Page 18 of Her Fake Island Wedding

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled finally into Bryce’s shirt.

“Don’t be.” He never slowed his gentle stroking of her back.

“Was that Simon and Garfunkel?”

He couldn’t help but smile, though she wouldn’t see it with her head tucked under his chin. “Only you, Lucy Manning, would retain enough presence of mind to identify a song while in the midst of a panic attack.”

“It wasn’t a panic attack. Just a… a minor breakdown.”

“You’re so full of shit. It’s okay to admit your mother can drive you to panic attacks. How about we create some sort of signal we can use, which you can give me to let me know you need to get out and get some space to get yourself back together?”

She didn’t say anything, but she did nod against his chest.

“A signal word?” Bryce pushed.

“How about ‘Cecelia’?” Lucy suggested after a moment.

“See, I knew you were a Simon and Garfunkel fan really.”

Her tight grip on his shirt loosened enough for her to poke him in the ribs. “I just thought it’d be an easy word to work into conversation. Far as I know, there isn’t a Cecelia on staff here, but Mum won’t know that.”

“Perfect,” Bryce approved. He didn’t loosen his firm hold on her, or slow his stroking of her back. Several long minutes of silence passed, but it didn’t feel awkward. Lucy slowly relaxed against him, her hands spreading out to gently splay on his chest.

“Thanks,” she said finally, though she didn’t specify what for. Bryce figured ‘for everything’ would just about cover it.

“You’re welcome,” he responded. “Your mum’s a piece of work, huh.” He didn’t make it a question.

“She was behaving quite well today, actually.” Lucy tipped her head back to meet his eyes. “She does, when she has an audience of more than just me.”

“Christ, Lucy.” Instinctively, he tightened his hold, hugging her close. “Is it okay for me to say I don’t want you to be alone with her?”

“That is very okay.”

“I’ll spread the word. I’m pretty sure Rosie, Nessa and the other girls will be happy to make sure you’re always surrounded by a crowd.” Lifting his hand to her face, he gently swept a lock of her dark brown hair back from her cheek, cupped it in his hand. “How can you look so like her and yet be so different? You’re one of the sweetest, nicest people I’ve ever met, and Justine… is like a box jellyfish. Pretty to look at, but every tendril has a lethal sting.”

“That might be the most accurate description of my mother I’ve ever heard.” Laughter, true, genuine laughter, creased the corners of Lucy’s eyes. “I’ve been wondering all day if I was mad to have gone ahead with this plan, but right now, you being here with me is the only thing that’s making her visit bearable.”

“I’m here, and I’m staying,” Bryce promised, gazing into her eyes. He was sorely tempted to kiss her right then, but it would have been an utterly dick move. Instead, he hugged her closer, pressed his cheek against the top of her head. “Whatever you need, Lucy. I’m right here.”

She didn’t say anything, but her arm slipped around him and he felt her snuggle closer, turning her cheek against his head. After a few minutes, her breathing slowed, and he realized she’d fallen asleep. Carefully, he tried to disengage, leave her to rest, but even in her sleep she clung close, made a discontented sound.

Smiling, Bryce relaxed. If what Lucy needed was to sleep peacefully in his arms, that was what he would give her.

For as long as she needed, even if that was long after Justine had left the island, he’d give Lucy whatever she wanted.

Silently, as Lucy slept in his arms, Bryce admitted to himself that his feelings had gone far beyond a mere crush. While he’d admired Lucy before, spending all this time with her had only caused him to fall utterly, head over heels in love with the beautiful, brilliant, but above all kind and loving woman she was. Seeing her with Justine, the incredible contrast between two women so similar in looks but poles apart in personality, had only cemented his feelings.

Lucy Manning was the most incredible woman he’d ever met, and he was way, way in over his head.

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