come in and almost trip over it, as they’re not paying the slightest bit of attention to their surroundings. They’re about eighteen, and they likely have just been dropped off by their mums for their first ever lads’ shagfest. Probably headed to Ibiza, if the looks of them is anything to go by. They’re jeering and skipping around like excitable puppies with no clue as to what they should be doing. I smile to myself and wish I were going with them. A nice, carefree holiday where I wouldn’t have to watch the girl I was semi in love with marry my kin. What I wouldn’t give for that instead of what I’m about to do this weekend.
I chew on my thumbnail again as nerves ball up inside me. I had to switch around my plans for today after Lucie agreed to come with me. I was supposed to be flying up with my parents and sister today but cancelled my flight and rebooked one with Lucie instead from an airport closer to where she lives for convenience—hers, not mine. Now, I’m wondering if I made a mistake. We agreed to meet here five minutes ago, but there’s no sign of her. Usually, I’m the one late, but as my train got me here mid-morning today, I’ve already had a couple of hours to stand around and worry myself sick that she won’t turn up.
We’ve not had much contact, just a quick message or two on the Monday that we met, merely communication about flight times and numbers, and then we had a couple of short check-in messages too—the last of which was yesterday evening when I asked her if she was done packing. It’s been almost twenty-four hours since then.
What if she’s chickened out?
I glance back at the wall of monitors. Our flight check-in is open now. What do I do if she doesn’t show? How long should I even wait here before I have to board without her? I can’t miss the wedding, though the thought is tempting.
I glance down at my watch again, seeing the second hand tick around agonisingly slow. I should have arranged to pick her up at her place, so we could have taxied here together—less chance of her pulling out at the last minute then.
Before Monday, I resigned myself to the fact that I would be going alone, but now that she agreed, I can’t think of much worse than going to this wedding on my own. I need her. She’s not only a shield, but also a distraction. I’m not sure how I’m going to feel, watching the ceremony. I’m the best man. I have to stand beside Jared and pretend like it’s fine that the only girl I’ve ever really wanted is marrying my twin.
Hell, not only do I need a hot Italian distraction, but I also deserve one.
I shove my hand into my pocket and pull out my phone, checking for a letdown message from her, but there’s nothing. I type out a quick text, asking where she is and if she’s still coming, and then I delete and write again, trying to word it so I don’t come across as a needy prick. Just as I have typed out something I’m happy with and am about to press Send, I glance up, and in she walks.
I feel the smile stretch across my face as relief washes over me.
Her eyes meet mine but quickly flick away. She ducks her head, wheeling her small, bright yellow cabin regulation size suitcase alongside her as her teeth sink into her bottom lip. My eyes have a mind of their own as they sweep over her. She’s wearing high-waisted, skinny, cropped jeans that cling to her curves, another pair of amazing heels, and a short-sleeved red shirt with white polka dots. It’s one of those fashion ones that has been cut too short and shows off a couple of inches of luscious skin across her belly. Her hair is pulled up into a stylishly messy topknot. She looks edible.
Damn. Why did I let her friend-zone me so quickly?
I gulp and swallow my inappropriate thoughts, trying not to wonder what her hair would feel like if I tangled my fingers into it while I kissed the life out of those glossy pink lips.
Lucie trots over to me, her red stiletto heels clacking on the floor almost to the same rhythm of my rapid heartbeat. She’s still not looking at me. A blush covers her cheeks