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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“Well, for that to happen, we’ll have to hope there isn’t two feet of snow dumped on us overnight.”

“Christ, you’ve said it now.” I nudged her foot with mine, and she hit me right back.

“I told you to stay on your side of the bed.”

“No, you didn’t.” I grinned, and I knew I was holding her gaze, even in the dark—there was a magical little glint in her eyes that was always there, and I could see it now, even though it was almost pitch black. “You told me to keep my hands to myself. You said nothing about my feet.”

“Then keep your feet to yourself.”

“You can’t change the terms of an agreement after it’s been made.”

With a huff, she aggressively rolled onto her side and kicked my feet one last time. “Fine. Two can play at that game.”

I laughed, adjusting my covers over my chest. “Goodnight, Grace.”

“I doubt it will be.”

***

She was right.

It was not a good night.

Wind howled at the windows from around two a.m. onwards, disturbing both of our sleep, and whatever sleep I was able to steal was filled with thoughts of her.

Lying next to me.

Grace. Her smile and her laugh, her smartass comments, and what seemed like her endless, endearing wit and charm.

I was in fucking danger.

I was so inexplicably drawn to her that I couldn’t help but wonder if I was developing an obsession with her. She was fascinating in so many weird ways, and it felt like there was a part of her she wasn’t sharing with me.

Not that I was obligated to any part of her, of course. I wasn’t entitled to know any part of her life other than what she wanted to share with me, but we were no longer strangers. She knew about my family, and I’d learnt something about hers last night.

There was just a little something that was closed off. I didn’t know what it was, and while I knew I had no right to demand that knowledge of her, it didn’t stop me wanting to know what she was keeping locked away.

Perhaps that was why I was in the kitchen making a pot of tea while she showered.

Space.

Not that space was hard to come by in a big fucking castle, but still.

“There’s something weird about your girlfriend.”

I strained the teabags. “Good morning to you, too, Freya. Is this line of thought to stop you freaking out about the twenty-thousand feet of snow outside?”

“Yes, it is. Oh, good morning. Can I have some of that tea? I tried going into the main kitchen, but I was kicked out by the catering staff. Apparently, Grandma has enlisted half of Scotland to cater the wedding.”

I looked at her as she sat at the table. “Just as well, given that you invited half the country to begin with.”

“Oh, don’t start with me. I’m not freaking out at the moment, and I’d like to keep it that way.”

“Look at you, being considerate of other people.”

“Indeed. Have you heard from any of your friends if they’re able to make it?”

“I have. Alexander and Adelaide, Matthew and Eva, and Gabriella and Miles are all flying into Edinburgh today. Matthew and Eva were in Devon, and they have no snow down there.”

“Edinburgh? That’s not exactly close.”

“Miles assured me they had it figured out,” I replied, putting a cup of tea in front of her. “I haven’t heard from anyone else yet. I did text Hugo and Fred last night, but nothing yet.”

Freya’s head bobbed. “I’m glad the twins and Gabriella are able to come. I was starting to think I’d have no friends here.”

“You? No friends? Surely not.”

“William, for God’s sake.”

“I’m kidding.” I touched her hand. “Do you want some breakfast with that tea?”

She shook her head. “I’d like the snow to stop.”

“I think we all feel that way.” I smiled softly. “Now, I believe you were telling me there was something weird about my girlfriend.”

“Aside from the fact she’s not your actual girlfriend, of course,” Freya said with a sly grin.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I had my suspicions and did some digging. Absolutely nobody had any idea you were seeing anyone,” she continued. “So I can only deduce you’re faking it to stop Grandpa setting you up with someone.”

“Well, bloody hell, we’ve got Sherlock Holmes here. Call Scotland Yard,” I said dryly. “Yes, it’s fake, and no, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Don’t be daft. I went through the grandparent matchmaking service, do you remember? He spent six months trying to marry me off to the future Duke of Renfrew, and he’s a dreadful turd.”

I cradled my mug, leaning forwards on the countertop. “I do remember those summers.”

“Exactly. That was only one of them. I’d never subject you to such misery.” She sipped her tea. “But Grace—do you not think there’s something strange about her?”



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