Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 634(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 423(@300wpm)
Hell, this relationship was the closest I’d had to a real one in years and it was the fakest thing I’d ever partaken in.
I couldn’t help but believe in fate. We made our life what it was by the decisions we made, but something had brought her back into my life. I didn’t know what it was, but she was here for a reason.
And she wanted to leave my life as quickly as she’d re-entered it.
The bingo had been fun. A playful joke, an indulgence, almost. Something to help us pass the time and the stress of the wedding that was playing on my entire family, but the outcome of her winning was incomprehensible to me.
I couldn’t let Grace go. More than anything, she was a friend. She had been a friend, and we’d connected so easily since she’d landed in Inverness that she was now, too. I truly counted her as one, even if I wanted something more.
Shit, did I?
I didn’t know. I just knew I was drawn to her in a way I couldn’t explain. Everything was so easy with her. It was all so natural—holding her hand, hugging her, sleeping next to her. All entirely platonic, but it felt like so much more every time we touched.
I was sounding like a fucking lovestruck ninny, I knew that, but I couldn’t explain it in any other way.
I wanted to respect her wishes to never talk to me again when she left here. The best way to be a friend to her was to respect her boundaries, and I really did want to do that for her.
Which was why I hadn’t kissed her.
If I kissed her, even once, I knew I’d never be able to do it. I already knew that one tiny action, that simple touch, was the one thing stopping me from admitting that I wanted more than friendship from her.
That I was developing feelings for her.
If I kissed her, I’d have to admit it. If I kept my mouth to myself, I could pretend it didn’t exist, that she wasn’t constantly on my mind, that we really were only friends.
I was dreading the wedding.
Dreading having to act like we were really together for an entire day.
I’d have to avoid her as much as possible today. It wouldn’t really be too much of a shock for us to not spend too much time together—it was a busy day, and there was something to be said for the bride’s brother being a part of that.
Shit.
I was a wimp.
“Good morning!” Freya said brightly, skipping into the kitchen. “Ooh, you made tea! Splendid.”
I frowned. “You’re cheerful this morning. Are you on drugs?”
Freya stared at me, her lips curving into a rueful smile. “Sadly, no. I have simply decided to be happy.”
“No. You’re an imposter. My sister is never happy.”
“Oh, you’re a mean git, William.” She grabbed a tea towel and half-heartedly swatted at me. “I spoke with Grace not long ago. I was having a moment, and she talked some sense into me.”
“Everything you just said terrifies me in ways you cannot possibly imagine.”
Freya poured her tea and looked into my mug, refilling it from the pot without asking.
Yep.
I was scared.
“I was crying because my shoes are stuck in Edinburgh,” she explained, stirring her tea. “I might have been slightly unreasonable to everyone, but she took me aside, sat me down, and reminded me that James doesn’t care what shoes I’m wearing. Nor, for that matter, does anyone else.”
“She’d be correct.”
“William,” she scolded me. “She reminded me that the most important people are here or can get here, and it doesn’t matter what we’re wearing. I don’t need shoes or a dress to get married, I just need James.” She paused. “And an officiant and a witness, but that’s the technical side of things.”
“You also have both of those things.”
“True. Anyway, she pointed out that my outdoor photos wouldn’t happen in heels anyway, because I’d break my leg on the ice and snow.”
“To be fair, you’d do that in any shoes.”
“I know. That’s why I’m wearing wellies.”
I stared at her. “You’re wearing wellington boots for your wedding shoes?”
She shrugged. “Grace offered me a pair of her shoes since we’re the same size, but the wellies seemed like a good idea.”
“You’re going to walk down the aisle in wellies?”
“Yes. You’re the one who just agreed that nobody cares what shoes I’m wearing. Why does it matter if they’re wellies?”
“I thought you meant outside. You’re going to squeak your way down the aisle like one of those clowns-for-hire, Freya.”
She laughed, pulling up a stool. “Maybe. At least it’ll be funny.”
I blinked at her. “You’re really scaring me now.”
“Oh, stop. I know I’ve been a nightmare bitch, and I’m sorry. Truly. I got so wrapped up in the wedding that I forgot about what matters—the marriage. Grace helped me realise that this morning. The wedding is just the means to an end, and the end goal is that I get to spend the rest of my life with James.”