Page 117 of The Fiancée Farce
Gemma scoffed out a laugh, eyes flaring.
That was all the warning Tansy got before Gemma withdrew her hands from her pockets and dug her fingers into Tansy’s sides, tickling her.
Tansy shrieked, squirming against Gemma’s unbreakable hold. “Uncle!”
“No, no.” Gemma groaned, those relentless, dexterous fingers of hers freezing, her face scrunching. “Please, for the love of all that’s holy, don’t say that word.”
“What word? Uncle—oh.” Tansy failed miserably at muffling a laugh. “Whoops.”
Gemma pouted. “I’m traumatized. Brooks! My mom! There was—there wascavorting.”
Tansy snickered. “Cavorting? Really?”
“Yes,” Gemma stressed, hands clutching Tansy’s waist over her coat. “Cavorting.”
“Oh, the horror,” she said, all mock severity. “And we know what cavorting leads to.”
Gemma’s brows rose.
“Canoodling,” she whispered, bursting into laughter at the horrified look on Gemma’s face.
“Do you know how much additional therapy I’m going to need to work through this? Years.”
It wassweet. “Come on. They’re getting a second chance.”
Gemma grumbled under her breath, vague mumblings Tansy couldn’t make out. “I guess. Doesn’t mean I want toseeit. Or hear about it. Or—or know about it.”
Tansy didn’t share Gemma’s misgivings. She wasmorethanhappy to hear about it, save for perhaps the goriest, most blush-inducing details. But the swoony ones? Sign her up.
“It’s not like I’m not happy for them if they’re happy,” Gemma mumbled. “Because I am. I’m not heartless. It’s just bizarre. You think you know the whole story, and then you find out your uncle’s been carrying a torch for your mother for the last thirty years. I guess it’s going to take some time to get used to.” The corners of her mouth rose in a wry smile. “Assuming they, you know, last longer than our wedding weekend.”
“I have a good feeling about it.”
“Oh yeah?” The left corner of her mouth lifted a smidge higher, sly, eyes narrowing playfully. She tugged Tansy closer by the hips. “What else do you have a good feeling about?”
Tansy’s breath caught in the back of her throat, butterfly wings bursting open inside her belly. “You’ll laugh.”
“Never.”
Tansy raised her brows.
“Okay, fine,” Gemma conceded. “That’s probably not a promise I can keep.” She reached a hand up, tracing the curve of Tansy’s cheek with her thumb, expression going soft and solemn. “But I can make plenty of other promises. Promises I swear to keep.”
She couldn’t tell whether the fluttery feeling was coming from her stomach or her heart. “Like what?”
Gemma smirked. “I guess you’ll just have to wait to hear them all tomorrow during our vows.”
Vows.
While the thought of standing up in front of two hundred people, most of them strangers, made her want to dry heave, at least she wouldn’t be up there alone.
Tansywasn’talone. Not anymore.
“Us,” she blurted, taking a leap of faith and hoping againsthope that Gemma wouldn’t let her hit the ground. “I have a good feeling about us.”
Gemma looked at Tansy from beneath her lashes. “I guess that answers my question.”
She didn’t follow.
