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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She had a point.

“What if,” I said slowly. “I occupy Grandpa and Dad for an hour so you can figure this out. Would that help?”

“Are you trying to help, or are you trying to get out of it with that dreadful attempt?”

“A little bit of both,” I admitted.

Freya sighed. “I suppose it’s not entirely unhelpful. Get James, too. You’ll have to begin calling people and telling them to get here sooner rather than later.”

“Why do I have to do that?”

“Because you’re my brother and it’s the nice thing to do.”

“She’s right,” Grace interjected. “And really, it’s the easiest thing. If the weather is going to be this bad, we’ll have to contact the vendors, and that’s far more work than a few guests. You really only have to contact the most important ones, but it has to be done sooner rather than later. There are many who might decide not to travel, and they may be able to cancel any reservations they have with enough notice.”

I blinked. “Isn’t the idea to get all the guests here?”

“Yes, but some might not be able to change their plans.” She put her phone on the side table and wrapped her arms around herself. “Childcare, work, full flights or trains… It’s best to give them as much time as possible. If there’s a list with everyone’s emails, it might be best to mass email and text them.”

“There are three hundred people on the guest list!”

Grace walked to the plug by the tv, unplugged my phone charger, and brought it over to me. “Then you’ll find this to be helpful.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. I had not signed up for this. “Okay. This won’t be hell at all.” I glanced at the armchair where Freya was sitting with her face in her hands, and guilt twined itself into a knot in my stomach.

She’d been planning her wedding for eighteen months. She’d deliberately chosen this time of year so there would likely be snow, but not so much that it would cause issues. She’d planned everything to the absolute tee, and as much as we bickered and teased one another, she was my sister.

I loved her.

And even if calling and emailing three hundred people was my idea of hell, I’d do it.

“All right,” I said, putting my charger on the sofa. “Give me ten minutes to shower and get changed, and I’ll rally everyone else out of the castle so we can figure this out.”

Freya jerked her head up and looked at me with her eyes wide. “Really?”

“Yes, really,” I replied dryly. “You’re a pain in my arse, but you are my sister.”

She fought back a smile. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“There’s no ‘might be’ about it.” I glanced from her to Grace with a gentle curve of my lips. “It is.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN – GRACE

I Am Not A Party Planner

“Are you done yet?” Freya asked, knocking on the bedroom door. “Ten minutes my arse!”

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Jesus fucking Christ, it’s like living with Mum all over again,” William said from the other side.

“You still live with her!” Freya yelled back.

“I live on the property, not with her!”

“It’s the same thing!”

Oh, my God.

Their bickering was insane. I’d honestly never heard anything like it. It was juvenile, ridiculous, and absolutely hilarious all at the same time.

It was just… petty. Daft little swipes at each other, the kind that actually made me a little sad I didn’t have any such relationship with my own brother. Vincent and I had always gotten along, but we’d never been close, not like this.

Not that it was surprising, given the family dynamic.

I wasn’t the person he’d rush to in a crisis, not like Freya had to William. It was clear to me that he was the most comfortable one for her to turn to, not their parents or their grandparents or even her fiancé.

No, her brother.

That’s why their bickering was funny.

To me, it was clear they adored one another. Something about their body language and the looks they shared screamed of a close sibling bond, despite what their words said.

I didn’t know why I’d stepped in. I didn’t know why I’d put myself in this situation where I was going to help. I wasn’t entirely sure there was such a dramatic crisis, even with the weather forecast.

The wedding was still four days away. A lot could change between now and then, not least the weather. British weather was exceptionally fickle, changing its mind at the barest whisper of a breeze in another direction. Literally, sometimes.

Also, I wasn’t sure the Met Office even knew what they were doing half the time. I’d once opened their app to check my local weather for it to tell me it was raining… while I was standing in a cloudless sky. You could say I had a hefty dose of scepticism where they were concerned.


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