Page 15 of Gorgeous

Hayes and I have a bet going on how long they’ll last before they disappear. Hayes thinks Anniston and Theo will disappear after they say I do. I wager they will have a little more class and at least wait an hour into the reception. But after hearing Anniston, I think Hayes might be the winner tonight.

“Thad and his girlfriend Audrey are coming. Theo claims she’s knocked up.”

“Why does he think that?”

Anniston tries to mask her chuckle when she says, “Because he says no woman would stay with Thad this long unless she had to.”

Good lord. Just when I think he’s acting like a decent human he says some bullshit like this. “I feel sorry that Thad shares the exact genetic makeup as Theo.”

Theo and Thad are identical twins. They may look exactly the same, but they could not be more different. Where Theo is aloof and rude, Thad is caring and polite. They have a weird relationship that I still don’t quite understand.

Anniston laughs. “He’s only teasing. He’s secretly happy for him, but he would never say something so sentimental and make Thad think he was going soft.”

This I know. Theo shows affection through crude and crass remarks.

We take the steps slow so Anniston doesn’t fall over her dress, and when we reach the bottom, she turns, grabbing my upper arms so I face her. “Are you going to be okay?” she asks.

The answer to this question has everyone tiptoeing around me. They think I will lose it when Ans marries Theo, but times have changed.

Do I love her? Absolutely.

Do I think Theo deserves her? Grudgingly, yes.

Will my life change after she’s married? We’ll see, won’t we?

“You’ll always be my commander,” I say instead.

My answer makes her smile. “That’s right. We’re a team.”

A family.

The only people that matter to me.

I shake off the emotions, grabbing her hand. “Let’s go get you married so we can dip into Theo’s millions.”

We laugh along the way to the backyard where we pause at the flower-lined aisle stretched across the field. Theo is pacing at the front until Hayes pulls him to a stop, forcing him to turn and look at his bride.

For once in his ADHD life, Theo stands frozen, not moving a muscle as the music starts and Anniston takes a step forward without me. Apparently, she’s ready to get to her man. I pick up the pace, trying to slow her down to the beat of the march, but she doesn’t care. She moves at a steady clip until we reach the podium and the preacher asks, “Who gives this woman’s hand in marriage?”

Anniston turns to me, waiting. Clearing my throat—I should have grabbed a mint—I announce clearly, “I do.”

And then I place her hand in Theo’s.

“Sir. Sir. Can you open your eyes for me?”

I probably could but I don’t want to. I want the woman, with the voice of an angel, to keep talking to me, the beautiful cadence of her voice lulling me into a deeper trance. I feel her presence move closer, the heat from her body warming the frostbitten skin over my arms where the blanket didn’t quite reach throughout the night. Soft fingers, filled with warmth, press against my neck, her unsteady breaths grazing across my ear, sending shivers down my spine.

No sooner than she touches me, she pulls her fingers back and places them on my forehead. I want to close my eyes and relax into her touch, but the beeping of her phone pulls me back to the land of the living. Unfortunately, I’m still alive, and the last thing I need right now is a trespassing charge. “I’ll move. Don’t call the police,” I grumble out, my voice sounding as if I’ve been smoking since puberty.

Blinking a couple of times, I try to clear the grit and dryness from my eyes, and my God … those wide, mesmerizing blue eyes stare back at me curiously. Blonde tendrils escape the gray beanie pulled over her ears, accentuating the flush of crimson along her cheekbones. Ethereal beauty is the only way I can describe it. I’m staring at an angel in the flesh.

An angel who is about to call the police.

I blink back at the swollen lips pursed between wanting to speak and being in shock at seeing a vagrant on her property, and then allow my eyes to wander as far as they can in an effort to get a look at the hand still resting on my forehead. She pulls back quickly and stumbles.

“You’re freezing. I think you’re hypothermic,” she explains, her cheeks blushing even more from the wind.

I frown, making a weird noise in response to her concern, and attempt to sit up.

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