Page 42 of The Wedding Fake
Her eyes were wide and bright and locked onto mine, and I was sure I could kiss her again and she would welcome it, I just wasn’t sure it was a good idea. “Hud,” she said, the word a tiny, gasping plea, and my reservations evaporated as I dropped my lips to hers once more.
I stifled an eye roll as we pulled up to the curb in front of the Dupree family home. Of course Grant had grown up in an oversized brick colonial on the edge of Bridgeport. His father probably owned the biggest company in town or some such bullshit.
“You ready for this?” Claire asked, her nose curled uncharitably.
“No,” I answered honestly, reaching across the center console to take Claire’s hand. She didn’t pull away. On the contrary, she turned her palm up to let our fingers intertwine, something she’d been doing since we’d walked the streets of Bridgeport earlier in the afternoon. I couldn’t begin to guess whether she’d decided to forget her reservations for an hour, a day, or permanently, but I wasn’t missing any chance to be close to her in the meantime.
“I’m not either,” she conceded. “How long do you think we can sit out here before someone notices?”
I nodded toward the window next to her. “Not long. Your parents just got here.” Outside Claire’s car window stood Juliet and Charles. Juliet looked impatient, and I gave Claire’s hand a single squeeze before letting go and opening my door.
20
CLAIRE
Hudson nodded toward the car window next to me and I turned to look, nearly jumping out of my skin when I found Mom’s face practically pressed to the glass, her expression irritable. Behind her, Dad and Emily waited. I pushed open the car door with a sigh, and Mom was already talking before my feet hit the pavement. “This is going to be Nora’s new family, so I want you to be on your best behavior,” Mom said, looking between Emily and me as if the two of us were impulsive eleven-year-old boys rather than successful grown women.
Emily snorted. “When have I ever not been on my best behavior?” she muttered, but Mom didn’t answer, she simply gave us a meaningful look and turned toward the door. I followed, saying nothing, and Hudson caught up in a single long stride, placing his hand on my spine. I didn’t want to like his touch, but more and more, I not only liked it, I craved it. And something about his wide palm sitting splayed across my lower back was grounding me right now, as we headed into the viper’s den. Facing this party with Hud felt like going in with backup. No matter what else happened, I was sure he’d be there for me.
It was clear to me that Mom and Grant Dupree were working together in their attempt to play matchmaker. I’d assumed Grant’s mother, Agatha, was in on it as well, but it took less than two minutes to change my mind.
“Claire! Emily!” Agatha Dupree exclaimed as we walked in the front door. “Is it possible you two are getting more beautiful with age, because that’s really a travesty,” the older woman joked. I smiled and leaned in to give her a hug. Agatha squeezed me tightly for a moment, then her arms dropped away. “And who’s this?” she asked, turning all her attention toward Hudson, who was clearly bracing himself for yet another day of intense scrutiny.
“Mrs. Dupree, this is my boyfriend, Hudson. Hud, this is Agatha Dupree.” I was pretty sure it was the first time I’d called Hudson my boyfriend, and the word set off a kaleidoscope of butterflies in my stomach.
“Nice to meet you,” he said, extending a hand.
“Duprees hug,” Agatha declared, spreading her arms. Hudson looked surprised, but he leaned in to give Grant’s mother a hug. Over his shoulder, Agatha’s eyes went wide and she mouthed, “Oh my gosh!” at me. I understood completely. It was hard not to be overwhelmed by how handsome Hudson was. “Come in, come in,” Agatha said as she released Hudson, gesturing for everyone to walk through the house and into the kitchen. “Richard is outside getting the grill ready, and I’m just finishing preparing things here. Please, help yourself to food and drinks.”
“Can I help you?” I asked quickly, determined to offer before my mother had a chance to scowl at me as if I were an ungrateful guest.
“Sure, honey. You and Emily can finish cutting those melons for me,” Agatha replied, gesturing toward a hefty pile of melons with her chin. I sighed internally. I’d really been hoping Agatha would decline my offer. “Hudson, dear, go ahead out back. The men are all there,” Agatha suggested, nodding toward the sliding door Dad was currently slipping out of.
I made a face at Hud none of the older women could see and he grinned, lifting one shoulder as he walked out the backdoor. Mom busied herself making a salad and she and Agatha fell into easy chatter about their kids while I made my first slice into the watermelon, feeling like an army private peeling his first potato. Next to me, Emily tipped her head, scrutinizing the cantaloupe with a surgeon’s eye.
There were six melons, and I was tempted to text Hudson just to drag him back in here. We could’ve used his knife skills. Hell, we could use whatever help we could get, and neither Tessa or Nora were there yet, a fact which annoyed me immensely. Apparently I could’ve spent more time walking around Bridgeport with Hudson, and instead I was here, cutting enough melon to feed a small army. I hated that I was the only one who followed the rules and I always got punished for it.
“For someone who’s supposedly fake dating, you seem to be having a hard time keeping your tongue off Hudson,” Emily said casually, her low voice pulling me out of my thoughts and back to the present. I surveyed the room quickly to see if Em had been overheard, but Mom and Agatha were engrossed in their conversation. A grin played at the corner of Emily’s lips.
I glared at my older sister. “Does this feel like the time?” I asked through gritted teeth.
Emily glanced around us. “No one’s paying any attention,” she said, and she was right. The Duprees’ kitchen was monstrous, and Emily and I had been set up in a completely different corner from Mom and Agatha. I shrugged concedingly, and Emily’s eyes lit up. “So, as I was saying. You suck face with Hudson a lot.”
My knife slid through the watermelon, making long slices in the pink flesh. Again, Emily wasn’t wrong. “I can’t seem to stop, Em. I keep telling myself I need to and then…” I made a big gesture in front of my mouth with one hand.
Emily’s expression was thoughtful. “Maybe you need to give in—treat it as a fun fling?” she suggested.
I’d considered it, but I knew to my very core I wanted more. I also knew said core was a lovesick moron who wouldn’t know a bad idea if it hit her in the face. “But I like him, Em. I really like him. There’s no way I could have a fun fling without falling for him.”
Emily’s eyes widened in surprise. “You like him that much?”
I nodded resignedly. I wished I didn’t, but I did.
“Shit. I didn’t realize.” Emily pursed her lips again, thinking. “Have you considered giving it a shot?”
“Forty-eight hours ago you were the one telling me he was a stripper,” I hissed.
“You said he wasn’t,” Emily protested.