Page 61 of Oliver
I pressed my palm against the small of Zahra’s back, leaning in. “Haven’t had a chance to watch my brilliant girlfriend in action.”
“Sorry, Beck, but it’s wedding party only,” Ryan said, followed by an apologetic shrug, but I could see the violent rage barely contained under his pretense of indifference.
“Come on. Please?” I kept my eyes firmly on Parisa and Darryl, making it clear I knew who was calling the shots, and that it wasn’t Ryan. "I promise I won't get in the way," I added with a wink.
Parisa giggled. “Of course you can come.”
Ryan looked like he wanted to punch something.
Good.
"You’re practically part of the family by now," Darryl agreed with a warm smile. “Plus, if we manage to tire you out, maybe we’ll get some sleep tonight.”
There was a wave of “oooooh”s and “burn!” and gleeful laughter.
“Judging by your snores, you slept just fine,” Parisa poked at him, another wave of jovial laughter swept over the table, and the group reverted to happy, teasing chatter.
Ryan stormed off seething, unable to hide his rage. It confirmed my instincts had been spot on, and I couldn't bring myself to regret my impulsiveness, even if it cost me valuable investigation time.
The brunch proceeded with the usual mix of toasts and wedding small talk. Ryan, who had returned somewhat subdued and somehow with a fresh drink, tracked Zahra as she moved through the garden. Each time she circulated near him, I found a reason to be there—offering to refill her drink, asking a question about the schedule, touching her arm in a casual display of affection.
By the time we all gathered to head to the photoshoot, I'd positioned myself as Zahra's shadow without making it obvious to anyone but Ryan. And judging by the tight set of his shoulders and the forced quality of his laugh, he was a ticking time bomb.
At the Historical Society's rose garden, I found a corner to observe from, giving thumbs up and making appropriately appreciative noises during the portrait sessions. I fetched water bottles and mingled with the groom's party whenever the bridal party was in "girls only" photos, making a point of actively including Ryan in the conversations so he couldn’t walk away. I made myself useful and approachable, played the perfect supportive boyfriend. In reality, I was staying close to ensure Ryan didn't sneak off and try to get Zahra alone.
The most surprising part, though, was Zahra's orbit around me.
It started small. A brush of her fingers on my shoulder as she passed. A light laugh as she leaned into my side while checking photos on the photographer's camera.
I told myself it was for the act. She was using me for the exact purpose she’d hired me. This was about Ryan, not about me. Not about last night.
Then she tucked herself against me during a break in the shooting, her body fitting perfectly against mine. A soft touch. Nothing dramatic. Nothing noticeable to anyone else.
And I couldn't breathe.
Each point of contact between our bodies felt like both victory and defeat—proof our act was convincing, proof I was getting too invested. It was impossible to ignore any longer. The taste of her still lingered on my tongue, the memory of her complete surrender as I moved inside her fresh enough to make my hands tremble with the urge to touch her again.
Watching her work, sunlight in her hair, completely in her element as she directed the wedding party with gentle authority, I found myself taking photos with my phone. Not because our contract required documentation of our fake relationship, but because I wanted to remember her like this. The realization terrified me.
I’d tried to drown it, spent the whole damn morning reciting formulas and research logs, but Zahra had sent me spinning through open space, and giving in to her gravitational pull was the only chance of finding steady orbit.
Then there was Ryan.
He was a fucking shadow. Every time I turned around, he was there. Watching her. Lurking.
And then? The final straw.
Elena arranged the wedding party for group photos, and Ryan kept suggesting old poses from his and Zahra’s dating days.
She stiffened, but she didn’t say anything, and I was back in high school, watching her as she let him walk all over me. Watching her disappear into the background while I bled.
Ryan positioned himself near Zahra, his hand ghosting over the small of her back, fingertips brushing against her skin like he had every fucking right.
“Remember that one pose we used to do?” Then, with a grin directed straight at me, he lifted her hand, settling it against his chest.
He was taunting me.
Fuck this.
