Page 68

You're blushing, Mrs Walton

T he aisle is lined with petals. Cream and blush and even a soft, dusky pink I used to say I hated, but somehow don’t anymore. They flutter gently in the spring breeze, catching on the edges of white folding chairs pulled into vague rows.

The backyard is quiet. Not in a weird way, more expectant. Paper streamers twist gently from the branches of the large oak tree, reminding me of similar decorations we saw at Enigma all those months ago.

I’m standing out of view with Lulu, waiting for the music to start. I exhale a slow and shaky breath, then smooth a hand over my dress. It’s not fancy, just a crisp white. Low neckline, spaghetti straps. Nothing sparkly or frilly or princessy.

Somewhere, music finally starts to play. Low and elegant, the kind of instrumental swell that makes your heart start to pound before your brain has caught up.

“You ready?” Lulu asks, stepping in beside me to fix the hem of my dress. She’s in pale sage-green, hair pinned back in that perfectly imperfect way only she can pull off.

“No,” I mutter. “I feel like I’m walking into a cult.”

She beams. “A cult with snacks and a dress code, so suck it up, buttercup.”

I shoot her a look, then glance down the aisle and catch the edge of his shoes at the end of the aisle. I am not about to make eye contact with him right now.

“You look kinda pale,” she adds.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

I shrug, my heart doing something it absolutely should not be doing, given the situation.

“I just—whatever. It’s stupid.”

“It’s adorable,” she corrects. “Also, I think he’s nervous too.”

“Who?” I ask, not trusting my voice to do anything but betray me.

Rolling her eyes she nudges me forward. “Who do you think?”

I don’t look right away, I can’t. Because I know Chase is standing at the end of the aisle. I feel him standing there watching, waiting. And if I let myself look, I’m going to forget how to walk in a straight line.

Lulu squeezes my arm. “You’re gonna make him cry.”

“Good.”

I mean it as a joke, but the truth is my chest aches a little. This whole thing is ridiculous. The sun filtering through the trees, the petals. The murmuring hush that’s fallen over everyone as the music shifts and someone signals the start of the procession.

Taking a step forward onto the aisle, I finally raise my gaze to meet his and find those perfectly blue eyes waiting for me at the other end.

Chase is in a dark blue shirt, top button undone, sleeves rolled up and showcasing his ridiculous forearms. But when his eyes lock on mine and his grin deepens, everything in me quiets. No nerves or panic. No hesitation.

God, I hate him.

Wait, no I don’t.

“Let’s go, bride.” Lulu grins and gestures forward.

I don’t even realize I’ve moved until I’m halfway down the aisle. Chase hasn’t taken his eyes off me once, doesn’t even fucking blink. He just watches me with that infuriatingly soft smile that makes my pulse stutter and my brain glitch.

I pass Logan, who is seated with his arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

Tamara’s holding a napkin to her face like she might cry, while Eli’s looking at her as if she’s finally lost the plot.

Charlie’s bouncing Theo on her lap, mouthing go slow, he’s gonna lose it, while Jake ruffles Noah’s hair and winks at me as I walk by.

Even Reid is here. Holding a mimosa, wearing sunglasses and the kind of deeply unimpressed expression that only got worse after he was assigned petal throwing duties and complied .

As I reach the end of the aisle, Chase reaches out and takes my hands, his thumb brushing along the inside of my wrist to steady me.

It’s not until I reach him, until I’m standing right in front of him in the middle of this backyard, surrounded by paper decorations and Solo cups and this unhinged group of humans, that I consider a runaway bride moment.

But just as I open my mouth, a tiny, sparkly blur darts in front of us.

“DEARLY BELOVED,” Meadow shouts, popping up between us on a bright pink step stool, holding a plastic wand.

Everyone jumps and Chase’s grin grows wider. I slowly close my eyes, regretting every choice that led me to be the bride for this weekend’s edition of wedding brunch role play.

“We are here today for my wedding of Auntie Zoe and Uncle Chasey that I planned with my brain.”

Somewhere behind me Logan cheers audibly, clearly delighted he’s finally managed to dodge a betrothal to Eli’s sister after a four-week streak of brunch matrimony.

“You may now do the vows,” Meadow declares, “but only if you mean them with your heart .”

Jake claps loudly and far too enthusiastically. “Go on, Chasey ! Give us something good!”

Charlie elbows him in the ribs and Lulu, positioned just behind me as maid of honor and spiritual guide, leans forward over my shoulder. “Brace yourself.”

Chase squeezes my hands and then, without a single goddamn flicker of hesitation, he launches in.

“I promise to always let you steal my fries,” he says, eyes locked on mine. “Even when you say you’re not hungry and order a salad, which we both know is a lie.”

There’s a snort from the second row. Reid, probably.

“I promise to let you win arguments in public—so I can win them in private.”

“ Wow. ”

Our friends laugh, but he’s still looking at me, completely unfazed.

“I promise to love you even when you leave your fake lashes on the bathroom counter like spider corpses, and I promise to provide enthusiastic feedback on all nail art designs.

To bring you coffee and croissants when you're cranky, and rub your back when you're stubborn, and to never, ever let you walk through anything alone.”

The teasing falls out of his voice so fast it makes me stumble a little. He’s still watching me, still holding my hands as his voice goes soft.

“But mostly I promise that when this is real—because it will be, sweetheart—I won’t forget how lucky I am to have you.”

There’s a lump in my throat I definitely didn’t approve.

“Also,” he adds, “you look really hot in pretend wedding dresses.”

I know this is a game, I know it is. But Chase Walton doesn’t play fair.

“Okay, your turn!” Meadow chirps.

A wave of heads turn in my direction, gleeful and waiting. Behind me, Lulu snorts.

I blink, scrambling for something that doesn’t sound like an emotional breakdown in vow form. “Uhh, right. Okay.”

Chase’s eyes don’t waiver from mine, but he bites down hard on his bottom lip, clearly trying not to grin too wide to avoid bodily harm.

“I promise to love you even when you leave your socks in the kitchen. Which, to be clear, is not where socks go.”

“Counterpoint,” Chase says, “they were clean.”

“They were not clean.”

I shift my weight, eyes narrowing but still holding his hands. “I promise to put up with your weird celly song obsession, your horrendous mirror selfies, and your inability to own a matching set of coffee mugs.”

A cheer goes up from somewhere behind us. Reid mutters something that sounds like finally, someone said it .

“But mostly,” I add, quieter now, almost tender. “I promise not to murder you in your sleep.”

Meadow gasps. “ Zoe! ”

“Joking,” I amend quickly. “Kind of.”

Chase looks delighted, eyes crinkling in the corners as he waits me out.

“And I guess,” I add, because he’s just standing there all smug and sincere and stupidly beautiful under the brunch sunlight, “I’ll love you forever, too.”

A chorus of awwws erupts from the group, the sound not dissimilar to a gaggle of emotionally compromised barn animals.

Meadow bangs her wand on her little butterfly clipboard. “Now say I do !”

My head whips down to this tiny five year old tyrant intent on forcing me through the most public display of love I’ve ever endured.

“I do,” Chase says so quickly I nearly miss it. I roll my eyes and he squeezes my hand. “Say I do back, Carlson.”

I try to act annoyed, try so hard to stay unaffected. But my face is hot and my heart is louder than it should be. And the truth is, I’d do a hell of a lot more than play pretend with this man—even if I’m still pretending I wouldn’t.

“Fine. Yes, I do. Okay? Done.”

“Do you have a kiss?” Meadow asks.

Chase raises an eyebrow at her. “Always.”

He steps forward before I can protest.

“Wait, what are you—”

His arm wraps tight around my waist.

“Chase—don’t you—”

But it’s too late. He fucking dips me in a full movie-style swoop. One hand braced behind my neck, the other hitching my thigh up like he’s the goddamn star of a Hallmark movie. I yelp, half-laughing, half-flailing.

“Put me—”

“No take backs,” he murmurs.

And then he kisses me. Soft at first, respectable. Just enough to brush his lips against mine, quick and sweet and innocent before pulling back. But then he leans in again with his signature cocky tilt that always, always ruins me.

Right here in front of everyone, he French kisses me. Full tongue, in the middle of Charlie and Jake’s backyard, under two paper streamers and a clothesline of baby laundry.

The backyard erupts, and I try to protest, I really do. But I’m also half-upside-down, slightly stunned, and I’ve officially hit the stage of fake-wedding-induced delirium where my brain has left the building.

Of course he’s doing this. Of course he’s absolutely unhinged enough to take Meadow’s fake ceremony as an opportunity to tongue me in front of all our friends and half a plate of mini quiches.

So instead I laugh right into his mouth, which only encourages him. He deepens the kiss on a low, slow groan, and I can feel the smirk when we hear someone protesting from their seat.

“Alright, enough!” Reid snaps, voice cutting through the chaos. “There are children present.”

“I am a children!” Meadow yells back proudly. “And I said they could!”

“Ugh, my corneas would formally like to lodge a complaint,” Logan adds.

“Why, honey?” Lulu croons mockingly. “Sad we haven’t a chance to kiss after our vows yet? ”