Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122506 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 408(@300wpm)
The viral Pulse Tok. Seeing her distress makes me feel dirty once more for watching it.
“I’m so sorry this has happened to you both,” I offer, meaning every word. “It’s so awful.” Awful that they’re being forced to run. Awful that, on the board game of my life, I’m about to be sent back to square one.
“There must be something we can do,” Fin says, his gaze seeking mine. “Privacy screens or something?”
“Perhaps we could—”
“You know how they are, Fin.” Evie pivots my way. “There’s this awful gossip column that hounds me. It’s called A Little Bird Told Us, and since that stupid Pulse Tok video, they’ve barely left me alone. They seem to know where I’m going to be and when, hiding in bushes and climbing lampposts. I can’t even catch the Tube anymore! It’s like living in a fishbowl, people staring at me and wondering Is that her—is that the girl from Pulse Tok? The one who had a mental breakdown in the church. I’ve become notorious—I just can’t be all over the internet in my wedding dress again!”
“It’s all right, darling.” Oliver pulls her to his chest. “It’s decided,” he adds, his tone determined.
“We have to leave,” Evie says, struggling to maintain her composure. “But we can’t do it without your help.”
“Whatever you need,” Fin answers, her distress pulling at both our heartstrings.
“You’re a good friend.” Still in Oliver’s embrace, Evie reaches out to squeeze Fin’s hand. “We need you two to get married in our place.”
Chapter 3
Mila
I consider sticking a finger in my ear and giving it an unladylike wiggle, because surely I misheard. Maybe she said they were getting married in space, which would be no less crazy than what I thought I heard.
I jolt suddenly as, next to me, laughter bursts from Fin’s chest. Loud and unapologetic, it’s like someone just told him the best joke.
“Evie, you crack me up.” He gives his head a slow shake; the kind that makes me think there’s some previous conversation behind it.
“I’m not joking.” But she is smiling, so maybe this is the kind of relationship they have. Maybe their friendship group is all about terrible jokes and winding each other up. Or maybe it’s a wedding tradition, sort of like the way a Cuban bride charges men to dance with her on her wedding day, the bills pinned to her dress much like they’re shoved into a stripper’s thong.
“In which case, you’re out of your fucking mind.”
So neither a joke nor a tradition. And the fact she still has her hand on his forearm seems less a sign of friendship and more an attempt to stop him running away.
“We don’t mean get married for real, obviously.” She gives what sounds like a pressure-filled titter. “Just pretend. You’d pretend to be the groom.” She turns to me. “And Mila would pretend to be me.”
“Me?” I squeak as a heavy stone plummets through my insides.
“Can’t have a wedding without a bride.” She smiles again, though this one looks more like a grimace.
“I can’t marry him!” I explode, my head swinging his way like a turret on a tank.
“Surely we haven’t found the one woman on the planet immune to your charms?” Oliver drawls.
“Pretty sure she’s aware of my charms,” Fin murmurs, sliding me a look that’s pure provocation.
My face bursts into flames—at least, that’s what it feels like—as I do a very solid impersonation of a guppy now. “B . . . b . . . but you have a mustache!”
“I know it’s a lot to ask,” Evie puts in, “and I know that thing is a little off putting—”
“Leave the ’stache out of this,” Fin retorts.
“Are we hurting its feelings?” Oliver asks. “I wasn’t aware it was sentient.”
“If you really don’t want to do it,” Evie continues, ignoring the ridiculous conversation both men seem to insist on, “I understand. It’s just—”
“That this will likely be the last wedding you ever book after I blacken your name in the industry.”
“Oliver!” Evie whips around and slaps his arm. “Don’t be an asshole.”
“Yeah, Oliver. Take a day off,” Fin puts in with a grin.
“Honey, you can’t always make people do what you want,” she adds.
“I seem to have managed so far.”
“Not even,” she says, pressing her hand to her hip. “And not right now. Not with that attitude.”
“Eve, be reasonable.” Oliver lifts his hands to her shoulders. “We need decoys, and the clock is ticking. And just a tiny reminder, darling. This was your idea.”
“Of course it was!” Fin’s second outburst of laughter sounds incredulous.
“But I’m not gonna force her,” she maintains, as though there isn’t anyone else present. Let alone the person they’re trying to persuade. Desperately persuade, even?
“No one’s going to force me to do anything,” I put in, holding my hand up like a stop sign. “And also, Mr. Deubel, I don’t appreciate your threats.” I don’t have to listen to them either—not given the state my business is in.