Blame it on the Champagne (Blame it on the Alcohol 1) - Page 67

“I just wanted to talk to her a moment.”

A slither of dread coiled its way around my chest and squeezed. Did he want to call it off? Did he have someone asking him if he wanted to run? A friend I hadn’t met? An old lover?

Ohmygod. Ohmygod.

The thoughts brought waves of adrenaline. My limbs shook so hard I almost dropped my bouquet. My vision darkened on the edges as scenario after scenario ran through my head.

I’d have to marry Camden.

I’d be stuck forever.

I glanced at Raelynn’s hand, picturing grabbing it and running.

“You better not be ditching her,” Nova said in the coldest voice I’d ever heard from her gentle soul. Even Raelynn’s head snapped her way in shock.

“I’m not. I just wanted to have a few words—privately—before we said our I dos.”

Relief almost took my knees out, and a giggle broke free because all I could think was that if I was going to pass out, at least I was surrounded by a heavy mass of silk and tulle. It’d be the softest landing ever.

Nova looked to me for permission, and I nodded, pulling myself together.

“Fine.”

“But stay around the corner. No peeking, or I’ll poke your eyes out with my stilettos,” Raelynn threatened.

“Jesus,” Nico muttered, pulling another giggle from me.

“It’s her wedding day. Real or not, it’s special.”

“I assure you, it’s very real.”

“Mmhmm.” Raelynn turned to me. “You okay with this?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay around the corner. Thanks, bodyguards,” I joked.

“Anytime. We’ll wait for you at the stairs.”

Both girls kissed my cheeks and headed out. Nova faced Nico and held two fingers to her glaring eyes before pointing them at him. I kind of wished I could see his face, but despite all this feeling like a hoax, I wanted it to be as real as possible. I always liked the silly traditions, so I stayed around the corner.

“What’s going on, Nico?”

I heard the fabric of his suit rub together, and I imagined him leaning his broad shoulders against the wall to get comfortable. Maybe he had his hands stuffed into his pockets, pulling the material tight across his bulge.

“I’m going to kiss you today, Verana.”

Of all the things I considered him saying, that hadn’t even crossed my mind. It took a moment to process, the rough words rounding the corner to sink into my chest like a promise. Crazily, in all this time, we hadn’t kissed. I knew how roughly his hands palmed my breasts, how hard they gripped my hips. I knew what his tongue flicked like between my thighs, how his cock stretched me to the max. I knew all of this, but I didn’t know how his lips moved on mine.

It was the last line we’d cross, and it felt more intimate than sex.

“Are you sure?” he asked so softly I almost missed it. It lacked the usual confidence he oozed without trying.

“About the kiss or the marriage?” I asked, just as softly.

“Both.”

Was I sure I wanted him to kiss me? Was I sure I wanted to follow through with the wedding?

I hesitated, considering running.

But I remembered the ten seconds of dread that swallowed me whole when I thought he was coming to cancel it all. And if I had to be honest, maybe I looked forward to finally kissing him. Maybe I’d wanted to for longer than I’d admit and doing it to lock in our arrangement sounded like the perfect excuse.

Still, I couldn’t give up all control. “I guess,” I answered playfully.

“About the kiss or the marriage?”

“Both.”

He chuckled. I closed my eyes, imagining his chest moving with the deep rumble, his full lips twitching into a begrudging smile.

“Does this mean you’ll let me fuck you properly on our wedding night?”

I swallowed down the yes, sitting on the tip of my tongue. “In your dreams.”

“We’ll see,” he promised.

I rolled my eyes, hearing all the confidence that had been missing before.

“I can’t wait to see you.”

With those parting words that rang with sincerity and something I hadn’t expected to hear from anyone beyond an actual groom who loved his bride, he left.

A moment later, the rustling of dresses announced Raelynn and Nova’s return.

“What did he say?”

“Did he look?”

“Are you okay?”

“You look pale. Do I need to stab him?”

They hit me with a barrage of questions too fast for me to keep up. I held up my hands and laughed. “I’m fine. I think it was just to make sure I actually showed.”

Appeased with my answer, they relaxed. “Okay. Well, let’s get this party started.”

They helped me up the old steps to the narthex, where my father waited, pacing the tiled floor.

I swallowed down the nerves and smiled at Nova when she gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

Part of me hadn’t wanted my father to walk me down the aisle, our relationship torn into fractured pieces I didn’t recognize. But there he stood, mostly there for appearances—and for Mama. She would have risen from the dead to yell at us both if he wasn’t there for me today.

Tags: Fiona Cole Blame it on the Alcohol Romance
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