Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83109 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 332(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
“Carry on.” Dex waves everyone off.
“Tripp and Dex Mitchell?” the groom says.
The back of my neck heats.
“Surprise,” Dex declares. “Your wonderful soon-to-be wife invited us knowing you’re a huge fan.”
I hang my head in my hand.
“This is so cool!” the groom says.
When I glance up, the bride’s mouth is hanging open.
“Umm, sure,” she says. “I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if they could make it.”
“The game last night was brutally close,” the groom says.
“We’re just going to sit down now and be quiet. Pretend we’re not here. We shouldn’t be stealing thunder from the happy couple. Right, Dex?”
“Right.” He leans in closer. “Is that a thing?”
“Yes, it’s a thing.” I push him to the empty bench seat at the back and slide in after him.
The whole time we sit there watching these random people get married, I try to imagine Dex and Jessica up there, but I can’t see it. Then again, I can’t imagine Dex and me up there either.
Dex isn’t the marrying kind. End of story. It’s no secret his parents’ divorce was messy and every divorce his mom went through after that. It’s obvious both he and Phoebe were affected by it. They’re not against commitment, just promising to love and obey until they die.
Beside me, Dex’s knee bounces.
Yeah, he’s definitely not the marrying kind.
When the bride and groom are told they can kiss, their guests break out into applause, but Dex turns to me.
“I have an idea.”
“Uh-oh.”
I don’t know what I’m expecting him to say—that we blow off golf and party with these lovely white trashy people, that he’s realized he could never marry Jessica; hell, it could even be that he’s quitting hockey to become a minister, for all I know—but what does come out of his mouth is so out of left field, I can’t be sure I hear it correctly.
“We should get married.”
Three
DEX
Tripp doesn’t immediately respond, and I worry I’ve broken him. He’s just … staring. A lot. I wriggle my fingers in front of his face.
“Did you hear me?”
“Did I?” He finally unfreezes and rubs his jaw. “I thought I heard something about marriage, but that can’t be right.”
I lower my voice so we don’t interrupt the people up front. “Come on, it’s the perfect idea.”
“Perfect?”
“Yes. Remember how pathetic I was at scoring from the left side of the net? How did I get over that? We practiced. This will be just like that.”
His whole face contorts. “This is … nothing like that.”
I try my best for the puppy dog eyes that have never failed me before. He immediately covers them.
“Nuh-uh. Not the face.”
“What face?”
“You know what face.” Slowly, he removes his hand, revealing his expression that I think is supposed to be exasperated but doesn’t hide his urge to smile. “Dex, are you following what’s happening here?”
“Yes.” Dumbass Dexter might be an accurate nickname from the media that I don’t let get to me, but while I might be a bit clueless, I can follow a perfectly reasonable conversation. “I’m asking you to help me like you did then.”
“No. You’re asking me to marry you.”
“Pretend to marry me.”
“You do know that weddings in Las Vegas are legal, right?”
I brush his concern away. “We’ll get up there and do the big fancy thing, confess our undying love for each other, and then walk away. If we don’t take the paperwork and file it at the county clerk’s office, then we’re not actually married.”
Tripp’s face pulls into a frown. “That’s true …”
“And it’s not like it will be hard to fake it. I mean, if those two”—I gesture to where they’re signing their paperwork—“can convince people they mean forever, we’ll have no issues.”
We both look toward the front. The couple is borderline trashy, sure, but aww, they’re so in love. He’s looking at her like she’s a cinnamon roll, and … it makes me sorta uncomfortable. I’ve never been looked at like that.
Which is fine, because not all relationships can be the same, but it would be nice for someone to see me in that way. That, despite my faults and my habit of saying dumb shit without thinking it through, someone could love me so strongly it’s obvious to everyone around us just by the way they look at me.
I lean toward Tripp. “Think we can sneak out without them noticing?”
“I wish. But you got us into this mess, and I’m not disappointing this guy on his wedding day.”
“Aw, you’re such a softie. Photos, then bail?” I turn to him only to find him already watching me. He looks especially freckly today, which might have to do with the lighting in here. It makes his pale skin stand out against the reddish-brown flecks.
“Sounds good.”
“And then wedding later?” I grin angelically, and Tripp starts to laugh.
“Fine. Yes. You can have your fake wedding. I swear you’re like a dog with a bone.”