Page 81 of Don't Date Your Nemesis

I cradled her face, promising filthy and sweet words in her ears as I demanded the driver to put gas on the pedal.

We had long lost the list of our rules, so it didn’t matter if we kept fulfilling our desires… and maybe even more than that.

PART III

“I don’t want to pretend anymore, Sharma.”

25

WHAT IF IT DIDN’T?

LIAM

The vineyard was perfect for Ethan and Kiara’s wedding in Napa Valley.

Too perfect, actually. It made you wonder if Kiara had sold her soul to get the weather that good. Golden hour sunlight filtered through grapevines, casting everything in warm amber. String lights hung everywhere, wrapped around trees and draped over the ceremony arch. Roses, thousands of them, probably, perfumed the air.

I stood at the altar as best man, watching Ethan fidget with his cufflinks while we waited for Kiara.

“Are you good?” I asked, hoping he wouldn’t get cold feet. He most probably wouldn’t, but if he did, I would do everything humanly capable to keep him at the altar. Or else Kiara would kill me with her slippers.

“Terrified.”

“She’s going to show up.”

“I know. That’s the terrifying part,” he smiled, his different-colored eyes gleaming in the sun. “I get to keep my Bella. Forever.”

The soft music started, and everyone stood up.

Then Kiara appeared.

She was beautiful, but what struck me was Ethan’s face. The way he looked at her, as if she hung the moon and arranged the stars just for him. He even had tears gleaming in his eyes.

I was genuinely and purely happy for them.

My eyes drifted to Deepika.

She stood across from me in a champagne-colored bridesmaid dress that hugged her curves and made her skin glow. Her hair was swept up, a few curls framing her face, and she was crying happy tears, holding Kiara’s bouquet as if it were made of glass.

She caught me staring and mouthed, ‘What?’

I tapped my lips.

She frowned. ‘What?’

I blew her a kiss.

Her face flushed pink, even from across the altar, and she mouthed back, ‘Stupid, Fish Boy.’

I grinned.

Fuck, I love her.

The realization made my heart stutter, my palms getting clammy. My grin vanished, and I looked anywhere but at her.

The reception was in full swing by the time I gave my speech.

I stood at the microphone, champagne flute in hand and trying to figure out how to be funny and sincere without making everyone uncomfortable.