Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51919 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 260(@200wpm)___ 208(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
The buzz in the room immediately goes silent when the music starts playing over speakers that I didn’t notice before. All of a sudden, a row of guys in black tuxes walks up the aisle. I wonder, briefly, why Philippe isn’t in the wedding party. Maybe he was asked. He probably refused. He did say he’d pissed his mom off, so maybe that was part of it.
Philippe’s hand is still entangled with mine. He rubs his thumb over mine, and my skin breaks out in shivers. I didn’t throw a sweater or a shawl over the dress because I felt like it would be a waste of such a beautiful dress, but now I wish I had. He can probably see my goosebumps.
The guys line up at the front, and they’re followed by a trail of five bridesmaids who are absolutely gorgeous. They’re wearing beautiful flowy red dresses, have their hair done in the craziest, most selfie-worthy styles, and each sport a huge bouquet of greens and the signature tiny white flowers poking through that match the rest of the décor.
When the bride enters, everyone stands up. She’s on her mother’s arm. I don’t even notice the amazing dress first. No. I notice Philippe’s sister’s face. I know her name is Jennifer because I do know a little about his family. I’ve never seen her before, not even a picture, and now I’m stunned. She’s a goddess. Really tall. Somehow, she’s lithe and curvy at the same time. She has flawless skin and gorgeous dark hair that hangs in a fishtail braid down her back, and she’s radiant as she slowly walks down the aisle. She could definitely be a model. Philippe’s mom, who I have met once—around the same time I started at the company—is an older version of Jennifer, but she’s every bit as beautiful.
They walk down the aisle together, and when Philippe’s mom hands Jennifer off to her new husband, who is blond, tall, and athletic-looking, it made my eyes misty. I don’t even know them, but both of them look ridiculously in love.
I’ve never actually liked weddings. I think they’re expensive and overdone. Wasteful. I’m also pretty skeptical when it comes to marriage. My own parents are still together, and my Granny had a good, happy marriage, but I just don’t know if I really believe it’s possible for most people now. When they make a person promise forever, I do think it’s a little bit ridiculous, because no one knows what’s coming down the road. I’ve seen my friends, colleagues, and other acquaintances go through such heartbreaks with their supposedly significant others. So how can you make a promise now for the next fifty or sixty or even seventy years without knowing how you or your partner is going to change, or if it’s even possible to change together?
All of a sudden, Philippe basically tugs me down, and I realize no one else is standing. I flush hotly at getting lost in my own head, but when Philippe casually wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him protectively, my head spins. Things get foggy and shivery, and parts of me start doing a happy dance.
This is fake. This is fake. This is fake. This is fake. I chant to myself.
But my chanting does nothing to calm my racing heart rate or my hardened nipples or the furious throbbing emptiness at the center of me.
It’s impossible to concentrate while Philippe’s masculine scent tickles my nose, and also when he makes me feel like I’m wrapped up in strength.
Before I even know it, the vows are over, the bride and groom kiss, and then the whole wedding party rushes down the aisle, dancing and bopping away to some peppy, non-traditional wedding song. Half the room empties out after them, probably to do the congratulating, hugging line thing.
I stand alongside Philippe, immediately missing his warmth when he drops his arm. I’m already nervous about having to hug people I don’t know and pretend like I’m legitimately glad to be here, and then I spot Philippe’s mom rushing our way.
I tense. It wasn’t showtime before. Now, this is showtime. I brace for awkwardness, but his mom circumvents all that, parts the crowd, rushes down the row of seats, and immediately throws her lavender-scented arms around me and pulls me in for the tightest bear hug I’ve ever had in my life.
CHAPTER 9
Philippe
I nearly groan when I see Sutton’s horrified face as she pulls away from just being squished against my mom’s bosom. She stumbles back, but my mom is all smiles and joy.
“I’m so glad you could make it! It’s so good to finally meet you!”
I was banking on the fact that my mom wouldn’t remember she’s met Sutton once when Sutton first became my assistant. It was just a brief moment in passing when Mom came to drop something off for me at work. I remember her seeing Sutton along the way, but I was sure she wouldn’t remember because it’s been a long time. When Mom comes to work now, I have the receptionist intercept her and call me. It might not be overly nice of me, but I’m afraid people in the workplace won’t like big hugs and cheek pinches and gushing monologues.