Page 38 of The Fiancée Farce
“That a deal breaker for you?”
“Not quite, but I’d be forced to question your taste. Which so far, save for that disaster with Tucker, has proven impeccable.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth she wished shecould take them back. What was she thinking, being so flippant about something so awful?
“Impeccable, oh?” Tansy huffed softly, breath puffing sweetly through the line. “Someone thinks highly of themself.”
Gemma cupped her hand over her mouth, muffling her quiet, near-giddy laugh. “Did you think I meant me? No, I was talking about that negligee you had on the other night. The bias cut was beautiful on you. Very...flattering.It was vintage, wasn’t it?” She traced her smile with her fingertips. “Itisnice to hear that I’m your type.”
“Shut up,” Tansy muttered, the words lacking heat. “What about my cardigan?”
Gemma frowned. “What about it?”
“You didn’t seem so fond of it at Tucker and Madison’s wedding, remember?”
Oh, right. Thanks to the champagne she’d chugged like water, she had lost any semblance of a filter she possessed and had made her thoughts on Tansy’s outfit quite clear. “Only because it should be a crime covering yourself up like that.”
“Is that a line?” Tansy asked, voice suspicious.
Gemma huffed. “Fine, I think that cardigan was awful. But I also think it should be a crime covering yourself up like that. But whatever. If you like the damn thing, I suppose I can learn to live with it.”
“I suppose you’re going to have to,” Tansy said, sounding amused.
When it came to marriage, Gemma hadn’t exactly had the greatest role models. Her father had fucked over her mother with a team of bloodthirsty lawyers and a less-than-standard prenup that she’d signed under duress—young, pregnant, afraid, but so very hopeful. His second ex-wife had fared better, but not bymuch. And Uncle Sterling was anything but faithful to Bitsie. Gemma knew all the things that made a marriage fail, but not much about what made one last.
But the one thing she did know was that any relationship, even a marriage of convenience, was supposed to be about give and take.
Gemma reached back to fluff her pillows. “Marriage is a compromise, is it not?”
“It should be,” Tansy agreed. “So, we’re on the same page—we both think it would look better—more legitimate—if we had a real wedding?”
Legitimacy was the ultimate point of all of this. “Same page.”
Never in a million years had she thought she’d see the day she got married, let alone had a wedding. She’d pretty much sworn off the idea of getting hitched when she was... what? Thirteen? Looks like fate, the wily bastard, had other plans. “But just so we’re clear—no shoving cake in my face. It’s tacky.”
And she’d read somewhere that it correlated with a higher divorce rate. Not that that mattered, but still. Anecdotal evidence was not to be ignored.
“No cake smash,” Tansy agreed. “Got it.”
“And I’m not wearing white. It washes me out.”
“Fine with me.”
“And I’m not forcing my friends into matching dresses, okay? And Teddy and Max will be up there with me.” She’d never hear the end of their bitching if she left them out of something, even something as asinine as a bridal party.
“Sure, that’s—oh God.I’m going to have to tell Samina.”
“Who?”
“My best friend. She lives in Arizona.”
She wouldn’t mind meeting Tansy’s best friend. “Invite her.”
“I will.”
“Good.” She paused. She’d never put too much thought into her wedding, but now that she was, it turned out she had opinions. Plenty of them. “No bouquet tosses. I’m not going to have the DJ call out all the single women for shits and giggles so they can fight over a bunch of flowers, Hunger Games–style.”
Tansy started to laugh.
