The Wedding Wrecker, page 10
"Couples against couples," Lily declared. "Though maybe we should go easy on the injured party."
"I’ll keep her comfortable," James said, his hand settling warm on my shoulder.
The touch sent another shiver through me. Especially when I remembered we'd have to share a bed again tonight. After this morning's... incident. Which we were never, ever speaking of again.
"Your ears are turning pink," James whispered, his breath hot against my skin.
"Shut up and deal."
"What are you two whispering about?" Lily asked with way too much interest.
"Nothing," I said quickly.
"She's remembering this morning—"
I elbowed him hard enough to make him grunt.
"What happened this morning?" Lily leaned forward eagerly.
"She—"
"Had a very small, super uninteresting incident," I cut in. "Nothing anyone would ever care to know about."
James caught my hand under the blanket and squeezed. "Whatever you say, princess. But maybe tonight we should establish a safe word—"
I stomped on his foot.
Lily bit back a laugh and shot Marcus a look, but he was distracted by something on his phone.
We played a few hands of various card games while Lily peppered us with questions about "our relationship" between rounds. I tried to focus on the cards and not how James kept absently running his thumb over my knuckles when he thought no one was watching. Or how good he smelled when he leaned close to check my cards. Or how his whole body tensed whenever I gave the slightest hint that I might be in a little bit of pain.
For a man who heartlessly crashed the wedding of my career and ruined two people’s happily-ever-after in Ireland, he was suspiciously good at being a caretaker.
"So what other activities do you have planned?" Lily asked as she shuffled.
"Winter picnic on Thursday," I said. "Though maybe we'll move it indoors given my track record with snow."
"Perfect timing," Marcus said, his professional smile firmly in place. "That's when your new celebrity client's video should be going live, right babe? The one with the high engagement rate?"
I noticed James sit a little straighter. Was he suspicious of Marcus because of his interest in Lily’s business? I could see how it was suspicious, but someone who wasn’t paranoid could also say it was sweet that he was so interested in her career. Some guys couldn’t be bothered to learn a thing about their girlfriend’s company. Marcus already seemed like an expert.
"Oh, right!" Lily brightened. "She has the cutest little cockapoo. I can’t wait to see the video.”
“Right,” Marcus said. “And it’ll be great for—”
"Well, well." A familiar voice made me cringe. "I’m surprised to see you alive and breathing after that spill on the slopes."
Dick sauntered over, followed by the trio of muscle brothers whose names I couldn’t quite remember at the moment. Richard Wellington, brought up the rear.
"I'm fine," I said quickly.
"Doesn't look fine." Dick perched on the arm of my chair, ignoring how James had gone very still. "I know some massage techniques that might help—"
"She said she's fine." James' hand slid possessively around my shoulders. The temperature in his voice dropped about twenty degrees.
"Just trying to help." Dick raised his hands in surrender, but his smirk said otherwise.
"Yes, well." Richard's voice could have frozen the fireplace. "We can't have the wedding planner incapacitated. I trust this won't affect your duties?"
"Of course not, sir."
"Excellent. Though perhaps, next time, you could be more of a professional and stick to activities more suited to your... abilities."
James stood. "Emma's perfectly capable—"
"It's fine," I cut in, touching his arm. The last thing I needed was my fake boyfriend starting a fight with my sister's future father-in-law. Even if the way he'd tensed to defend me was doing funny things to my stomach.
Mr. Wellington cocked an eyebrow in challenge at James, then walked off to order a drink at the bar. One of the muscle brothers gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“Feel better, Emma,” he said in his deep voice. “Let us know if you need anything.”
“Thank you,” I said, trying not to look at the clearly jealous fire in James’ eyes as the men walked off.
"Don't mind my father," Marcus said smoothly. "He doesn’t mean anything by what he said. He just likes to be in control, and he gets a little cranky when it comes to surprises or unforeseen events.”
“It’s alright,” I said. “He hired me to make sure you guys have the perfect wedding, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
We played a few more hands, but even though the conversation never touched on anything beyond innocent, idle talk and competitive teasing, I couldn’t help shaking the feeling that something was off about the interaction.
Eventually, Marcus and Lily excused themselves to go see about some alterations to Marcus’ suit for the big day. I offered to take care of it for them, but the two of them seemed to want the excuse to spend a little time together, so I dropped the idea.
Even though I was usually nervous to be alone with James, I’d grown tired from the ambient music playing in the lobby, the sound of the fireplace, and the white serenity outside. I ended up dozing off with my head in James’ lap while he read a book he plucked from the shelves in the nearby library.
When I woke, I saw it was getting dark outside, and James was idly running a hand through my hair.
Rule number one.
But I was too weak to say anything to stop him. I lay there a while, just enjoying the sensation of his fingers against my scalp. Finally, I stirred because I had to itch my leg.
“Ah, sleeping beauty has awoken.”
I yawned. “Sorry. You didn’t have to stay.”
“I wanted to.”
I cleared my throat awkwardly and sat back up. I could feel my hair was a mess, so I tried to tamp it down a little.
“Well?” James eventually asked. “Ready for bed? Or did you nap too long to go to sleep?”
“No,” I said, yawning again. “I’m definitely tired.”
“That settles it,” he said, standing and taking my arm, as if he was worried I might not be able to walk.
I gave him a look. “I’m just a little tender. I can walk, James.”
“Mhm. This is the same woman who confidently told everyone she could handle Thunder Ridge. I’m not sure I can trust you with your own safety, Em.”
Em. I’d told him not to call me that, but I couldn’t find the energy to correct him this time.
We didn’t talk much until we reached the door to our room.
James tapped his keycard to the electric reader above the door handle and paused as he was pushing it open. His eyes met mine, deadly serious. “Now… are you going to behave yourself? Or should I ask the front desk if they have any handcuffs I could use on you?”
For some completely unknown reason, the image of James handcuffing me to the bed did… funny things to my insides. I cleared my throat. “No. That won’t be necessary.”
“We’ll see, won’t we? But maybe we could establish a few ground rules about sleep-grinding. Probably best to make sure we stick to doing it through our clothes for now. Though, I suppose if you’re planning to sleep in that lingerie I saw, it would hardly count as clothing.”
I elbowed him, face burning as I slid past him into the doorway. My small laugh betrayed me. “I hate you. Have I mentioned that?”
“While you’re awake, yes,” he said, closing the door. “But your sleep moans tell a different story.”
I groaned. I might not survive this man, but I wasn’t sure which form my death would take yet. Death by embarrassment? Death by arousal? Or maybe I’d just suffer lethal levels of annoyance and burst into a ball of flames.
Compared to the mortification of waking up with his concerningly large, erect member between my legs again… I might take the flames.
15
JAMES
Neither of us had wanted to drag out the awkward dance of getting ready for bed, so we'd both retreated under the covers way too early, pretending to be more tired than we were. Now, we had both been laying in silence for several minutes, both obviously awake but neither willing to acknowledge it.
The quiet felt charged, filled with unspoken words and the memory of the day’s events. For my part, I kept replaying the kiss at the tasting. I hadn’t planned it, of course, but fuck. I found myself wishing she was mine to kiss like that whenever I wanted. If she was, I wasn’t sure we’d ever leave this damn room.
And yet…
Before Katie, I wanted to find “the one”. I believed there was actually somebody “right” for me out there. Now, though? I felt like happy couples were just unaware—they were the ones who hadn’t had the misfortune yet of figuring out their partner’s fatal flaw.
Relationships were opportunities for pain. They were foolish acts of giving your trust to somebody you could almost guarantee would betray it. And why would I willingly wade into those waters?
But this strange flirtation between real and fake with Emma was… well, it was the best of both worlds, I guessed.
I got to play the doting boyfriend when we were in front of people. I got to let that old part of myself out again, but we both knew it wasn’t real. That meant the hurt wouldn’t be, either, when things inevitably blew up between us again.
It was safe.
Except something in my gut said I was playing with fire.
I ignored my gut, rolling my head to the side slightly so I could see her profile in the dark. The moonlight cast everything in soft shadows, and I found myself oddly mesmerized by a reflective spot of white on her bottom lip. I found myself wanting to reach out—to touch it with the pad of my thumb and follow it with a kiss.
A few more minutes passed while I silently studied her before her eyes opened and she spoke.
We’d been pretending to be going to sleep for nearly half an hour, but it seemed like she was tired of acting like she wasn’t awake.
"I need to understand something," she said, voice oddly tight. "That wedding in Ireland... why did it have to be so public? You could have told them privately, saved everyone the humiliation. Saved my—" She broke off.
Apparently, rule number three was out the window. I thought back on that day and the conflict I’d felt. It was a nearly impossible choice. “I didn’t know you were the wedding planner at first,” I said softly.
“I’m pretty sure I made it obvious,” she snapped.
“I was… I really enjoyed our time together that night. I don’t think I was in the most perceptive mindset. I thought you were just a really overly helpful relative, or something.”
“But you did know eventually. And you still wrecked the wedding. I’ve tried, but I can’t understand why you did it. What’s the point in making a big scene when you could just tell them before everybody travels and wastes their time and money? It seems needlessly cruel and dramatic.”
I felt a surprising amount of bitterness rise in my throat. They were all questions I’d asked myself, of course. Hundreds of times. I wasn’t a monster. I didn’t enjoy watching weddings go up in flames. But I did care about doing what I thought was right, and these were the methods I’d eventually decided worked best. "You ever try to tell someone their partner's cheating?" I asked quietly. “Or that their husband has a gambling addiction? Or their wife is hiding hundreds of thousands in debt and they’re about to be financially ruined? Or that he is wanted for a crime in another country?”
"No, but—"
"It doesn’t go well. Sometimes, they simply won’t hear it. Other times, they confront their partner and end up giving in to their excuses and promises that it won’t happen again. They’ve changed. The wedding is already planned, and won’t they think of the embarrassment of canceling now. People believe in the lie of the perfect day fixing all their problems, as if a memory and some legal papers are going to change who their partner is. And the power of not wanting to go against the grain or embarrass themselves by admitting the engagement was a mistake is a powerful thing. Trust me. I’ve seen the kinds of shit people will put up just to avoid going down that road.
“But exposing the truth in front of everybody? That actually works. Something about seeing the horror on other people’s faces has a way of driving the truth home. It’s not love. It’s not meant to be. It’s just over. And if I wreck the wedding, then it should be over. I make sure of that.”
"So you just decided to become judge and executioner of other people's relationships? You get to decide if the problems between them are fatal or not?"
"The wedding in Ireland was already ruined, just like the rest of them," I said, sharper than I intended. "The moment he decided to cheat, it was over. I only made sure everyone saw the truth before legal documents got signed."
"There had to be a better way."
"Like what? Should I do the thing I know doesn’t work and try to tell them before the wedding? Or should I just stay out of it and let the wedding happen? No,” I said firmly. “I don’t want people to go through that kind of hurt. Promising to love someone forever… putting yourself out on a limb like that and placing all your trust in someone… saying the vows? You do all that only to find out they betrayed you, and how the hell are you ever supposed to trust someone again?"
She was quiet for a moment. "You sound like you're speaking from experience."
Smart woman. Too smart for her own good, maybe.
"My ex wife," I said finally. "She was sleeping with my brother. And three other guys. Probably more I never found out about."
Emma's sharp intake of breath was the only sound for a long moment.
"People knew," I continued. "They all knew. I think some of them even tried to tell me in their own ways, but I wasn’t hearing it. The truth didn’t stick for me until I was confronted with it at my own wedding. Only I found out after we said our vows, so I was dumb enough to try to stick with her to make it work. I was dumb enough to think the fact that we’d sealed the deal changed anything. I believed her promises to change, right up until I found out she was still cheating a few months later."
"James… I’m sorry. Nobody should have to experience that."
"Exactly,” I said, voice charged with meaning. “Maybe my methods are debatable. Maybe you still disagree. But I can promise you this much—I’m genuinely trying to help people. I don’t want anyone to feel what I felt, and that’s what gets me out of bed every morning. Well, assuming a beautiful woman isn’t dry humping me in her sleep and moaning my name already, that is.”
Emma glared, but her expression softened as she turned to face me. “I think your methods hurt people. Not just the cheaters. A wedding is a celebration. Relatives, friends, and co-workers fly in from all over to support the bride and groom. You’re not just sabotaging the bride and groom—you’re planting a seed of cynicism in everybody who attends.”
“Good,” I said. “People shouldn’t be so blind about love and marriage. They should know what they’re getting into.”
“You’re so caught up in how bad it hurt you that you’re the one who is blind.”
“Am I?” I asked, voice edged with anger. “Because I feel like I’m seeing pretty fucking clearly.”
“I think there has to be a better way. A way that doesn’t leave so much destruction in your wake.”
“Destruction of things like your career?” I asked, forcing the anger out of my voice.
"That too." Her voice shook slightly. "The wedding in Ireland was supposed to be my breakthrough job. It was my chance to prove I could handle a high profile, high budget wedding and knock it out of the park. Instead, it became the reason no one would trust me with anything bigger than a backyard ceremony."
"I'm sorry about that. I really am. But I'm not sorry I exposed him."
"And what about now?" She pushed up on one elbow, moonlight catching the curve of her hip and the swell of her breast beneath a thin shirt. "Is that what you're doing here? You’re only keeping my sister’s best interests in mind?"
“I want to do what’s right. And… if I was actually hired to work this wedding, I would only act if I found something worth acting on.”
“You’re still pretending you aren’t working the wedding?”
“I sign a confidentiality contract with my clients when I do work weddings. If I was working this one, I wouldn’t be able to tell you.”
Emma’s face darkened. “I’m not stupid, James. But… I love my sister. And if you hurt her somehow in this mess, I will never forgive you.”
“That’s not what I do,” I said.
“No,” she said softly, eyes falling to my lips. “You just… show up and complicate things.”
“Pardon?”
“You arrived and had your mouth on mine within seconds. You convinced everybody we’re a couple. And now I’m in your bed, James. Tell me that’s not complicated.”
Her soft voice, the moonlight, and the cold sheets… It all felt so damn intimate, and I wasn’t sure if I was reading too much into her body language, but—
"Emma..."
“You talked about trust,” she continued. “How do you think it felt for me when I trusted you with my body in that wine cellar? And then the next day you were destroying everything. Imagine what that does to a girl’s mind. And her heart.”
“I didn’t think I meant anything to you. I wanted to tell you that night, but I knew you’d probably go to the groom and bride. You’d try to talk them into working it out, and it would only lead to more pain for them.”
She was quiet for a long time. “And what about now, James? Why are you doing this? Why spend so much of your time here selling the lie about us to everybody? I don’t see what’s in it for you.”
“I thought I owed you after everything. I saw a chance to help. That Dick asshole was going to be all over you. I could see it the moment I walked in the door, and I just did what I thought was right.”
