Page 40 of Merry Fake Bride

“I’m fine,” she snaps, stomping one foot on the ground and sending a mini tidal wave over my leather loafers. “I’m going to get a cab.”

Peering past her into the dark streets, the only cars that pass are personal vehicles.

No cab in sight.

At this time of night, most are probably lingering around the active clubs ready to pick up drunken partiers and she will have to search for one.

“Nonsense. I’m right here and I know where you live. Please, let me drive you home. Save your money.”

“Oh, because I’m so poor that I can’t afford a taxi fare?”

Despite her hair plastered to her skull and the raindrops dragging her mascara down her apple cheeks, the fire in her eyes doesn’t waver.

“I don’t need your pity so why don’t you?—”

A deafening clap of lightning followed by an ominous rumble of thunder makes us both jump and Devon cuts herself off.

Her resolve crumbles instantly.

“Fine. But only because it’s raining and I don’t want you to bill me for water damage to your shoes.”

She stomps past me, and I struggle to keep the relief off my face.

Regardless of what she said, there’s no scenario in which I would leave her alone out here, but pushing that boundary dangerously risks pushing her further away from me.

It’s not like I have any sort of chance with her anymore, but that doesn’t stop me from caring.

I follow her into the limo, much to Martin’s relief, and fold the umbrella.

Once it’s back in its casing to catch the water, I close the door and Martin slips back into the car.

“Where to?” he asks over his shoulder as he turns up the heater.

“Miller residence.”

“Miller residence?” Devon asks sourly. “It’s creepy that you know where I live.”

“Given that I know you stay with your parents, I have their address because of our business with the bakery. It’s not intended to be creepy,” I say while briefly shaking the water from my hair. “Do you want a blanket?”

Devon stubbornly holds herself as far away from me as she can reach until she’s almost pressed against the opposite door.

Given my bulk, there’s not as much space as she’d clearly like, so I keep my knees pressed together to give her what extra inches I can spare.

“No,” she mutters, despite the clack of her teeth as she shivers.

She leans over on herself to keep her cast pressed against her body while winding her other arm across her waist.

From the color, it looks damp, but given the severity of the storm, she’s succeeded in keeping it mostly dry.

“Why were you out here all by yourself?”

Devon’s attention fixates on the window and she doesn’t reply.

“Did something happen?” Concern coils like a snake in my gut and an anxious tremor moves through my heart.

I calm it by pressing my palm flat to my knee and digging my fingers into the muscle before my leg can start bouncing. “Devon, are you okay?”

She sighs deeply and glances over at me with narrowed eyes. “I’m fine.”