The Problem With Pretending Read Online Emma Hart

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Funny Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
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“Pillows, bouquets… Always hitting me,” he grumbled, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“At least this time you’d deserve it for making me stand there.”

William sighed. “I suppose I would.”

***

We danced all night.

Not dusk-to-dawn all night, but dusk-to-really-dark kind of all night. My feet finally gave in just before midnight, but the party was still in full swing. Most of the older guests had retired to their rooms or back to Duncree, but for the under sixties, the party was still largely going.

Aristocrats knew how to party.

I, however, was too old for this.

Yes, I, Grace, the twenty-eight-year-old, was too old for this.

In actuality, I was just tired. The day had started with chaos, settled into peace, then had become chaos again as soon as the DJ had hit the music. I was amazed this day had ended up as perfect as it had given how wild the last few days had been, but the wedding had gone off without a hitch.

Morag had even kept Chewy locked up in such a way he hadn’t been able to escape and cause his usual carnage. Not that I thought anyone was at risk from his particular brand of violence—that was undoubtedly saved solely for me.

A part of me wanted to visit him tomorrow and see if we could make friends. You know, when he was safely in his cage and couldn’t attempt to gauge my eyes out with his spindly little feet.

But for right now, I just wanted to go to bed and sleep.

Granny had gone to bed hours ago, and so had Carmen and Vincent. Apparently, Vincent had complained his way into making his mum leave, and Granny had declared she was too old to party all night.

It wasn’t hard to see where I’d gotten it from.

Luckily for me, William was also tired of the whole wedding thing, and put up absolutely zero fight when I’d suggested leaving. In fact, I rather got the impression he’d been waiting for me to mention it, given it was his sister’s wedding.

Well, I was happy to take the blame for this.

I didn’t party past midnight.

In fact, I didn’t party at all. Unless you counted watching TV in my knickers while eating sweets as partying.

I did, for the record, but only privately. Otherwise, I had to explain what I thought a good idea of a party was, and my idea almost always ended up with a jerky comment from someone. Usually a guy, asking to be the other guest at my party.

Sadly, for whoever it usually was asking, my parties were a solo affair.

A bit like my sex life.

Well, my sex life before William.

We hadn’t even had sex this morning and it was still the liveliest it’d been in years.

All right, so years was an exaggeration. I was hardly sworn to celibacy, but just because I’d had sex at various points over the past few years didn’t mean it was anything to write home about.

If this morning was anything to go by, that trend was about to change.

And thank God for that.

“Do I have to give you another piggyback?” William asked, looking at my feet.

“No. These are more comfortable than the ones I wore last night.”

“So why didn’t you wear them last night instead of the torture devices you chose?”

“Because they didn’t match my outfit.”

He ran his gaze over my body, then shook his head. “They’re the same colour.”

“No.”

“They’re both black shoes, Cinderella.”

“And totally different black shoes. These are strappy heels, the ones last night were closed toe, which is why they hurt more. They squished my poor little toes.”

“So why did you wear them?”

“Because they matched my dress better. I just said that.” I rolled my eyes.

“But how?”

“They just did, okay? Take my word for it and trust me.”

He shook his head again. “Thank God I only need one pair of fancy shoes.”

“Technically, you need more, depending on your suit colour. You can’t wear black shoes with a navy suit.”

“Grace, as much as I appreciate the fashion lesson, can we do it tomorrow? I’m tired.”

“You started it.”

“I—fine. I’m also finishing it.” He laughed and pulled his keys from his pocket, unlocking the door to our room. “Boy, am I glad that’s over. Freya might chill now.”

“She looked pretty chill when we said goodnight to her.”

“That’s because she’s drunk,” he replied dryly. “She’s always chill when she’s drunk.”

“William, your sister got married in Hunter wellington boots. She’s not nearly as uptight as you think she is.”

“Only because you talked her off whatever ledge she was going to jump off where her shoes were concerned.”

I closed the door behind me with a roll of my eyes. “You’re so dramatic. She wasn’t nearly that bad. Yes, she was upset, but it wasn’t the end of the world, and one of her friends brought her an extra pair of heels for the reception anyway.”



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