Page 35 of One Pucking Heart

Beckett and I sit on a balcony overlooking the “town square.” The interior of this place seriously looks like a scenic and quaint Italian city. Even the ceiling is painted a sky blue with fluffy clouds.

“Do you feel any different?” Beckett asks, taking a bite of the tiramisu we’re sharing. “Being married.”

I down the rest of the red wine in my glass. “My head feels a little fuzzy from this wine, but other than that, no. Do you?”

“Not really. It doesn’t seem real. Like I know we’re technically married, but everything feels the same.”

“Yeah, it does.” Even as the words leave my mouth, I know they’re not entirely true. So much has changed over the two months I’ve known Beckett. I came into this job with a preconceived notion of the man across from me. I disliked him before ever meeting him. Many of the things I read about Beckett are true, but it only paints a small picture of who the man really is. Maybe I don’t feel different being married, but my feelings, overall, are vastly different. I love spending time with Beckett. He’s fun and caring. He makes me feel good about myself and brings me joy every day.

This marriage is fake—we’re both very clear about that. Neither of us wants to be married, but when it’s over and we go back to our regular lives, I’m going to miss his company.

He sets his spoon on the tiramisu plate beside my uneaten half. “What do you want to do next?”

It might be in my head, but I swear my dress is getting tighter with each bite of carb heaven I’ve consumed over the past hour. “We could get changed into more comfortable clothes and head to the casino for a bit?”

Beckett nods with approval. “That sounds like a solid plan. What’s your favorite game?”

I shake my head. “I’ve never really gambled besides a little poker with Marcella and some of the other staff when I was younger.”

“That Marcella sure was a great influence on you.” He chuckles. “Well, I’m partial to blackjack. My sister loves roulette. Although the Deal or No Deal Slot machine is addicting, just fun and easy. We’ll try ’em all.”

“Okay, but we have to be careful and only bring a little bit of money into the casino. Once it’s gone, we’re done. I don’t like wasting money.” In reality, now that I think about it, the thought of gambling makes me feel slightly ill. People just throwing away money like that doesn’t sit well with me.

“Don’t worry about the money. I told you, I got this weekend covered. And don’t think about it as losing money. Think about it as entertainment. If you were going to a show or out sightseeing, you’d expect to pay money. It’s the same thing. It’s just the price of entertainment.”

“That’s easy to say for someone who has money.”

He pins me with a stare. “You have money now, too.”

“Maybe. Doesn’t mean I have to live like I do, though.”

“Fair enough.”

The server returns with Beckett’s credit card, and we stand to leave. Beckett asks the server to take our picture. We stand in front of the vine-covered balcony with the view of the Italian town center behind us. Beckett wraps his arm around my waist, and the server snaps a few pictures.

We take a second to flip through the photos.

“Sure is beautiful.” I reference our surroundings.

“You sure are.”

He attaches one of the pictures to a huge group thread with the caption, “After marriage dinner.”

“Who are you sending that to?”

“The team’s group chat, Iris, my parents, and Ari.”

“What?” I gasp. “You’re texting with Ari?”

Leaning in, he plants a kiss on my forehead. “Just keeping all the important people in our lives up to date on our wedding weekend. I sent them some pictures of the service and Elvis, too.”

“Why? You had no right to do that, Beckett.”

He raises a brow. “You want this to be believable, right? Well, if I’m marrying someone, I’m shouting it from the rooftops. To not send photos would be weird. And not communicating with Ari will make it worse. We just have to keep her in the loop and hope she eventually comes around.”

“Fine. You’re right.” I sigh.

He closes the distance between us and presses his lips to mine. He kisses me gently, and the anxiety that threatens to surface dissipates as I melt into his kiss.

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