Page 80 of Wedding Season
In the end, working side by side with him in the kitchen was more enjoyable than cooking on her own. He turned on music, and she got to witness another thing that made Alex seem truly human. He was a horrible dancer. Endearingly so because he didn’t care.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever met a man more comfortable in his skin and she appreciated it more than she could tell him.
They ate at the table and then cleaned the kitchen together, the same way they prepared the food. Well, the cleaning took a bit more effort because there were still the remnants of her disastrous sauce episode to manage.
When they were finished, Mariella would have invited him to watch TV. Before she could speak, Alex drew her into his arms.
“I’ve missed you,” he told her.
“You’ve seen me every day this week.”
“I’ve missed this.” He buried his face in the crook of her neck then left a trail of fire as he drew his mouth along the sensitive skin of her throat and collar bone. “It’s all I’ve been thinking about—you warm and willing.”
She leaned away so she could look into his eyes before he kissed her so senseless that she forgot even her own name. “You think of me as warm and willing?”
“It’s a fact.”
“Do you ever wonder if I’m just going through the motions?”
Alex frowned, and she wondered if she’d gone too far with the question.
They had great sex. No doubt about it. The best of her life. But she still felt insecure—not that she didn’t know what to do or how to do it—but maybe she wasn’t as open as she should be.
“What’s this about? And don’t tell me that you’re still thinking about Jacques. I can handle a lot, but I’d rather eat a week of runny eggs than hear you’re worried about your ex-boyfriend while I’m kissing you.”
“No. I’m thinking I don’t want to disappoint you. I’m happy right now.” She laughed, studying the color of his shirt. “That makes me nervous. I don’t trust happy.”
“You can trust me,” he said. It wasn’t the first time he’d told her that.
“I know. It’s not you that I’m worried about, Alex. It’s me.”
“You’ve got this,” he assured her. “Remember my faith in you.”
That still didn’t feel natural, but it was the whole reason she’d invited him over. She wanted to prove she could handle the normal parts. The good parts. She could handle being happy.
“Can you stay the night?” she asked. “We might not have much quiet time together until after this weekend and...”
“I’d love to stay,” Alex said and then kissed her again. They moved into her bedroom where the light from the street cast a warm glow over her bed.
She liked her bed better when Alex was in it. She liked herself better with him. Now she just needed to work on her belief in faith, especially in what they had together. That it was more than burnt sauce and a change in dinner plans. When she looked in Alex’s eyes, anything seemed possible, including a future.
CHAPTER TWENTY
WITHTHEWEEKENDof the Magnolia Blossom Festival upon them, Mariella seriously considered going dark or at least trying to avoid Amber.
Facing the woman who had set out to destroy Mariella’s career after taking her fiancé to bed had been easier in theory than reality.
She could have managed any variety of festival details and made it look like she was busy and not in stealth avoidance mode. But Mariella would have known. Alex would have realized what she was doing. Amber would have loved it. And there was no way Mariella would give that woman the satisfaction of knowing how much her short stint in Mariella’s life had left its mark.
Which is how Mariella ended up in the formal sitting room of the Wildflower Inn, flanked on either side by Angi and Emma, as Avery Atwell went through the list of activities and events Drake and Amber were each scheduled to attend. The crew was busy setting up for the scene they’d film today in one of the upstairs bedrooms.
The film producers had rented out the entire inn, which made Emma happy, although neither of the stars was staying on property. Mariella figured Drake and Amber needed more than one paltry room each, no matter how tastefully decorated.
It had been awkward seeing the bride whose wedding she’d crashed, although Mariella couldn’t summon any of the bitterness she’d once held toward Amber.
She nearly—but not quite—felt sorry for the woman, whose narcissism wouldn’t allow her to admit what a mistake she’d made by treating Alex so badly.
Amber had been pleasant to Emma and Angi in the way Mariella imagined visiting monarchs would be when shaking hands with someone they deemed worlds beneath them.
