Page 16 of The Fake Husband
It's Derek.
I can't see him that well, but even all the way from here, I can feel some kind of fury radiating off him.
Without taking my eyes off the asshole, I capture Nadine's mouth in another kiss while I slide back her bikini.
She's mine now, Derek. And I won't make the same mistake you did because she's enough. Nadine is more than enough.
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5
NADINE
River is already dressed, and all I can think about is he fills out a suit jacket the way suits are theoretically designed to be filled out but rarely are in practice. He has no business looking this hot. I mean, he's already devastating in plaid shirts and Henleys, but this version of River?
I might as well forgo the underwear because it will just get drenched anyway.
He's sitting on the edge of the bed reading something on his phone, completely unbothered, which is either genuinely relaxing to be around or the most effective passive pressure I've ever experienced.
I set my hand down on the bathroom counter, finish the eyeliner, and step back from the mirror. The dress is good—navy, simple, also beyond my budget. But what the hell. We got fake wedding rings, so might as well go all out. Also, maybe I bought the dress because of how River raked his gaze up and down my body.
At the time, I was still living in denial island, but after last night and the pool, I know for sure River sees me so much more than his sister's best friend.
Speaking of my sister. God, Rachel. How would we tell her? Am I the worst best friend in the world? She trusted us—trusted ME—to behave because it's supposed to be fake. Now, how do I even admit I basically just had the most erotic weekend with her brother? And we haven't had actual sex yet!
Does she have her suspicions? I haven't exactly responded normally to her texts. Instead of lengthy, run-on sentences with details that border on TMI, I just told her we're good, it's working, and both Derek and Alice are affected. I did compensate with a million emojis.
Taking a deep breath, I fluff my hair a bit, even though I've already used enough hairspray to suffocate and kill me.
When I finally emerge fully prepared, I do a small turn. "How do I look?"
River sets his phone down but doesn't answer immediately. He drops his phone to the bed and drags his eyes over me, from my bare feet to my mouth, then dropping to my chest. His throat works once, and that's enough to convince me I look good.
"River, is that good or bad?"
He tilts his head to the side, and that slow, dangerous smirk curves into place. "Baby, you look like you're about to make some people reconsider their life choices. You're about to reduce everyone else into a knockoff version of you."
Oh God. I'm keeping that.
The chapel issimple but elegant—white folding chairs, a driftwood arch, string lights already glowing in anticipation of dusk. Derek stands at the altar looking polished and precisely one inch taller than usual, which I recognize as his Italian leather wedding shoes.
He wears a suit with something glittering … wait, are those crystals along the stitches? God, he really wants to shine literally.
Alice arrives in organza and lace, her train carried by a small child. The dress shows off her curves, the shade complements her skin perfectly. She looks like she belongs at the end of this aisle with Derek waiting for her.
This observation comes with no particular emotion attached to it, which is perhaps the strangest part.
River's shoulder is warm against mine. The one I bit last night. I wonder if it still has some bite marks? He really turned me into an animal at the pool.
His hand covers mine on my thigh, and yes, it's a simple hand holding, but his hand is way too close to the junction between my thighs that my brain just goes … there.
The next hour is a blur of promises, smiles, and kissing of the bride.
When I received the invitation, there was a tiny part of me that was scared I hadn't actually moved on. That I'd take one look at Derek being happy with someone else and feel crushed.
That's so not the case.
I spent six months trying to be the right kind of person for Derek. Watching him choose Alice Allison—I think about the alliteration every time—I understand, maybe for the first time, that the problem was never that I wasn't the right kind of person. The problem was that I was trying to be the right kind of person for Derek, which is the single most avoidable mistake I have made in my adult life.
