Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 111742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 559(@200wpm)___ 447(@250wpm)___ 372(@300wpm)
“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” I ask quietly, grabbing under his elbow and pulling in an attempt to make him stand up.
It sounds like he’s proposing, which is ridiculous, of course. We barely know each other. And at my cousin’s wedding certainly isn’t the place. Even if I don’t care about the Miss Manners rulebook at this point.
Cole doesn’t move or let me move him. He stares into my eyes, and then I see it—the twinkle there.
He’s proposing. At my bitchy cousin’s wedding. In front of my whole dysfunctional family.
The same way he said he barged into the bathroom last night so that no one would be talking about me and Paisley, but rather about me and Cole, that’s what he’s doing again. He’s helping make this whole moment about something bigger, better, and brighter than whatever that bouquet beatdown was.
No one will talk about Paisley’s cake—which was in fact as bland as I expected—or her basic vows, cookie cutter reception, or even her doily dress. They’ll talk about my engagement in the middle of the dance floor to a man who loves me, Janey Williams, with all his heart.
I should probably feel bad about stealing Paisley’s spotlight. But I don’t. This is the culmination of years and years and years of mistreatment at her hand. And I didn’t want any of this. Again, my plan was to show up, be invisible, and go home. Paisley is the one who started it with her catty comments last night, and she’s the one who attacked me tonight. This is payback for her own actions.
I tear up. Not about Paisley and this whole sordid mess, but because the man at my feet, who’s a self-proclaimed grump, is willing to go so far as my fake boyfriend that he’s proposing. That’s so sweet.
I squeeze his hands and nod to let him know I understand.
His smile grows. “Will you do me the honor of letting me be your husband so I can love, cherish, and worship you all the days of our lives?”
Wow.
I know he’s faking, but that’s a damn good way to ask someone to marry you. It seems everyone else agrees too because there are sniffles and awws coming from all around us. Granted, that’s probably Max’s family, not mine, but still . . . Cole’s awesome and we all know it.
“Yes!” I shout. And then I say it again in case he didn’t hear me, or you know, the valet outside wasn’t listening. “YES!”
“No!” Paisley screams, but no one’s listening to her.
Cole stands and sweeps me into his arms, spinning us around in a fairy-tale moment that feels utterly magical. This is the kind of love I deserve, and I won’t settle for less ever again.
I mean, this is fake. I know that. But the real thing should be like this, with googly eyes, pounding hearts, and butterfly-filled stomachs.
Then, to top it all off, he kisses me.
And fake proposal or not, the kiss is very real. His lips are soft, though they press against mine firmly. His arms tighten around my waist, and I feel his fingertips press into my left hip, right over my tattoo, and remember what he said about it being a good luck charm. I thought he was making that up, but it feels true right now too. He nips my lip, one tiny bit of sharpness to keep me from floating away, and lowers my feet to the ground.
Cole’s smile is bright and wide, like he’s truly happy as he accepts congratulations from everyone. They talk to him more than me, but I don’t care. They’re my family, but their hold on me is gone.
CHAPTER 11
COLE
“Oh, my God! We did it! We did it!” Janey shouts as she dances and jumps around the living room of the cabin. She lost her heels in the truck and is currently barefooted with her gray dress swishing around her legs as she moves. “Did you see their faces? That was epic!”
She throws a few air punches and then a really bad kick, scaring me that she’s gonna fall but also giving me a shot of her black panties. “I was like bam, bam, and hi-yah when I was fighting Paisley.”
She wasn’t. Not at all. The girl can’t fight, which makes it that much more endearing that she thinks she can.
I chuckle as I sit down on the couch to kick my shoes off.
She freezes. “I feel . . .”
She presses her hands to her stomach, and for a second, I think she’s gonna say she feels sick because the look on her face is weird. But then she lets out a long breath, and though it makes no logical sense, she even looks a few inches taller.
“I feel free,” she finishes.
She’s been chattering away since we left the wedding, thanking me profusely and then asking if I saw the scratch on her face from Paisley’s nails, which I definitely did. When I jerked Paisley from Janey and saw the red streak down her cheek, it was all I could do to not destroy Paisley in front of everyone for daring to mar Janey that way. Not physically—I wouldn’t attack a woman. But with everything I know about Miss Paisley Roberts, now Mrs. Paisley McMahan, I could destroy her marriage and the rest of her life without ever leaving the dance floor.