Page 51 of Vows We Never Made

They’re for grieving and cursing God over what you’ve lost.

It’s like no one knew how to handle Gramps’ death because all the usual ways—knowing about it in advance, preparing, hardening your heart, making arrangements for that black emptiness—they’ve all been stripped away.

What’s left is his joke of a will, filled with insane terms and conditions.

If I had to guess, that might be why Hattie agreed to go along with this sham as well.

She certainly doesn’t likeme. But what if this is her personal, fucked-up way of saying goodbye?

I tune back into the conversation to see Margot has traded her sadness for a smile.

“You know I’ll be good at it,” she says.

“Hmm, I don’t know.” Hattie’s face scrunches. “I don’t want anything too big. This isn’t a real wedding.”

“And I’ll work around that! Just let me start looking into venues, Hatgirl. Ignore the groom. He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.”

“I mean, it’s not meant to be. Not for real,” Hattie reminds her.

“All weddings are romantic! Even the phony ones. Come on, at least let me pick the flowers. And yourdress. I know just the style for you.”

My jaw clenches and I need more distance from them.

So much for Margot leaving the wedding alone, despite telling her point-blank she won’t be organizing shit.

Not formywedding.

Fuck.

“Don’t look at me like that, dude,” Margot says, giving me a smug smile. “You signed up for this. Also, you get to deal with our parentals next week. They’ll besoexcited to meet the bride.”

Bullshit.

My parents are secretly pissed I’ve inherited the company, as far as they know. They would’ve preferred it dismembered and sold off with the money distributed evenly, but they don’t want to pissmeoff by challenging Gramps’ explicit wishes.

Of course, they don’t know about this lunatic marriage clause, and I intend to keep it that way.

Unfortunately, that means we have to spend more time pretending to be a happy couple.

Hattie’s brows draw together. She hooks her bottom lip between her teeth.

Itshouldn’tbe such an effort to look away.

“When?” she asks. “When next week?”

“Wednesday. I figured we’d fly down to New York and make it quick. Get this crap out of the way.” When the concern on her face doesn’t ease, I fold my arms. “Do you have a problem with that?”

Margot fires a glare, but I ignore her. Hattie’s hold on her bottom lip deepens, turning it white.

“Wednesday,” she says.

“I’ll fly us out,” I say impatiently. “You won’t have to pay anything.”

“No, it’s not that.” She finally releases her lip and it’s fucking intoxicating, watching the blood rush back under her skin, redder than before. “It’s just… it’s kinda last minute to get time off. I don’t know if my boss will—well, I don’t want to disrupt the work schedule.”

“Seriously?” I snort loudly, wondering if I’m hearing this right.

We’re trying to organize an intro to convince my parents this is a legitimate marriage so I get my inheritance, and she’s prioritizing her job at a damnbookstore?