispered as the waves subsided. “Don’t leave me out here alone.”

“I won’t.” He thrust into her, driving toward the pinpoint of pleasure that blurred his vision and stole his breath. “I won’t.”

When orgasm hit he drowned in her. He didn’t realize that he’d been calling her name until the rawness hit his throat, the echo of their lovemaking heavy in the air. Her arms wound around his waist, holding him against her.

For the first time in forever, having another’s arms around him didn’t feel like a trap.

Libby shifted, the haze of sleep slowly evaporating as she opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming through a window. A window with wooden slats and a distinct lack of color. In other words, not her window.

Head thumping, she tested the severity of her hangover by trying to lift her head from the pillow. Moderate, certainly not her worst, but she needed to down a painkiller and a bottle of water. Stat.

Heat prickled along her skin, the weight of Paul’s arm heavy across her midsection. The bare skin of her back was fused to his chest, the backs of her thighs pressed against him.

What a night.

Heavy breathing told her he was still asleep…perhaps she could wriggle out and make a quick getaway to avoid the awkward morning-after chitchat. Would it be awkward? They had no expectations of each other, and they weren’t in a relationship. They both shunned emotional entanglements.

Last night was nothing more than two people with mutual attraction blowing off a little steam. Or a lot of steam, as the case may be. For a moment she wondered how many women had woken up in his bed.

None of your business, don’t even think about going there with him.

Aching limbs and niggling thoughts aside, Libby felt like a million bucks. Clearly all she’d needed to lessen the weight on her shoulders was a good, old-fashioned romp between the sheets. And too many orgasms to count. Paul was relentless, pushing her harder and higher each time until her body had nothing left to give.

“What was that little shiver for?” His sleepy voice sounded in her ear, his lips brushing the back of her neck.

“I think you’re dreaming.”

“Feels like it.” He brushed his lips along the ridge of her shoulder. “I don’t ever have a beautiful woman in my bed when I wake up in real life.”

“Do you kick them all out before the sun comes up?” She rolled onto her back so she could see his face.

A hard mask settled over him, his eyes cold. “Something like that.”

“I don’t expect you to make me pancakes.” Her hand came up to trace the hard line of his jaw. “Just so we’re clear.”

“So I should put the milk and eggs away?”

“You don’t fool me, Paul Chapman. I know exactly what you want, and it’s not breakfast.”

He leaned over her, locking her down with his thigh and capturing her mouth with his. “You read me like a book.”

“Right now you sound a lot like a teenage boy’s diary. Sex on the brain.”

He pretended to be hurt. “What else am I supposed to think about when you’re lying there all naked and perfect like that?”

A warmth kindled in her chest. “My sparkling personality?”

“Not going to happen.” His fingertips traced the length of her throat, his thumb skirting over the hollow at its base.

“What about how I’m a sharp business woman?” Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand trailed down to cup her breast.

“Tiger, all of those things are wonderful. But right now the only thing I want is to taste that sweet honey of yours.”

Her sex clenched, but she resisted the urge to give in to him. “I really should go. I’ve got a lot of planning to do for the wedding.”

His hand dipped lower, a flat palm smoothing over her belly to cup the gentle ache between her thighs. “What if I’m not done with you yet?”

“The best thing about sex without emotions is that I don’t have worry about hurting your feelings.” She sucked in a breath as he traced a line up her inner thigh.

“No, you just have to worry about your own.” A dark shadow passed over his face, his eyes intently burning into her.

Something about the look unnerved her, as though she were crossing into new territory and wandering in the wrong direction. That was the problem with Paul, he drew her to him like a magnet. She knew she should leave his bed, she had work to do and an exciting opportunity in front of her.

But nothing else seemed to matter when he touched her.

Her worries about her business, about her father…everything melted away. But she didn’t belong here with him. Her focus had to be on her business if she had any chance of making her own money and getting her own place. If she had any chance of being successful.

Not to mention that this relationship was fake because she could never be with someone like him…perfectly charming and sexy as hell. She wouldn’t put herself in a situation where she had to compete for his attention. Been there, done that.

Never. Doing. It. Again.

“You know you’ve stopped telling me not to call you Tiger.” His lips curved into a smile. “Does that mean I’m getting to you?”

“Or I’ve just realized that your persistence knows no bounds.”

Deep down, in some dark corner of herself that she’d deny until the end of time, she’d grown to like it. A nickname signaled belonging, affection. Things she’d been hard up for most of her life, and he’d given them to her even when her reaction was to keep him at a distance.

“You don’t get anywhere in life without persistence.”

“Wise words.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “But I do have to go. We’re going to kill it at the wedding, you know. My cocktails will wow everyone, and I’m going to convince the whole family that you’re perfect husband material.”

“Let’s not get carried away.” He wrinkled his nose. “We’re breaking up after the wedding, remember.”

A sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach. “I know. But you want the family to think you’re Mr. Responsible, right?”

“Right.”

She pushed up from the bed, suddenly conscious of how naked she was without the nighttime darkness to conceal her. “We’ll make it happen, I promise.”

“Looking forward to it.” He nodded, his eyes unreadable once more. “Hey…can I ask you something?”

“Sure.” She looked around for her clothes but could only locate her underwear.

“Will you help me put a business plan together? You know, since Des is being such a hard-ass about it.” He rolled his eyes as if the idea was a complete waste of time.

“Absolutely.”

By the time Libby had showered and changed, Paul had gathered up her supplies from the previous night and was waiting by the door. They walked to the car in silence.

If it was only a night of fun between friends should she feel as though her heart wanted to drop through the floor? He kept his distance, helping her pack the box of now half-empty vodka bottles in her boot without so much as a brush of his hand against her. A far cry from the demanding, delicious touch he’d given her last night.

Libby bounced on her feet, words escaping her.

“I guess I’ll see you soon,” he said, standing back on the curb with his arms folded across his chest.

“Yeah, see you soon.” She opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

Something told her each minute would be increasingly painful until she was in his arms again.

Chapter Ten

“Stop being such a baby!” Libby sat on a barstool at First, her laptop open in front of her and a half-finished cocktail next to it. She shook her head, sending copper curls bouncing around her face.

Paul gritted his teeth. “Do you really not see this is the stupidest thing ever? Now I know why so many businesses fail, it’s not poor management…it’s paperwork.”

True to her word, Libby had set a time with him to work on the business plan for the mixology school idea. She’d come to the bar on a quiet Tuesday night, and they were brainstorming and working through her template as Paul tended to his duties serving the few customers who’d trickled in for a mid-week drink.

“Why should Des trust your idea will work without a plan?” She reached for her cocktail and sipped it, her eyes narrowed at him.

“Because I’m his brother…and it’s a good idea.”

“No, that’s not how it works.”

“Maybe because I’m not type A like you,” he muttered under his breath as he polished a highball glass.

“Call me names if it makes you feel better, but we will finish this plan.” She huffed. “Although you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Because I don’t like planning out every unimportant detail to the nth degree?” He reached for another glass. “I’m a creative person, Libby, not an accountant.”

“That doesn’t mean you can forgo the numbers side of things. Des is right to ask for this plan.” She tapped at her computer. “You need to suck it up.”

“You’re exceptionally bossy, you know that, right?”

“Thank you.” The genuine smile that lit up her face made him laugh; only Libby would consider that a compliment.

Truth was he felt out of his depth. Numbers and market analysis and contingency funds were so not his thing. The joy of his work came in creating something new, something exciting. He loved the idea of teaching people how to experiment, how to pair flavors, how to make drinks that got people talking.

But this activity had only showed him just how different he and Libby were. She had a business savvy unlike anything he’d ever seen before. She even put Des to shame. Her understanding and knowledge highlighted that he flew by the seat of his pants…with everything.

All of that should have made him want to run for the hills, but it didn’t. And that terrified him.

“Okay.” She tapped her nail against the bar for a moment, her lips pursed. “We need to talk about your pricing strategy.”

“A hundred dollars.”

“For the class? How did you come up with that?”

He opened the dishwasher and started stacking the dirty glasses into the top rack. “It seems like a nice round number.”

“That you pulled out of your ass?” Libby shook her head. “You need to take this seriously, Paul.”

“What I need is to run one of these nights and show Des how good I can be. You know I’m better with my hands. If he just gives me a chance—”

“He won’t unless we get through this document.” The exasperation in her tone made it clear she wasn’t going to leave that stool unless he did what she said. “You asked for my help and I’m going to deliver it whether you like the process or not.”

“You know, I can see a little of your father in you.”

A deep pink flush rose up into her cheeks and she glared at him with the force of a thousand suns. “You did not just say that to me.”

“Didn’t I?” He raised a brow, enjoying knocking Libby off her high horse more than he should have.

Everything felt like a game with her, a challenge for him to seize. In the past, women had given in to him or he’d simply taken what he wanted. Even Sadie never challenged him outright—all her dissatisfaction came to fruition behind his back. Passive aggressive was her M.O.

But Libby stood her ground and dug her heels in, happy to argue until they were both blue in the face. It made his blood pump harder through his veins; she matched him. Butted heads with him. Pushed him and didn’t take any of his shit.

“You know what makes me different than my dad?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest and giving him an eyeful of beautiful, creamy cleavage.

“What?” He slammed the dishwasher drawer shut and leaned on the bar.

“I don’t push people because I think I know what’s best for them. I push people I believe in, especially when I feel like they’re slacking for no reason.” She sighed. “I do believe in you Paul…and in your idea.”

The words hit him as hard as a slap across the face. Now he understood why being with Libby felt different from all the other women he’d slept with. It wasn’t just lust. It wasn’t just attraction and tension and hormones. On some level he knew that she saw more in him than anyone else did. But that wasn’t part of their arrangement.

“You’re selling yourself short, and I’m not sure why.” She peered at him, her copper-colored brows wrinkling above her tiny button nose. “You deserve more.”

Wasn’t that the exact reason Sadie had left him? Because she didn’t think he had the potential to give her more, to give her what she craved. Success, affluence, status.

But Libby believed in him.

No, no, no. That’s not how their deal was supposed to go down.

“I…” He opened his mouth, but his brain had no words; there wasn’t a precedent for this situation. No one had said those things to him before.

Her eyes widened as she looked at him, waiting for a response that wasn’t coming. “I uhhh…where is the ladies room?”

He pointed to the doors on the other side of the restaurant and she hopped off her stool, scurrying away like a mouse that had escaped a trap. Pink and red danced in the distance as her hair flapped against the back of her dress, her heels clicking loudly in the quiet restaurant.

“Dammit,” he swore under his breath.

Why did she have to say those things to him? It was like taking a bite of the forbidden fruit, he could get addicted to her praise. To the way she looked at him as though he was the kind of man who wouldn’t disappoint her.

That was fine in the bedroom, but not out here. Not in the real world where he knew he’d crush that hope right out of her if he was ever stupid enough to let her in.

He had to draw a line in the sand and fast.

Libby braced her hands against the bathroom countertop and stared at her reflection. On the outside she appeared calm; her cheeks had returned to their normal color and her gaze was steady. Inside, however, was another story entirely.

What the hell was she doing telling Paul how much she believed in him? They weren’t in a real relationship. Hell, they weren’t even really friends. Their arrangement was supposed to be a business deal and somehow sex had snuck in…now she was giving him some impassioned speech about how he deserved more in life.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid.” She squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to breathe slowly for ten counts.

All she had to do was go back out there and get down to business. That wouldn’t be so hard, planning and strategizing were her strengths. And she wanted Paul’s idea to succeed because it would help her business…it wasn’t about him.

Yeah right, you’re letting yourself be fooled. Multiple orgasms should not make you forget why you don’t go near guys like him.

Squaring her shoulders, she smoothed her hands down the front of her dress, adjusted the little bow at her waist, and touched up her pink lipstick.

Game face on.

But the second she walked back out into First’s dining area her confidence melted like an ice cube on hot asphalt. A woman stood near her laptop, her forearms resting on the bar as an indecently short skirt rode up her long, lean legs. Miles of blond hair trailed down her back, gleaming like spun gold.

Paul grinned at the woman, his arms folded across his chest in a way that made his muscles bulge behind the tight confines of his black T-shirt. He laughed at something she said and raked a hand through his short, dark hair.

Bile rushed up in her throat as she approached. How many times had she watched this exact kind of scene play out with her ex while naively thinking that he loved her? Instead he’d been lapping up the attention, mentally picking out his next conquest while she believed they would be together forever.

“Libby,” Paul said as she approached the bar. “This is Cassie. We backpacked around Europe together a few years ago.”

“Far too long ago,” Cassie said in a lilting Irish accent. “Although parts of that trip are still fuzzy. You drank me under the table back then.”

“Still could now,” he replied with a wink.

“Lovely to meet you.” Libby stuck out her hand and Cassie shook it, smiling warmly. “Are you on holiday?”

“No I just moved here. Got sick of living in London where it’s gray and drizzly all the time. Paul kept telling me how wonderful Melbourne is so I thought I’d see for myself.” She looked at Paul with such adoration that Libby felt like she might vomit.

“You’ll like it here, Cass. Plenty of booze and partying.” Paul grabbed a pint glass and held it under the Guinness tap. “How about a pint of the black stuff? It’s on the house.”

“You’re a good man, Paul Chapman.” Cassie readily accepted the glass of dark liquid and sipped. “But I’m done with the partying, to be honest. I think I’m ready to settle down for a while and just enjoy being here.”

“You settling down, never!”

“You’d be surprised.”

Libby didn’t miss the look on Cassie’s face, the yearning and wanting that she’d felt herself at one time. She’d come here for Paul, and he was completely oblivious. Fire ran through Libby’s veins, jealousy burning like a wildfire out of control. She took a deep breath and tamped it down. Those kind of feelings had no place here.

“So, how do you two know each other?” Cassie asked.

An awkward pause filled the air.

“Libby is my girlfriend,” Paul said eventually. “We’ve been going out for…”

“About a month,” Libby filled in.

Cassie smiled—at least Libby assumed she was aiming for a smile, but it came out somewhere between that and a grimace. “I thought you didn’t do relationships.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and laughed. “I didn’t. But people change, I guess.”

An image flickered at the edge of Libby’s mind as Paul swept his eyes over Cassie. The two of them in bed, drinking, partying. Young and wild and having the time of their lives. She steadied herself by putting a hand on the bar.

Paul’s expression was guarded, his dark eyes revealing nothing. Did he still have feelings for Cassie? She would be here when their fake relationship dissolved, or would he try to break the rules and go back to her before then?

“I actually need to head off,” Libby said, reaching for her laptop and folding it shut. “We can work on the plan another time.”

“Sure.” Paul nodded absently. “See you later.”

As she walked out of the bar, heat prickled along her neck and scalp. She’d promised herself she’d never be in a position to feel like this again…and yet here she was. Wringing her hands and wondering what he’d do once she was gone. The sound of Paul and Cassie laughing haunted her as she fled.

It didn’t matter, he could do whatever he liked. The boundaries had to be established, and she’d remember this moment when that time came.

Libby’s hands shook as she put the finishing touch on the last of the custom cocktails. Thirty identical champagne flutes lined an ornate sideboard at Gracie’s mother’s house, each with the perfect amount of cherry puree and garnish.

She and Gracie had decided to debut Paul’s creation at the pre-wedding kitchen tea. It would be a perfect opportunity to gauge feedback before the big day and make any final tweaks, if necessary. Libby had the feeling it would be a tough crowd: a mixture of Cecilia Greene’s society friends and the very traditional Chapman family.

It would also be Libby’s first time meeting Paul’s extended family.

She could hardly believe it had been close to a month since they formed their arrangement. He’d slipped into her life quietly and seamlessly, but she already feared that his exit wouldn’t be so unnoticeable, especially since they hadn’t spoken after she’d left the bar abruptly a week ago.

“Are you okay? If you keep looking so nervous someone will mistake you for the bride.” Gracie patted her on the shoulder.

“I’m fine. You look lovely, by the way.”

Gracie wore a floaty red dress with huge, dangling earrings that chimed when she shook her head. Her dark curls were pinned up loosely, several tendrils falling down around her face.

“So do you. I’m so jealous of those heels.”

Libby looked down to the towering emerald green stilettos on her feet. They had plaited straps and a delicate gold buckle at the ankle. “They’re my good luck charms.”

“You don’t need them; everyone is going to love the cocktails.” Gracie grinned, her eyes twinkling. “And if they don’t, who cares? I love them and so does Des. By the way, he asked me to tell you to bring a few samples to the bar whenever you can. He wants to do a tasting session with a few of his regulars.”

Progress. Libby clapped her hands together. “Great, I’ll bring them around tonight.”

“Paul must be so proud of you. I have a feeling your business is going to do very well.” She winked.

The future for Libby Gal Cocktails was certainly looking brighter. After meeting with Des during the week, he’d agreed to take her on for a trial period. She’d drafted a press release, which had been picked up by a few Australian food bloggers and one online industry magazine. It wasn’t worldwide domination, but it was a start.

Since then she’d been contacted by a few smaller restaurants who’d expressed interest in her product. They weren’t as high profile as the ones she’d started out targeting, but they seemed passionate about trying new things, and she’d come to realize that was just as important as the size of a restaurant’s reputation. Not to mention a thirst for creativity over celebrity endorsement.

“Thanks. I think he’s proud,” she said, forgetting for a moment that she had to play the role of happy girlfriend.

“Of course he is.” Gracie shook her head, fiddling with the centerpiece in the middle of the table that would house all the food. “I can tell.”

The bouquet of white and silver silk flowers had been sewn with a smattering of crystals that caught the afternoon light. A lace tablecloth covered the dark wood, and two large white letters—G and D—sat on either side of the centerpiece. In that moment, Libby understood why some people got caught up in the excitement of weddings.

Ordinary things seemed special because they carried the weight of a greater meaning. The letters weren’t just G for golf and D for Delta. They represented the union of two people who loved each other enough to risk a lifetime of messy emotional entanglement.