Page 67 of When Love Found Us
Is that why Ledger and Galeana stayed? Fuck, I don’t want to know. I could ask, but if I do, I have to share my part. I’m not sure how much I should keep from them.
I’m in the middle of running through every possible scenario in my head when Blythe’s voice pulls me back.
“If you didn’t want to go, you should’ve just said so,” Blythe mutters beside me, arms crossed, staring out the window. “You didn’t have to organize a family dinner to avoid my cooking.”
I huff out a laugh, shaking my head. “It wasn’t that bad . . . I think.” I turn to wink at her. Yesterday’s meal was great, and I would prefer to eat at home with her than have to deal with my brothers but . . . this has to happen. People know I’m supposed to be with them and they’ll know if I skip the family dinner.
“Are you nervous?”
I scoff. “No. I just hate family dinners,” I mutter, instead of saying,I just hate my family and the feeling is mutual.
“Would it help if I embarrassed you in front of them? You know, really sell the loving wife act?”
I smirk, side-eyeing her. “What exactly do you have in mind?”
She shrugs. “Maybe I tell them you’re obsessed with those cheesy holiday romance movies. That you cry during the big gesture.All. The. Time.”
I, deadpan, say, “That’s defamation.”
Her grin widens. “Or I could say you’re weirdly good at . . . what could be weirdly funny?”
“I will leave you on the side of this road.”
She hums, tapping her chin. “Or—oh—maybe I tell them you proposed to me after knowing me for a week and cried when I said yes.”
I give her a look. “You really think they’d believe that?”
She arches a brow. “Are you saying you didn’t cry?”
I groan, scrubbing a hand down my face. “I should let them think you were a mail-order bride.”
She snorts, shaking her head. “I don’t think they have those in New York. I couldn’t sell that idea.”
“What can you sell?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer right away. Just stares at the house, the lights glowing through the windows, the silhouettes of people moving inside.
Then, finally, she exhales. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“We can’t just leave it up to whatever happens when we’re there,” I remind her. Because if I want this town to accept her, if I want her to have a chance at something normal—I have to show them she belongs.
Even if I have no fucking clue what that actually means.
“Why do you think people get married in Vegas?” I ask.
She gapes at me. “Oh my God. You can’t say we got married in Vegas.”
“You’re right. It would’ve been easier to add you to my Costco membership without them finding out.” I sigh. “How did we get married if I met you the same day I arrived?”
“Tell them we fell in love immediately, and I’m very conservative. I believe in marriage before sex,” she states.
“Do you?”
She laughs. “No. I had some experience in high school, college . . . I’m not a virgin.”
“Obviously, you’re pregnant, sweetheart,” I remind her.
She snorts. “You can always make them believe I was, we skipped the condom and boom . . . baby on board.”
