You’re pathetic. What happened to not wanting to get close to people?
I shake my head. I’m not trying to grow closer to Iris, but it’s hard to avoid her when everyone keeps pushing us together.
“Declan, a little more smiling please?”
I glare at the photographer.
He gapes. “Never mind.” His flash goes off, catching me mid-death stare.
Iris laughs. “I need that one sent to me ASAP.”
I shoot her a look, and she only laughs harder. My chest tightens at the sound. Compared to the icy display she put on earlier for our guests, it feels good to make her warm back up to me.
And this is why you need to stay away from her. Because this feeling in your chest?
Merde.
The photographer snaps another photo before I dismiss him. My mood takes a turn for the worse, and I barely pay Iris any attention as we cut the cake. We go through all the motions. She feeds me and I feed her. A few people gasp when she smashes a bit of cake in my face, and I return the favor by shoving a spoonful of cake into her mouth while she is mid-laugh.
Nothing about it is real. I’m detached, but not enough to miss the flicker of hurt in her eyes when I abandon her for the bar. I’m a dick for leaving her to manage the crowd that formed around us. I know it with every fiber in me, just like I know sticking around her is weakening my resolve.
I didn’t marry her for love, money, or affection. I married her because I’m a greedy asshole who will stop at nothing to get what I want, even if it means subjecting her to the same fucked-up happily ever after as me. A few kisses and some touching isn’t going to change our destiny, so why pretend this is anything but an arrangement?
It’s all for the best. At least I tell myself as much as I knock back my first drink of the night.
Alcohol doesn’t solve anyone’s problems.
My stomach rolls. The feeling has nothing to do with the drink I burned through and everything to do with the idea of using alcohol to cope. A bartender rushes over to fill my glass, but I push the empty tumbler out of reach.
You’re not him.
I step away from the bar before I do something I will regret.
13
IRIS
“More shots!” Rowan’s girlfriend, Zahra, clutches a bottle of tequila in her hand. She wobbles on her heels, and Rowan swoops in to stabilize her.
My stomach does a little flip at the loving gesture. Watching them interact is nauseating, with Zahra smiling up at Rowan like he hung the moon for her. I’m oddly fascinated by their interactions given my limited exposure to happy couples over the years. Maybe there is some hope after all if someone as grumpy and isolated as Rowan could look at a woman like that.
I shouldn’t be bitter at my own wedding but seeing as my husband has avoided me as much as humanly possible after we cut the cake, I’m not doing too well. Something shifted in him ever since the church, and I can’t help but wonder if it was our kiss.
“What did we say about tequila?” Rowan plucks the bottle out of Zahra’s hand.
“That we should never trust a man named Jose.” She crosses her arms with a pout and drops into the chair beside me, making the material of her dress poof around her.
Rowan’s chest shakes from silent laughter as he pulls up a chair beside Zahra.
Cal grabs the bottle and pours tequila into four shot glasses. “You can’t leave a wedding sober. It’s sacrilegious.”
“You wouldn’t know the meaning of the word,” Rowan replies.
“My wedding, my rules!” I pass Zahra a shot glass.
“Whatever the bride says goes.” Zahra grins as she knocks back her shot. She leans into Rowan and whispers something in his ear. Whatever she says has him swallowing the first shot before pouring himself a second one.
He tucks her hair behind her ear and whispers something in return that has her cheeks blushing.
Gross. I grab my glass and pull it to my lips. Except the rim never touches my mouth because it’s stolen straight from my hand.
“I think you’ve had enough.” Declan’s rough voice does something to my heart rate.
Cal waves the tequila bottle in Declan’s direction. “Come on. Sit down with us and have a celebratory shot.”
Declan shoots Cal a scathing look. “I think you’ve done enough celebrating.”
“She’s a big girl. If she wants to drink on her wedding night, it’s her choice.”
“She’s right here.” I stand on my two feet. The room spins around me, and I grab the back of my chair to catch myself. “I’m fine. Stop fussing over me.”
“You smell like spring break in Mexico.”
Something about his comment has me muffling my laugh with a shaky palm.
His lips pull down into a frown. I take a few wobbly steps toward him before clutching onto his tux so I don’t fall over. I use one hand to push the corner of his scowl up into a smile. “There. All better.”
“We’re going home.” Declan’s arm wraps around me. The move reminds me of our kiss in the church, which only makes my cheeks hot underneath a pound of makeup.
I pout. “But why?”
“You’re intoxicated.”
“It’s a wedding! Our wedding!” I struggle to focus on Declan’s three heads. “Hey, why aren’t you drunk?”
His three heads merge into one angry version. “Because one of us has some self-control,” he snaps.
“It’s all Cal’s fault!” I blurt out.
“Hey!” Cal throws his arms up.
“He did steal a bottle from the bar. I saw him take it myself,” Rowan backs me up.
Declan points at Rowan. “Don’t get me started on you.”
The way the three of them interact has me raising a brow in Zahra’s direction. “See. I told you they never get along.”
Zahra smiles. “Yet.”
“I like her already,” I say aloud instead of in my head.
“Let’s go,” Declan snaps.
“Don’t forget to text me! I want all the details,” Zahra yells.
I throw her a thumbs-up over my shoulder. Turns out she is the only other person besides Cal and Rowan who knows about the whole sham. Not that I would tell Declan. I’m pretty sure he would murder Rowan for risking our big secret like that.
Declan steers me toward the exit of the ballroom.
“Wait!” the wedding planner yells. “You can’t go yet! We haven’t even tossed the bouquet!”
Declan lets out the longest sigh ever. My chest vibrates from withheld laughter.
He turns me toward him. “What’s so funny about this?”
“You hate every second of this.”
“Are we getting off on each other’s displeasure now?”
“Like you’re one to judge. That’s your favorite kind of foreplay.”
His reddened cheeks make me smile.
One point for Team Iris.
Tati has the DJ request for all the ladies to gather around on the dance floor for the bouquet toss. Declan holds on to me as if he’s scared I might topple over due to my unsteadiness. I imagine he only does so because he wants to make sure people buy our marriage.
So much for forgetting about what he said in the church.