Page 16 of I Almost Do

That’s a mistake. He has a reputation for being even more ruthless than my father. And I’d rather not test that theory on my friends.

I try to defuse her temper with a joke. “He’s already suffering. He had to marry me.”

“Don’t make me force self-affirmations on you. You’re an angel. Anyone who marries you is the luckiest man on Earth,” Franki says. She has a gentle, dreamy voice that makes her threat the equivalent of being pelted with cotton balls.

Bronwyn heaves a sigh, then stretches her arms to shove all of us away. “That’s enough of that. It’s getting maudlin. I’ve got a toast to give.”

James clearly heard this last part and says, “Absolutely not—”

She turns back to him. “That was a dick move you made at the wedding,” she says in a surprisingly quiet and measured voice.

“Bronwyn,” I warn.

“I said I’d be nice. This is nice. I’m not threatening him. I’m discussing the situation,” she says to me.

She turns back to James. “For the record, I don’t care if you make yourself look like a dick.” She pulls out her phone, opening her socials. “But I do care that you made a joke out of a wonderful person.”

Bronwyn’s voice wavers, and for one horrifying moment, I’m afraid she’s going to cry. Instead, her words get harder. “Not only does Clarissa not deserve this, but you don’t deserve her.”

His voice is impatient. “What are you talking about?”

She shoves her phone toward him, and I shiver a little at the rage that descends over his expression at whatever he sees there.

Bronwyn says, “So you weren’t deliberately attempting to humiliate her?” It’s not a nice, polite question. It’s a demand, full of disbelief.

He doesn't answer. Just reaches for her phone, tense with fury.

She stares at him. Evaluates his reaction. Then she puts her hand back out for her phone and says, “You can look at them later. Most of them are speculation about what’s so awful about your wife that you wouldn’t even kiss her at the altar. You’re trending. #ialmostdo.”

“God dammit.” He pushes the phone back toward her.

My stomach, already in knots, now feels like a ball of lead has taken up residence there. I make a gurgling sound—one part defeat and one part hysteria.

Bronwyn gives me a side hug. “Enough of that. Now that we know James wasn’t deliberately trying to embarrass you, we can work with this. I’ll give a speech that paints you two as fuckingfatedmates. Full-on destiny shit. I’ll make up a stupid story about the kiss on the cheek. Everyone will want to gag from how sweet it is when I’m done.”

She levels a scolding look at James. “But you two have to hold hands, look into each other’s eyes, and sell it.” The ice in my water glass is warmer than her words.

James’s blue eyes meet mine, and then he’s up and at my seat. He’s very careful as he offers me his hand and helps me arrange my skirt as I rise. With a hand on my lower back, he guides me from the ballroom. A few people try to stop us to chat, but James just keeps on walking.

The manager appears before us, concern written all over him. James barks a demand, and the man shows us to a luxurious lounge space—all velvet drapes and club chairs. The logs in the art deco fireplace beneath a marble mantle burn merrily against the far wall.

Sasha clears the room, speaking into her earpiece. Then she shuts the door quietly behind her, leaving us alone.

I can’t look at him. I don’t even want to. So I wander to the fireplace and watch the flames dance.

“I apologize.” His voice is clipped. Sharp.

I nod and pick at a seed pearl on my gown. I don’t say anything for a long time. I’m not trying to be a bitch—I just don’t have words.

He starts again, his voice like gravel. “I didn’t think about repercussions.”

That strikes me as odd. “Why not? You think about repercussions all the time. It’s part of your job.”

He moves in front of me, and his hands go to my shoulders. They tighten against me, and then he drops them.

“I planned to kiss you at the altar, but then you looked so nervous. I was trying to reassure you.”

Oh.“It was the audience. I wasn’t nervous because of you,” I say, and if that isn’t the full truth… well, I wish it were.

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