Page 135

“It feels like I’ve loved him forever,” is how I choose to answer.

Gavin nods.

“Good. You deserve the best, and I can’t wait to stand by your side on your wedding day.”

Tears prick at the back of my eyes as he hugs me, and then closes the door behind me.

Right. At my wedding, where I’m in love with my fake fiancé.

I blow out a breath.

Then again, is what we’re doing really fake anymore?

I don’t think it is.

But we haven’t talked about it, and we need to.

I grab a bottle of water and some pain reliever before I return to my bedroom.

Preston is lying on his back, arms and legs spread wide, taking up most of the bed. I expected him to be asleep, but he’s wide awake.

He smiles the moment he sees me.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, and I laugh.

“You’re drunk.”

“Mmm, I am.”

“Do you want to take your jeans off before you go to sleep? I can help,” I say, and he gasps.

“You can’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Take my clothes off.”

“Oh. I was just⁠—”

He springs up. “Only one girl gets to do that.” He sighs and lies back down. “And she’s … wow.”

I grin and try again to help him take some of his clothes off so that he’s more comfortable, but he swats my hand away.

“No, no,” he says. “Only my fiancée gets to do that.”

“Ah,” I say and keep my hands to myself. “Does she now?”

“Yep, and I’m pretty sure she loves to take my clothes off, but she won’t admit it.”

“She wouldn’t?”

“Nope. She’s playing hard to get.”

I smile wider.

“How can she play hard to get if you’re already engaged?”

This is a fun conversation.