Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 133682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 668(@200wpm)___ 535(@250wpm)___ 446(@300wpm)
My heart squeezes with happiness for my two paired-up friends and their happily ever afters. But that feeling is chased by a tiny bit of jealousy. What would it be like to feel the way they do? Wildly content. Joyful, even, with their partners.
I’ve always wanted a big love—even in spite of what I saw in front of me growing up. Each time I went on a date with someone from an app, from a setup, from anywhere, I believed in the possibility of big love. Hoped for it.
Do I still believe in a happily ever after? Hard to say given my track record, and certainly a fake romance won’t help my cause.
But a smile tugs at my lips as I think about last night. It was the best date I’ve had in ages. Too bad it wasn’t real.
I head to the table. “Should we hold the shower in Paris? It’s not a bad idea,” I announce cheerily, shoving my romantic woes into a corner.
Josie looks up, her eyes alight with approval. “I’m not saying no to that.”
Maeve nods vigorously. “Maybe Charlotte could have her wedding there. Yes, convince your sister to get hitched in Paris on Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, sure. No problem. She’s only wanted a small town, snowy wedding her whole life, but I’ll see what I can do.” I sit, unwinding my scarf.
“Does that mean we need to order a snow machine if it doesn’t snow in Evergreen Falls?” Everly asks dryly.
“You know what? I think we do,” I say.
Josie chuckles. “From what you’ve told us, I bet Leo would be all over that for Charlotte.”
My heart goes soft once again. That’s another happily ever after too. “He’d do anything for her.”
And I try not to feel an ounce of envy for his over-the-top love of my sister. I’m happy for them. Truly, I am.
Besides, it’s not like I’m even on the romance market right now anyway. I’m on the sidelines this holiday season for all intents and purposes and that’s fine. Just fine. I had a taste of a great date, and that’s enough.
I get down to business. “So, she wants a brunch next weekend. Co-ed of course. And casual. She has a restaurant already booked, so all we have to do is plan some fun games.”
Josie nods sagely. “Planning games is my middle name.”
“Planning anything is,” Everly says, correcting Josie.
Maeve holds up one finger, stop-the-clock style. “But, more important, have you all gotten your sequin shorts for the bachelorette party?”
“Does Santa wear a suit?” I ask in faux indignation. “But of course I did.”
We get to work planning all the things. When we’re done, Maeve bats her hazel eyes at me. “So, how is it dating Wilder Blaine?”
I give her a look, then hiss out in a low voice, “It’s fake, Maeve. And you know it.”
She gives an over-the-top nod. “Right. Of course.”
“Maeve,” I warn her.
“But really, I mean it. How is it fake dating the man?”
I flash back to dinner last night, and how I felt when I walked into Dahlia’s and saw Wilder at the table waiting, his emerald eyes locked on me as I walked to the table. The way my chest flipped. How I felt a little fizzy.
“Perfectly fake,” I say, and I hate lying to my friends.
They’re my people. I trust them with my life. They’d bury bodies for me. But this is merely attraction for him, and nothing—not a damn thing—will come of it.
But there’s a problem. A big problem. And it’s not the stuffed Santa butt that’s sticking out of the box I’m lugging down the corridor of the Renegades stadium late on Monday morning.
It’s the wedding shower this coming weekend.
“The café fell through and every place I called is booked!”
Charlotte is freaking out as we talk on the phone while I make my way to the flagship team store, lugging a canvas bag of decorating supplies and a box full of pink shirts I designed before the start of the season—shirts we can barely keep in stock, but I just got a new shipment, so I’m hustling my way to unload them before I go to this meeting with Wilder.
I hoist the box higher and focus on Charlotte. “Why are you doing this?” My sister’s not the one who should be taking all this on. As the maid of honor, I should be organizing the venue. “I’ll make some calls. I’ll try Happy Cow, Morning Glow, Green Pantry…” Any of these brunch places would be perfect for a shower.
“I tried them already! Booked! All of those. With Christmas brunches. Hanukkah lunches. Holiday coffees,” she says, and I’m pretty sure the players on the practice field can hear her desperation. “And I would do it at our place but—”
“But you’re having the guest bathroom redone,” I finish. It’s been vexing her for some time. The prior owners of Charlotte and Leo’s new townhouse had inexplicably covered the bathroom in wallpaper featuring illustrations of couples on sex swings. Charlotte’s replacing it with a tasteful, yet cheeky, flamingo print.