Page 10 of Fake Fiancé, Real Wedding
Chest tight, I take a step closer to her and catch her fingers with mine. Hold her gaze. “If anyone threatens you or makes you feel uncomfortable, I will deal with them.”
A delicate pink stains her cheeks. Her full lips curl into the softest smile, and she gives my fingers a gentle squeeze. “I’m okay. But thank you.”
The need to wrap her in my arms, draw her into my body, and keep her close, keep her safe, slams into me with such force that I can’t breathe for a second.
The world shifts. Tilts.Everythingshifts. My goals, my dreams, my reason for existing. It’s all about her now. Del.
This beautiful, snarky, feisty young woman—who must be at least fifteen years younger than me—is my purpose.
Fuck.
Chapter Seven
Del
I twist the sweating cocktail glass—full to the brim with an untouched Fruit Tingle—on the table and huff out a sigh. “Damn baby goat.”
Stevie smirks. “Yeah, it’s the baby goat’s fault.”
Her party is in full effect. The garden’s gazebo is ours for the night, slung with fairy lights and throbbing with a constant beat, care of my specifically curated playlist. Stevie’s friends—new ones from Hartley Ridge and old ones from her university and school days—are dancing and chatting. There are costume wings aplenty, and the party looks like the most eclectic collection of fairies ever to congregate.
I should be in the middle of it all, shaking my butt and wings, my spectacular fairy makeup dazzling everyone.
When it comes to cosplay, I am a freaking superstar. It’s why I have over four million followers on Instagram. It’s also why I try to keep my real life separated from it. Some of my followers are a little…single-minded.
I uploaded a single post an hour ago—location set to private—showing off my punk-fairy outfit with its studded dog collar, black glitter-splattered gauze wings, black faux-leather corset and tutu, and was inundated with comments. Good for the ego, but I need to be in Awesome Cousin Del mode, notCosplay_Delmode.
I’d planned to cut loose tonight. To have fun, drink a little, dance a lot, and celebrate my cousin getting married.
Instead, I’m staring at my untouched cocktail and thinking about Lachlan freaking McKenzie.
“Definitely the baby goat that did it,” I mutter, twisting my glass. “I wouldn’t be in this situation if I hadn’t seen him holding it.”
I picture Lachlan surrounded by animals in the back of the truck, the baby goat in his arms, his feet planted, biceps bulging, thighs doing the same, his shirt stretched to maximum integrity…
“Ahhh, we’re talking about the Lachlan McKenzie situation?” Stevie asks, sitting opposite me. Her wings shimmer and little showers of purple glitter fall from them as she takes a sip of her own cocktail. “Is that why you’re sulking?”
I dip my fingertips into my cocktail and flick them at her. “Oh, shush. I knowyou’reliving a fairy-tale happily ever after—hence the theme of tonight—but I don’t live in your world. I’m not a romantic fool.”
“Hey!” she protests on a laugh. “Watch it, or I’ll dump you as my bridesmaid.”
“No, you won’t,” I chide, grinning.
She laughs again. “True. But, Del, you are allowed to have feelings for people, you know. And Lachlan McKenzie is a very impressive-looking guy.”
“He must be atleastten years older than me,” I say. “Maybe even fifteen.”
Stevie cocks an eyebrow at me and says nothing.
I roll my eyes. “Okay. Fine. Who cares about the age difference? But as far as excuses go tonotthrow myself at him, it’s the only one I can latch onto.”
“At least you’re finally being honest with yourself,” she says around another sip of her cocktail. “Go for it, I say. Throw away.”
I scowl at my drink. “I have no clue where he is.”
Every movement from the corner of my eye tonight has made me look. At first, I thought I was on edge because of my privacy-invading Instagram fan, but after noticing I wasn’t scared but disappointed, I realized it was Lachlan I was looking for. Hoping to see.
To have him seeme.
