crazy as I was.
“I had a feeling. Those hands can’t be that good with a football but completely terrible in the bedroom.”
But I was the one who put us here. I was the one who had drawn the line in the sand and told her that she was nothing more than this. This fun girl who I could be friends with and ask to come to my parents but not anything more.
I was the one who had proved exactly what she was worth when it came to me, and I was bound and determined to make sure she knew how wrong I was.
And it wasn’t the sex.
It was the way she laughed without abandon and the way she treated my mom like she had loved her her entire life. It was the way she was meant to come here and be my fake girlfriend, but there wasn’t a thing about her that was fake.
It was the way she lingered.
From the moment I met her, every encounter had lingered like she was a mystery I just couldn’t solve. She was always there. Sometimes in the back of my mind, sometimes front and center where I couldn’t avoid thinking about her, but no matter what, she always lingered.
I spun her around, catching her off guard, and she giggled as the bottom of her dress swirled around her in a circle.
“I think it was more than my hands.” I quickly pressed my lips against hers before I could convince myself otherwise. “I love it when you laugh like that.”
“Like what?”
She always had this dreaming look in her eyes after I kissed her. It didn’t matter if it had been for show or for real. She always looked like I had just given her the best kiss of her life.
“Like you don’t give a fuck who’s watching you.” I looked around the room, and sure enough, there were several sets of eyes on us. I used to think they were all watching just waiting for me to screw up, but now they were all watching her. She didn’t notice. “You never seem to care.”
“Oh. I care.” She moved her hand up and down the lapel of my jacket. “I just refuse to give them the satisfaction of seeing me care.”
“You’re good at it.” I couldn’t stop staring at her mouth. “The only thing I’m one hundred percent certain that you care about is Kennedy.”
She looked away from me but turned back quickly with irritation clouding her face. “You don’t think I care about you?”
“Do you?” I whispered, but my question was loud and clear.
“Fuck you, Liam.” She tried to pull away from me, but I refused to let her go. I was so damn tired of letting her go.
She pushed against my chest but I tightened my hold. She looked up at me, really good and angry now, and even though I wished we could have had this conversation without it, I welcomed her anger. It was the only time I could really read her.
“You know I care about you.”
“I do.” I moved my hand from her hip to her elbow, and she tensed as I ran my fingers along the back of her arm. “But how much do you care about me?”
She pressed her lips together and stared at me. We were both so damn stubborn. Neither one of us were willing to put ourselves at risk. Neither one of us willing to jump alone.
“Why does it matter, Liam?” She looked around the room at all the people who surrounded us. Everyone was still on a high from the wedding, and the bride and groom were dancing just a few steps away. “All of this will be over soon.” She looked back to me. “It doesn’t matter what I care about.”
She was so damn wrong.
It was the only thing that mattered.
“When we get home, everything will go back to the way it was, and you won’t have to worry about whether I care or not. Everyone here already believes it.”
“What if I don’t want it to go back to the way it was?” I couldn’t breathe as she stared up at me.
“I don’t know.” She shook her head gently. “I don’t know.” She looked away from me and I had no clue what she was going to say next. “What about us working together?”
“What about it?” We were barely dancing now, but I didn’t care.
“What if we decide that things don’t have to go back to normal then we work together and things